The Poetry Marathon

Hour 5 – An Virtual Casualty

Prompt for Hour Five

My internet is a strange beast
A superior intelligence designed
to provoke and harass

With the ability to sense urgency and despair
it waits to pounce..
Signal Disconnected

My internet is a weapon of mass desolation
People in black suits are beginning to show interest
Scientists are working on an antidote, as we speak

People on the streets try to share my sadness
They humbly put away their smartphones
I smile politely, understandingly

My internet sometimes listens to romantic Nazi music
or watches octogenarian porn at half-speed
I’m think I’ll just change my name and run away

Hour Two – Father

As a child, she was always

laughing,

Waiting for her Father

to come

But one day the Father

had gone,

And her life has just

begun.

There’s nothing else

to say.

Breathe

I do not always rhyme while writing
but when I do there is a wonder, what drives this silly mind?

It is like Dr. Seuss on crack
the flow~it is unstoppable
when the soul is open~flowing

Baby steps they say, and one has to begin somewhere
Now~ a new day and the words come out how they come
allow All to flow~no holding back~have fun

This is the same in life right now
leaping, that one of faith
at the same time staying grounded

All of this is interesting, to say the least

Believe
believing we are enough
right where we sit

belief in the unseen
belief in you
belief in me

Belief in all that is Created
including you-
believe, it is free

The belief that you too are enough
just breathe,
Breathe

Breathe through life’s moments
beginning with the start
you see You are a miracle and nothing short

Each day is a gift that is given
a “Present” as some say
what we do with each moment
makes a difference down the way

Each choice
each direction brings the next
Enjoy this Now forever, that is how we make time stop.

Tempest

I am alone in a sea of people.  Laughter and voices lap at my body like waves of foam that surround me in all directions, bursting onto my consciousness that is already dripping and soaked in isolation. Flooded with emotions, the sea overwhelms me, making it impossible for me to speak, to hear, to see.  Only can I feel with too much force – messages garbled, perceptions blurred.  The tide rises, and I am adrift. No longer in control, I gasp for breath and blindly search for the rope that leads to both my anchor and my lifeline.

The sea calms and ebbs.                                                                                                          I see you through tears and smile.                                                                                          We’ve passed through the storm.

The End of Worry

Hours spent sleepless at 3 am
Usually 3 am
Sometimes 3:33 – a scary time
One in which the ghosts come out!

Demons infiltrate my every thought
Whipping me to shreds with their anguish
Over my imperfections

What needs to be done
Did I do it right?
Did I say it wrong?

What is he thinking of me?
Is he thinking of me?
Am I too fat?

I forgot to buy breath mints.
Speaking of which, I need to make an appointment
with a dentist.
Get my teeth cleaned.

When will I have time?
Can’t do it this week.
I need those 40 hours to pay the rent.

Next week, maybe. Or the next.
I could skip grocery shopping
Eat beans and rice this week.

That always makes me fart.
I hate farting.
I wonder if when I farted
At work the other day.

Did he smell it?
God, I hope not.
Is that why he hasn’t called?
Probably.

I probably just stink
He doesn’t like me.
Or he just wanted sex.
That was it.

God, I’m so stupid!
Why do I get so turned on by these…
These… These… MEN!

Sometimes I wish I could be a lesbian.
What would that be like? hmmm….
No, I don’t think so. Nope. Not for me.

I like big strong arms and a big…
Damn him! Why hasn’t he called?

I wonder if he’s with someone else tonight.
I’ll bet he’s with Susan.
She’s always smiling at him.

What does she have that I don’t have?
Money? Connections?
Better breath?

Maybe I should call him.
What time is it?
I have to be up in two hours.

I could call in sick.
Nope. Can’t.
Gotta pay the rent next week.

What is it about counting sheep
That makes people go to sleep?
I could count sheep. 1, 2, 3, 4.

That commercial with the sheep
Is so cute! What product is that?
I’ve forgotten. What was it?

I need to buy more melatonin.
Maybe I should try valerian.
Kim said valerian works best for her.

I’m up to five melatonin a night.
What’s that, like 15 mg?
I wonder if you can overdose on melatonin.

Sleep, to sleep, perchance to dream.
Sometimes I wish I were a guy
Just so I could play Hamlet in Hamlet.

I wonder if I’d be gay.
I wonder if I’m really a gay man in a woman’s body.
That makes sense, really.

