The Poetry Marathon

River Walk Life

Every morning I walk along the river. To get there, first I must walk through the city, past houses of people still sleeping, sometimes encountering a raccoon or skunk, finishing its night of roaming and looking for home. I must pass through the bar district, sidewalks littered with cigarette butts, broken glass, crushed cigarette packs and empty chew tins. The stench of stale beer, smoked butts, and acrid vomit wafts briefly through my senses, my pace quickening to get by, to reach the water. There the life is so different, open, unencumbered by hard-cornered brick. Instead, the softness of marsh and brush, leaves and grass. My walk becomes mediation on vibrant sunrise, lush green, the steady thrum of birdsong.

beside the river
I enter a life, every day
I leave behind

[Prompt: Haibun]

Sunny

Summer is June July August. Barbecues and water ice. The flowers of purple, red, yellow. A slight breeze. The measured steps. The humidity that seeps through the pores. The smells of hickory or charcoal. The steak. The sweat beads. The thirst. Lying in a hammock with a cold glass of lemonade. The sand under bare feet. Glistening skin. Laughter. Rain that is damp. The dark sky . The whirl of the air conditioning. The Fourth of July fireworks. Thunderstorms bursting . The buzzing flies. Swarming bees. Eating salads because I want to look nice in a bikini. The wave crashes at my feet. This season is not my friend on the high nineties day. I walk to the store

With a sense of dread

Stay inside it’s safer here

Think away the heat

Turmoil

The face I hide

flying high,

hurting deep

a loud sigh.

 

Sounds of the sea

the turmoil in me,

fighting to see

I must take my leave.

 

The trees in the heat

the planes that take off

I love to take watch

they leave peacefully.

 

Gold leaves and skies

a wolf mourns from far,

some distance I feel

we both feel at war.

 

 

Oklahoma Haibun

Was it three or four years ago that the drought first dried up the creek? It was the summer that the okra blossoms burned up and dropped off, when my harvest was nothing but peppers and eggplant. I don’t like eggplant. Last summer, it was cool here, but blistering in Seattle. This year, I let the garden go. I planted and watered, but I didn’t weed. Volunteers took up whole patches. The bees, the birds, and the butterflies loved the lemon balm, the four-feet-tall marigolds, chickweed and Malabar spinach. I got a few potatoes, some early tomatoes, but then the petunias and the tomatoes burned up. I made note of what survived–vincas, cannas, those peppers again. There was still color, still food for the frogs and rabbits that moved into the garden. In the face of uncertainty, I’ll call that success.

My senator knows
Earth is not getting warmer.
His proof? A snowball.

Define trier

Before his eyes, a girl is yapping and whining at the barrier he had installed beforehand. It was a barrier he put up to protect his love. Though the love had run away with another wolf. At the moment, his heart had sunken deep into despair. That was when the girl, which is yapping before his eyes, came running, fast approaching him. However, her lust stopped right there, a few steps before him. “Oh love. Don’t deny what you had in store for me,” and she beg him. Her wild behavior, her mischief and her bluntness slowly defeating the army of the barrier. And he thought to himself, “For how many more months should I suffer?“. He admit defeats.

get lost, O’ lost love

get lost for anew love

to be reached and reaching

Hour 6–Haibun

Praying mantis stood planted close to the floodlight, swaying rhythmically back and forth in the night. Why? Was it trying to attract a mate? Attempting to rouse prey? Sunbathing in the bright light? I watched and studied and decided: It was entranced by the play of its own shadow.

eclipse without fear

what may be found in darkness?

the essence of light

 

 

 

 

 

Poem 6

Chapter 6: Test

 

Like a dream,

I walk through frost-bitten

Headstones.

 

Winter plagues

With cold and scarcity.

Rumors of civil war rustle.

 

At a crypt, now,

Midnight on a full moon

Lavender glow of magic

From the palm of my left hand

Right palm branded, burns

It’s half-working curse.

 

It cannot stop me.

 

Inside, the smell of flesh

Rotting

Dust settled into thick sheets.

A fresh body with a ticking watch

Gold coins in a pocket –

Leave a few for the ferryman

And go.

 

Loot in hand,

The wife appears, moans

Like a banshee when she sees me,

Thinks I’m a ghost or a robber.

I’m both.

“You devil!” she screams.

 

Run, run, run

To keep the wolves away.

Goals

I have a ton of goals running through my head,

I feel overwhelmed and would rather watch TV instead.

I always want more and am never content,

I push myself more and more, but it doesn’t seem to make a dent.

New goals come and then they go,

So many new things I want to know.

One day I may be fine and satisfied,

but just for now I’ll continue to strive.

Apocalypse words

I can’t believe I’m writing this

I watch as the sun sets before my eyes

There’s nothing left outside, the ground is burnt

Instead the inside beckons

The air conditions outside are stifling

Instead I’ll eat some ice cream

Worlds apart just due to a door

And yet I knew this, I’m still surprised

It’s as if I’m on an alien planet.

So rather than running or playing around,

I’ll just light a candle and make little sound.

Good morning rambler

Good night gambler

Time to rhyme

As time passes by

Moonlight lingering mild eyes

Rivers, frozen life.

(Hour 06) 03.30-04.30am. PROMPT: “haibun”

Part of what I’m hoping to do over the course of the marathon is (should circumstances allow) is work on poems in proposed sequences/other projects. The previous poem “Duchess of Oldenburg” (though owing to the prompt, it was very different to how I thought it might be) was for such a project. And so is this. It’s for “Dropped the Sky” a Novel in Poems Young Adult book I’m working on which chronicles a pretty total invasion & how the few ragtag survivors cope.

rhapsody

when they came : no one knew what to do : met up with two older guys : figured themselves soldiers : couple of shotguns : & high powered rifles : peashooters basically : compared to what we were against : only we didn’t know : at the time : i refused a weapon : even though i could handle a gun : acted as a scout : while they blundered : all swagger : hollywood heroes : idiots : came across an enemy soldier : in its suit : got some shots off : but were : vaporised : literally into air : 2 quick blasts : afterwards : it walked the path : beneath where i was hiding : was so mad : i swung down : ripped the hoses : out of its helmet : out of its tank : the suit’s death was slower : much slower : than those two : stupid farmboys

the dust was orange
same shade as the setting sun
— but was once two men