The Poetry Marathon

Hour 4

Uncle Stasiek

Stanley lived with Mama.
The farm was once the home of chickens and cows,
of his thick-handled Polish immigrant Tata.
He was the eldest, behind the two Mama lost as babes.
The six siblings loved and fought,
Polish tempers run amok in wild Mississippi woods.
But the milk had long since soured,
the claw-foot tub frozen in time under the muscadine vine.

Yet here was Stasiek.

The Pacific Theater had toughened his smile.
He grew okra and patty-pan squash.
He cared for his Mama.

Such Weight…

Step one

Falling with such tremendous weight
leaving countless shattered plates.
Sara underneath mouth agate.
Trying desperately to push and move it away
the fallen china cabinet that somehow moved out of place.
Body sore, cut and bruised
Arm twisted too painful to move
Finally managing to free herself
In order to dial for help.
911 on its way “hang on tight we will be there right away”

Step Two

It seemed to happen in such slow motion
falling with such tremendous weight.
Leaving countless shattered plates.
No time to get out of the way
Sara underneath mouth agate
Feeling helpless under such weight
trying desperately to push it away.
The fallen china cabinet that somehow fell out of place
crushing her arm and shoulder.
Body sore, cut and bruised
shards of glass are now all over
Arm twisted too painful to move
Taking in a single breath
Finally managing to free it from her chest
Crawling on all fours to grab the phone
In order to dial for help
because she was all alone.
“911, help is on its way”
“Hang on tight we will be there right away”
“Please hurry I’m feeling spaced”

Step Three

It seemed to happen in such slow motion
No time to get out of the way.
Trying desperately to push away
the fallen china cabinet that somehow fell out of place.
Crushing her arm and shoulder.
Shards of glass are now all over.
Taking in a single breath
She finally managed to free herself
Crawling on all fours to grab the phone
because she was home alone.

Lady Lannae =)

A summer love

It was summer when our hearts met,

We curved a heart of a promised love, as we sat beneath the shade of a century old maple tree.

Our dreams were planned for the next level of our life together but,

The autumn wind blew the love away and forever gone among the clouds of tears.

We kissed goodbye,under the warm sunshine with disturbing chilly wind.

The summer is gone and I welcome the Fall season with a heavy heart,

A s he hailed the train and begun to moved…

My broken heart was in despair.

The cold front artic wind touched my spine, cold and shivering over the lost love.

I glanced over the horizon and saw the canopy of trees that graced the road, turned leaves into orange and red.

That gave me hope..

When life begins to fade, a new life begins to flourish and thrive.

A birth to a new beginning in Spring, when the dying love I had, started blooming..

the second time around,

This time with a happy ending.

A failed love I had last summer, was lost in the cold wind of Autumn.

And buried under the frigid snow of cold depression.

Until the desperate love of my life, decided to show up..

At the wrong time, blowing snowflakes in Spring.

 

9am

words flow from me like

breath or tears, necessary

to my life, like you.

Hour Four: (Shelter) Guys and Dogs

(Shelter) Guys and Dogs

 

He wakes before the sun, dressing in the dark with quiet hands

Shoes clutched to chest, he nimbly pads down between the rowed, smudge-faced boys;

the babies, toddlers, skinned-kneed kids and finally, breathlessly, past the oldest boys

he turns to grab the book on the small table, then quickly to the door

Lifting up the rust encrusted door latch, squeezing between crack

Outside, thick fog hugs the boy’s skin, threatening mildew on the book’s frayed pages.

Tucking the book into his jacket he makes his way,

kicking through piles of leaves and stepping over crushed cans

When he reaches the building, the boy walks along the side walls until he reaches the back and climbs the fence

He quickly moves to the cages and before the scruffy creatures have time to think something wrong

The boy sits in the dirty courtyard, takes the battered book from his jacket, and reads

them tales of lands without bars or cages

a haiku for the habitually tardy

late into this world

explanation not excuse

my soul is on time

#4

My shadow

always with me

following close

listening

to murmurs

of secrets

sharing

nothing

in silence.

Hour 4–Disheveled

Disheveled

he animates

in the corner of

Panda Express

speaking to a person not there

backpack grunge surrounds him

others keep their distance

insistently moving his arms

he abandons his window corner counter

conversing quietly

with his invisible comrade

he wanders outside into the heat

he’s left a fortune on the counter

where anyone could find it

in a cookie carefully unopened

The Silence

Hush, the baby is sleeping.

I want her to dream her dream…

the vision stretches far

like a sea of mercy..

mysterious and deep.

Hush, for she will awake

if we don’t tread in silence…

like fairies on tiptoe

through the lilies, unsullied.

Her closed eyes

now open upon the sight

of a great City.

The flowers sing, the birds talk,

and there is pain no more.

Hush, for the baby is sleeping.

She is dreaming a dream.

I will eat no more today.

But, she is dreaming.

Before Darkness… I paused.

Before Darkness

… I once panicked

I hesitate.

No Stop! It’s time to regulate.

The darkness, the dusk unveils a scared time, a time to be ushered in with an open mind.

Darkness signals rest, a slowing down of sorts. Not just a time to be put to the test.

In my younger years, not too long ago yes,I know, it was a time of unrest.

The call of night loomed like a graying storm cloud that I could not see through.

“So much to do,

So little time,” was my favorite quote.

It was not an option to float,

Away. Instead I had to handle my dealings.

Darkness at its core, before I worked the usual 10 hour shift with commute as I still do,it was instead a time in which I had mixed feelings.

Long ago, or so it seems.

Before darkness was a time that I relished. I savored. I looked for; I enjoyed being out to witness the most sacred part of the day. An ombre sky, a treat for all to see.

This was where I wanted to be.

…The last drop of color spooned from the sky and distilled in waves of sweet potato pie, candy cotton pink, and shades of lavender hue

That faded gently into pools of blue.

Steely grey clouds became more of a gateway to peace imbued with flecks of silver shard, remnants of stars, peeking through, hanging proudly beside a mysterious moon.

The milky clouds some pink and gauzy,

Some hazy,

Dairy white curtains emerge from the heavens ever growing darker by and by.

Yes, this was my sky.

Alas,I hearken back

To a time that has long past when I drove underneath the “Phoenix Center” underpass, in the heart of Pontiac.

With this, my favorite quote I fondly missed and the truth is,

I can no longer resist,

It has resurfaced clearer that before, and it is here to stay, ” I like the Nightlife.” This phrase still lingers in my mind from years long ago. I remember the thirty seconds or less as my family and I were quickly whisked underneath the structure. I remember beaming from ear to ear with pride at my revelation…

Once again I can relate,

Before darkness and I can now officially date.