I like men.
I like doing manly stuff.
I have a man’s job.

But they don’t pay me like a man,
That’s for sure.
I need a raise!

I should ask for a raise
This week.
Maybe if I brought in my dildo,
They’d see that I have everything
Any man has.

Make sure it’s clean. Ha!
I wonder if he’d get jealous of my dildo.
Maybe I should bring it… nah.

Speaking of which,
I really need to do the dishes
Tonight!

Why don’t I have time for anything?
What time is it?
Damn!

I have to be up in an hour.
I should just go on and get up.
Up, Up, Up.

Nope.
Lay back down with me.

Wait, where’s that piece of paper
With the Sanskrit thing on it
That Dani gave me at yoga.

Did I put it in my wallet?
I wonder if that works.
What was it? Om something.

Maybe if I just say Om in my mind
Maybe I can finally go to sleep.
Worth a try, I guess…

Om, om, om, om, what was it that
Om, om, om, I wonder what it means
Om, om, om, om, I , Om, can’t quit thinking
Om, Om, Om, Om, ommmmmmmmmmm

The Lady

Dusk comes brisk and streaks the sky

dusting her cheeks all rosy..

and it paints her eyes all blue.

It gilds the horizon as though

it were an icon,

peering past the surface..

the onlooker observes deeper realities.

Fraught with beauty,

this moment stands still

as a memoir

as a testament

to a symphony

we cannot see.

 

 

A Georgian Bay Haibun by Ingrid Exner- Poem 6

The water gently and rhythmically lapped against the sides of the canoe as the bow cut through the blue water. The canoe rocked gently almost lulling us to sleep. Everywhere you looked, it was a panorama of natural beauty. Blue Spruce and white pine rose high on rocky cliffs of Canadian Shield and juniper bushes decorated the shoreline rock. I leaned back into my seat and tried to extend my legs in front of me. This canoe/kayak combination of a wooden canoe slid through the water like a dream but the choppy water was making it more difficult to paddle and paddle straight. Since the boat was closer to the water level, it also meant that any slight wave flipped over the bow and splashed the person sitting in the front and, that person just happened to be me. When we did happen to come across a wave or when a boat came close to us, Cam and I tried our best to slow down, stop paddling and ride the wave. This wave surfing was fun and reminded me of riding the roller coasters at local fairs when I was very, very young. We rode a lot of waves on Georgian Bay during our recent visit. And, I have to say that my favourite “wave surfing” came on our return trip from Huckleberry Island. The winds had risen while we were on the island and we left the island heading out into white caps. The beginning of the trip was difficult as more than a few waves splashed into the wooden canoe soaking me and many of the items I had in the front of the canoe. Luckily, I had remembered to bring my plastic poncho which I put over the items in the front of the canoe. So, while I still had to bail out the water that came in from the wave, I had much less water to bail out on the return trip. And, once we started to head back to the island, the waves were behind us, pushing us forward and we safely surfed toward shore in our wooden canoe.

 

Waves lapping gently

Laughing waters carried us

Safely to the shore.

 

Ingrid Exner, 2016.

Poem (#6)

Jar of daisies sit

Their beauty so simple

Often ignored

#6 Sand Dunes for your Spirit

On a road trip with no rules, Danielle said,“Look! The sign says, Great Sand Dunes National Park. Should we go?” My daughter and I had no idea what to expect when we decided to visit. Row after row after row of sand dunes pile up against the mountains. The sand is too hot to touch with bare feet for much of the day; but a shallow, wide creek runs the entire length of the dunes. The puppies could not get enough of running in the creek. Fascinated by bubbles in the water; they chased and tried to bite them. At night, the porch of our cabin showed a sky more full of stars than I had ever seen.

Sand dunes climb to sky

Cool creek refreshes spirit

Soft blanket of stars

Looking Out

Inside today: inside my house, inside my room, inside my bed, inside my head. This is the price for two consecutive days of activity. Behind the netting, an open window. Open curtains too, now that the glaring sun is in retreat. Air-holes made for this bug-in-a-jar. I can’t get out, but at least I won’t suffocate.

A second window is also open, not to give air, but something even more precious: human contact. This window takes my words and sends them out into the aether, returning with words from faceless, nameless fellow writers. We help each other with information and encouragement, and suddenly the jar doesn’t seem to matter so much.

Illness takes a toll
The bells mark off my sentence.
Warm days keep it short.