The Poetry Marathon

I am happy that i found him.A life where he doesn’t exist? Can’t even imagine.It’s just that i wish,only if i could see him one last time,say goodbye….it would have been a lot better death than this.

A broken heart
Hurts much less than
A broken spirit.

Man in work shirt

weary through the shoulders

dozes on the train

as it winds and careens

through the subway.

His blue-black hands

rest folded in his lap…

what does he see behind

his closed eyes?

His wife, a lover?

His children, grandchildren?

His home, with its comforts awaiting him?

What are his thoughts as he rests

after a long day?

Does he worry about his job,

his boss, his business,

bills he needs to pay?

Does he remember the young man

he once was, with dreams

he had for himself,

now long dissolved?

The train arrives at a random stop

and he exits into the crowd

of anonymous people

to his life that awaits him…

whatever that may be.

Eve Remillard

8/13/2016

Today I met the grim reaper. He showed me what death was really like. He told me not to be afraid that there wasn’t a bright scary light. He started to tell me about my friends – the loved ones I would meet when I went. I wanted to go. I wanted to see them. This earth wasn’t worth it anyway. But, he grabbed my hand and stared into my eyes. He said, “Dear girl, it is not your time. Do not be ready to go for I am not ready to take you. I’ll come back for you.”

Moonlit empty coffins

Finally walk away with the stars

Peace settles at last

How many times can you steal the same land?

Move our people from their homes and use our names for your brands?

What is our  return on “your” investment? Money in your pockets and sickness in our hearts?

What is our  return on “your” investment? Money in your pockets and poison in our lakes?

What is our  return on “your” investment? Money in your pockets and cancer in our blood?

What is our return on “your” investment? Money in your pockets and massive toxic waste?

The stakes

are just

too high.

How many times can you steal the same land?

Move our people from their homes and use our names for your brands?

Your bullshit isn’t selling, and we aren’t buying.

Note: I read on the link provided that micro-haibuns limit the prose section to 20-180 words. I wrote what I thought was enough for the poem and it’s exactly 20, so I guess it’s enough! And forgive the formatting, I think it looks better this way.

Splash. The water’s involuntary separation,
when penetrated by the fingers, the hands, the whole body.
Giving in, encircling the intruder.

a stroke on water
the timer ticking away
three metals glitter

The prayers are sound,

everyone whispers the word of god.

Whispers fade

short stares take the place,

Gasping for air,

no one dares to take her breath

Silence is sound and all around eyes witnessed

Eyes glistened,

Still.

Daughters and daughters and daughters

with more to come

Surround the mother #1.

The prayer we said and peaceful she left

A breath we could take for our hearts sake.

Sobbing- now is mourning

Being without her is now torturing

I just lost my great-grandmother

the look on her face makes me shudder

mothers love is like no other

Here alone feeling withdrawn

Now all of my mothers’ are gone.

by Khalifah Luciano

A toddler sways or bounces to the beat

Not knowing steps or direction

An older person who seems to have withdrawn from the world

Will react to it and once again, briefly return

Some listen to get hyped up and move without thought

While the ballerina dances gracefully, the very movement of sound

A tool used to relax, drive, escape, and capture us

It is the essence of the movement as we exist

Here on the stage of our lives

May we always allow the music to speak to us

And remember to dance

Even darkness cries for the light sometimes

The light will touch it gently,

Caressing it’s grays into orange and it’s black into pink

The light watches the transfusion

The dark and light become one,

Shadows slink away under trees and behind fences

The light wins for a day

All is jolly and bright

Until shadows waken

The light begs for release

Pleasantness has lost it’s joy

It needs to relax, be less on stage

Darkness comes out of hiding

It caresses the light

Changing it’s yellow to red

And it’s white to purple

Until the dark wins

The light seeping into a small orb and distant flickers

The light and dark are companions

Friends, Enemies

But always dependent

On the others return