The Poetry Marathon

Hour 7 Angst… Teen Angst is much more than a Clique…

Angst

German or Dutch it doesn’t trouble me that much.

This is word-etymology that we trust.

Teenage angst is still most popular today, and that’s not ok!

The youth are a precious group; they are all our saved up dreams rolled into one.

My school or your school it is the millage that rules. Equality seems so far away, like a distant land, and this I can’t understand.

We don’t need pen pals to teach that “tolerance” is too weak a deed.

“Diversity” too, is losing its luster and its promise.

We desire something far greater than the “Dawning of Aquarius” to wake us from this sleeping beauty that we think we need.

Plant the seed, quench the thirst, however cliché the idea may seem, cultivate the mind with a love of knowledge based on curiosity, exploration, and not  just the mere hope of college.

Where is our dedication to the youth?  They are our future, just as much as we are their past. We both make up the whole and we cannot put them last.

Angst is an opportunity to uncover our fears and face reality. We must invigorate the youth. They deserve truth, not banality.

Wounded

My soul wounded…
heart is scarred…
Love has been taken for granted…
My feeling gone…
ground broken…
My kingdom infiltrated…
Leaving my king throne-less…
All pawns removed
I’m out in the open…
Uncovered, undone, unwanted…
No knights saving me…
No round table for the sake of me…
Enemies all around me…
Takers and breakers rob me…
Sidebar me…stay at bay like true cowards do…
Who’s to say what you are…
Insecurity on the rise…but I will never compromise…
The walls of my temple have been desecrated leaving me in ruins of dilapidated fortresses
Darkness is upon me and all matter sits still
Guilt subsides and waits for my wrath
No judgement from tongues
Only swift benevolence to pierce egos
My universe
This lifetime
Your words
Our bonds
Tight grips
More pain
See I don’t tell stories or sing sweet haikus
I say spells with life’s words that I spell
Simply because words matter
Put some respect on that sentence when you talk to me.

Walking Over Glass

 

Peering at the crystal underside,

I walked, reached the edge and

discovered I could go no further.

Slowly turning around, I

returned to the beginning.

When the journey had begun, a voice said,

I am magic.

At the edge of the path

the voice carried me home.

Then the magic and the voice disappeared,

the walkway became sand.

I dreamed no more,

I travelled no more.

 

 

Do it

For yourself

For the nation

Get up and fight!

In a Hurry

  It was the top-most window on the left building

close to the inside corner, but it’s shut now.

The day was just as grey as pictured,

In fact, it was sprinkling lightly.

You could hear people arguing over taxis,

and running to those who stopped.

He was in a hurry to get somewhere, but

there was nothing he could do.

He hit the glass frontal twice and

did not die on impact.

I watched him pass my window

wondering what could possibly

have been so wrong with his life

that two broken legs could charm away.

 

HOUR 9

WOODEN WALKWAY

In a Mountain holler

I decided to walk

I didn’t want distractions

I didn’t want to talk.

 

I came upon a wooden walkway

strange among the trees.

I decided to diverge,

which is not like me at all

 

I’m a stubborn sort of man

who can’t follow the flow.

 

Hidden birds

stressed with song

warned  others I was

here.

 

The wooden walkway

I had chosen

opened up,

to a spectacular view.

 

One of which, I would have liked

to share my love with you.

 

The birds are quiet now

I no longer pose a threat

maybe I’ll stay here

I’m a PTSD Vet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hour 09 – 3 Images (river)

In Time

---

Our fate has brought us here in time to meet.
Two travelers alone on the same trail,
the raging river churning past our feet.

The misty air counters the summer heat.
Although our faces both are slightly pale,
our fate has brought us here in time to meet.

Her eyes reflecting mine are kind and sweet;
She turns away, for such is not her tale,
the raging river churning past our feet.

Some other time and place, another street…
But no! Such thoughts will pave the way to fail,
and fate had brought us here in time to meet!

Together now, with no chance to retreat.
A team it seems, destined to ever sail
the raging river churning past our feet.

Her tear-streaked smile makes my soul feel complete
As hand-in-hand we climb over the rail.
Our fate had brought us here in time to meet
the raging river churning past our feet.

---

Hour Nine: Recognizing the Mountebank

“Guard well within yourself that treasure, kindness. Know how to give without hesitation, how to lose without regret, how to acquire without meanness.” -George Sand

It’s easy to be generous
when you have enough.
It’s easy to love
when you were raised with unconditional love.

The real kindness comes from the widow
who gives her last mite.
But what of the mountebank, that con man
selling snake oil so many are buying?

How can he be so greedy
when he always had everything—
private schools, private jets,
gold plated urinals?

What makes the person who was given the world
so unkind? What makes him so afraid?
What makes him need to steal
the widow’s mite?

Maybe he was given gold instead of kindness.
Maybe loss was a punishable offense.
We can’t judge. Something made him. But for the sake of the Constitution,
we don’t have to vote for him.

Haiku Attempt

Blue shine on black wasp

Sunshine in long orange throat —

trumpet vine blossom

Poem 9

Juicy peaches, sweet

fresh, sitting in flowered bowl

ripening, waiting

 

The image and smell

of peaches

take me back to my seventh year

to a kitchen that was shady and cool

in the heat of a summer afternoon,

to an old home

lived in and cared for by women

who still fed the ancient stove wood

to turn out home-cooked meals.

I taste the sweet juice of a peach

as it runs down my chin

almost a half-century later

and I hear my great aunt’s laugh,

long since silenced,

as she hands me a napkin

to catch the runoff.

And I am back in her kitchen,

shady and cool

in the heat of a summer afternoon.

 

Eve Remillard

8/13/2016