The Poetry Marathon

The Path to Nowhere

Banked with hedges high,

Azaleas pink and white.

Lined with bark fine and red

The path began its journey.

Uneven cairns of small stones

Like tiny cottages along

Unseen borders of a road.

Scuffing shoes as we

Peered along curiously.

Halfway down the curving ess.

A marble bench for a rest.

Picnic lunch with cool drinks

Sitting poised to catch sight.

Verdant beauty enclosing

A circle of blooming trees.

Dogwoods, camellias, holly too

Red bud and gardenias.

Dappled sunshine crowned them.

Enchanted as a fairy garden.

Buzzing bees in sweet aromas.

Strolling on to large moss covered

Boulders blocking further progress.

Gazing in surprise and wonder.

Behind them a majestic thirty foot

Magnolia, its shiny leaves sparkling.

Underneath broad spreading

Branches, a soft damp leafy carpet.

The fairy village must be hidden.

For the path leads to a

Secret somewhere.

Note: I grew up in Montana on the Continental Divide with 9 months of snow and slush.  I moved to Charlotte,NC and lived nearby in Mt. Holly for 5 years where it was green all year around.  Real culture shock!

low battery

running

out

of

steam

and

creativy.

I’m

like

the

sun,

desending

onto

my

bed,

ready

to

dream

within

the

stars.

Alone after work

I’m busy he said–it’s been a long day

glancing back at his phone to an article he’d started before shift

he wasn’t even reading but it felt better to look at the blue screen

I don’t give a fuck I’m busy too she said

glancing back at her phone to the article she started befor shift

she was reading it

Together they sat on the hydrant. Each Alone in silence

Prayers for the Jogger # 8

Prayers for the Jogger

 

Rest in peace and watch over me,

Angel with a low sexy voice.

I can hear it now, you saying my name.

 

Thomas O’Brien was found on a gravel path,

Saxon Woods, June 16th, just twelve noon.

A jogger came upon him dead, immediately.

 

I call your wife on your birthday.

She says she looks forward to it.

We laugh easily as if you are in the next room.

 

There was a closed casket, sitting atop

The eight-by-ten color glossy photo,

The boys on their Triumphs, summer of ’69.

 

I hope you are with Charlie and maybe

Our child who needed to be born another time.

Love to your Father, tell him the Mets look good.

 

Thomas leaves behind his wife, mother,

Brother, sister-in-law, nieces, nephews, and

Friends that will talk of him until the day they die.

“Before Darkness”

As the night falls,

I will gaze in your eyes

And see the stars’ light reflected.

Up close,

I will hear your heart beating

And feel your presence

Illuminating the essence

Of your bottled hopes and dreams,

Like a moonlight projection

Floating in a sea,

Waiting for me,

To discover.

And when I take your lips,

In a kiss,

I will feel the cosmos gravitational force

Creating a universe

Of thought and emotion,

An explosion,

Of endless ideals and possibilities.

Before darkness comes,

There will be a new world made

For you and me

And we will call it love.

 

 

HOUR EIGHT: PANTOUM LULLABY

Lullay, lullay lovely,
Let the soft light turn deep red, lullay
and behind lids closed for sleep,
loose the tendrils of the day

Let the soft light turn deep red
And go deeper still
Loose the tendrils of the day
feel it fall away

Go deeper still
Down to where the anchor weighed
And feel yourself fall away
No longer tethered, you need not stay

Poem 8- Clumsy Moves

Thank you to Jacob Jans for that word generator. Here’s my take on the Pantoum, not very original, I’m afraid.

I just finished a quick workout
Thus excuse my weird analogy
But if the last seven poems were part of a marathon
This eighth poem is resistance training
Thus excuse my weird analogy
I’m a bit too tired to think of anything better
This eighth poem is resistance training
The workout that I hate the most
I’m a bit too tired to think of anything better
But it is important for me to flag
The workout that I hate the most
Is also my greatest source of satisfaction
Yes, it is important for me to flag
Although this form confuses me, it is my,
Is also my greatest source of satisfaction
An enigma of words, sets and repetitions
Although this form confuses me, it is my,
My sloppy plank and clumsy crunch
An enigma of words, sets and repetitions
That I have unsuccessfully tried to navigate
My sloppy plank and clumsy crunch
May only be a little less worse than this poem
That I have unsuccessfully tried to navigate
But no, I will not give up on either

The Dragonflies

The dragonflies still buzz today
Flying so carefree and peacefully
Their wings dance on the breeze
Without a care in the world

Flying so carefree and peacefully
Reminding me of days in my youth
Without a care in the world
It was a much simpler time

Reminding me of days in my youth
I recall chasing dragonflies and laughing
It was a much simpler time
But everything is alright

I recall chasing dragonflies and laughing
Their wings dance on the breeze
But everything is alright
The dragonflies still buzz today

Music of Death

The music of death was upon my soul in the mist.

Of the music of death.

Came the angel of light that let my soul free of the evil.

That capture it.

 

The angel of light came upon my soul gave me the warmth.

Touch my soul.

The darkness of evil left my body that was capture into the hell.

Of fire.

That my body was in angel of light came to free my soul.

 

With warmth of the light of the angel that lite the way to.

Freedom.

For life the pain that capture my body was taking away.

By the warmth of light of the angel.

Prompt for Hour Nine

Write a poem about or involving one of the following images.