The Poetry Marathon

HOUR EIGHT – View Over the Edge of a Flat Earth

Prompt from Hour Six for Hour Eight

I see hellfire rising to embrace the follies of mankind,

a burning platter of human flesh falling from the earth into the abyss.

Evil does exist but only in the hearts and minds of the arrogant, the selfish.

No godlike being has condemned us, we have done that ourselves.

What the world needs now is love.

Redemption? Is that possible?

Turning our thoughts outward

from our self-centred preoccupations?

How many need to protest, to write, to sing, to cry, to scream,

Enough is enough?

Questions without answers.

Answers without actions.

I see an earth reborn, free of humanity,

like the phoenix arising from the ashes,

a fertile planet, abundant with life,

no longer struggling to survive.

Horseshoe Lake (Prompt 7)

Red-and-white bobber, awaiting a fish
undulating with the most minute of waves
unsyncopated rhythm, delicate gliding
over water – visual mantra of my youth

sitting on the end of grandparents’ dock
red-and-white bobber, awaiting a fish
patience a virtue strange to age nine
unless passing time on a Minnesota lake

there is an adage spoken by grandpas,
grandmas who took no boat back seats
red-and-white bobber, awaiting a fish
‘they call it fishing, not catching’

Those days were simpler, nostalgia isn’t
wistful, therapeutic – everything in between
these were useful skills, meditative still
just a red-and-white bobber, awaiting a fish

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2023
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

A getaway

Our backyard, a world of its own
Secluded and quiet
A forest of flowers
Bursting with color
Varieties of birds
Seen no where else
Ruled by fairies and trolls
In hidden hollows
Three turns around the bush
With the white Pom Pom flowers
Takes you to the troll bridge
Not to be traveled in the dark

hour 7 – conversion

my mother worships a god of parking spots.
all the problems and all the wars and all those hungry babies–
but i do the easy things first, too,
cross off wake up, make coffee, on a list
that might go on to cure cancer or
walk the moon–
but probably not.

life is discovery, i guess,
every pathetic love letter, every dew-fresh morning
and why can’t they live together
that old witch and her goldfish
why not every odd pairing,
every gift given freely,
every city swinging wildly
on the grand dumb whim of tectonic plates.

i don’t want some white-lined,
sanitized, god of convenience–
don’t ask me to pray.
give me instead those who believe in:

a caught breath, the pause before,
every wish i have for you,
every wringing hand.
the last croak of the percolator,
the welcoming dawn.

sure as that first awareness
of the damn cat outside
and the sun on the window
today’s another knock-down, drag-out, fifty-fifty
and tomorrow is the place
where i gently plant my hope.

Message in a Bottle

The sun alights the horizon

as waves crash onto shore,

throwing their wet blanket onto the sand,

and then pulling it away again.

Each time the water recedes,

a small bottle is revealed,

tossed and jostled in the chaos

until it finally is left behind

as the tide fades back to sea.

The tiny vessel now lies still,

its glass glistening as the day brightens.

A small piece of paper within

hides its secret,

folded so the written words cannot be seen.

The dreams of its owner

are penned in ink

and pinned on the hope

that a curious passerby

will take the time to read what’s inside.

 

Palisade

On the rolling cart,

wooden fruit box.

Narrow slats pasted up with color labels.

 

Thin nails, loose on one corner.

Juice is leaking,

dribbling down, dripping on the floor.

The Better Half (4 hour)

Two birds united, one parrot

the other cannot

two union in a knot

Each half makes a better half

It was April fools eve. No sirens. Pure silence. There has always been something miraculously healing when it storms in TN. Around here we like to dance in the rain and watch the clouds create a masterpiece in the sky. When the weather man tells us to watch out for a tornado we laugh and carry on. This time it wasn’t funny. This time it was devastating. Turning lives upside down. Dear tornado, we will turn it right side up. One beautiful broken piece at a time.

Prompt 3 – Promising

unchained from expectations
free to be me
I welcome in The one
who will raise my heart to
a new level of love

from the crushed and pulverized dreams
a matrix for promise I will build
and decorate it with gems of memories made
gifts realized, ideas birthed
and purpose revived

Hour 7

Ukraine is a land of freedom

A land of glorious mountains,

Exotic waters, wonders of the world,

and rich plains with a limitless urge to

Grow, share, and provide.

Our culture never seeks to amaze that

Ukraine is a land of freedom

Urging each human to create art and never stop singing

With our hearts on our sleeves

And our history written in the stars.

 

Each building, each monument,

Every book, every song, every word spoken about how

Ukraine is a land of freedom

Will be remembered forever and always

When it continuously proves its worth.

 

We are not like them,

We are not brothers.

We will never be like them, because

Ukraine is a land of freedom

And will never be anything else.

 

My country is facing death

With no end in sight;

But despite attempts to bring us down,

We forever will stand resilient to prove that

Ukraine is a land of freedom