The Poetry Marathon

Void

I dream of you, your caress like the velvet touch of creation’s light.
I do not know your face, nor your name…
yet I feel you across the great expanse. 

Your silence is the deafening void before the dawn,
the sweet nectar of night soothes nothing as I wait.
You are the sun I orbit, the moon I long for, yet I do not know why.

Uncertainty, longing, impossible want
tugging at the ethereal thread that binds me to you.
Invisible. Undefinable. Impossible.
Yet I wait for dawn to break, for my sun to rise, to see my moon,
to hear this fathomless void filled with your voice.

 

5th out of 12

Sister #5

Sister

 

beneath Nana’s afghans

telling scary stories

we gave our childhood a home

blue and purple stretched over pillows

we wandered through imagined places

enclosing sister secrets and pleasures

 

it lasted as long as it could

 

replaced by others with their false caring

I left her for them hoping for more

she went to find out for herself

what was offered to keep

rarely passing in different stories

we touched each other little

 

it lasted as long as it could

 

captured in my own heavy battles

my sister always too true

drowned outside the blue and purple afghans

seeking what was forgotten

much of it was very beautiful

she wrote when saying good-bye

 

it lasted as long as it could

Deserving Prosperity

Money is not the root . . .
of anything.
Except, it is the KEY…
to how we live and trade.
Money is just made…
In various ways.
Nothing fancy in the beginning…
Ink and paper;
through a machine it goes.
It becomes our CASH.
Then, it is distributed …
to the good and evil.
And sometimes NOT!

Money can be the root…
of all that is good!
It can build schools…
Churches…
Homes…
It can be used to feed the hungry…
if food needs to be bought.
Of course, donating can be direct;
Not of money and money alone.

Still, money comes into play…
Let’s do with it what we will.
To see as bad…
To see it as glad…
Often makes it so;
Based on what you believe.
Let’s be glad and happy . . .
Then, we can achieve.

The Art of Play

#5 I Remember

I Remember

The line for the single pay-phone in high school
After school
If there was a game
Or a meeting

Adjusting the rabbit-ears on the TV
to get one of four channels
Hearing the Star-Spangled Banner
when TV ended for the night.

Using the card catalog
to research for a paper
Searching the stacks
finding unexpected treasures

Wondering if my kids were alright
when they went out
with friends
especially as teens

GRANDMA’S GRAPE ARBOR

Standing tall in it’s stately manner,
curved at the top and rich purple grapes
growing up the trellis and overhead,
prolific with fruit and beautiful to see;
in just weeks all that plump fruit
will be cleaned and boiled down,
sugar added, and poured into
small glass jelly jars –
winter provisions
for a hungry family.

Michellia D. Wilson 8/13/2016

SIX

Poem SIX has been removed and now appears on chocolate is a verb, 27 August 2016.

Daycare Tater-tots

If you’re hungry, clap your hands.
If you’re starving, stomp your feet.
If your tummy’s growling and you’re mad at the world,
Climb on my back, we’ll get something to eat.

(to my daycare kids, see you guys on monday..you tater tots.)

5

There are spiders everywhere

This showed how Goddesses punish

They weave and jump across

those who are immortal

the tomato plants and cucumber

How many ways can a God

Leave sticky strings across

use a woman as malleable pulp

the entry to the washing machine

for a swan or a bull or a man

The young jump from the tree

How many ways can a woman

one thread still attached

scream no, beg no, her mothers and daughters asking

floating like a Christmas light alone

Arachne fought for our protection

and land in my hair sometimes

through her own skill of creation against the goddess

if I’m sitting outside at night

And this is how we thank her?

The Fifth Hour: Clickbait

Welcome to the wonderful world wide web:

Where dreams strike poses on Kickstarter
And nightmares stalk message boards,
Taking unnoticed bytes of your time.

Where the static of 24-hour gossip that passes for news
Fills the empty spaces you forgot about
(Plus ones you didn’t know you had.)

Where addicted fingers twitch over keyboards,
Sharing and snaring, friending and filleting
To feed trends, trilobites, and trolls.

Where electric tendrils and fiberoptic leeches
Twist ’round your synapses
And feast.