The Poetry Marathon

William Butler Yeats

“An aged man is but a paltry thing,

a tattered coat upon a stick unless

soul clap it’s hands and sing and louder sing…”

 

Yeats caught my attention when I was young

and he sailing to Byzantium.

His skill with words, the power of his feelings,

his imagery, all hugely appealing.

 

The pride of Ireland, a national treasure,

a gifted one by which greats can measure

how they compare to my fellow Irish man,

this monument we fly a flag on.

 

So thanks WB for these feelings inside,

for instilling this feeling of national pride,

for making me feel a fraction more worthy

‘cos you are from the same place as me.

 

 

Poem #10 – Poetry

Poetry

Poetry brings inspiration to its reader
and it gives breath to the writer
and in my case, when I create –
I am showered in glistening stars

@ Renee Avard-Furlow
June 13 2015

Rising Light

There is a scratching at the door.

Nature is clamoring.

There is a foot upon the floor.

Morning is stumbling.

Toward the rising light.

 

Stay in bed.

 

 

 

by Karen Sullivan

Form: Aubade

The Mechanical Messiah

Oh the nerd boy’s home is on fire
Let’s see the object he will acquire
His MacBook? That dire?
Does your work there deserve salvation from heavenly choir?
Your stories and poems and photos worth swimming in briar?
Would you even save you own mother?… Liar.

#21bis – Loud and broad

Your flesh

Your blood

You’re thirsty

And cold

 

I am here

To hear

Your stuffs

Loud and broad

 

Each time you’re hurt

It will heal itself

Just

To get hurt again

A bit later

 

All that doesn’t matter

As long as you stay

In your centre

Out of there nothing

Nothing to grab

Nothing to hold

Nothing to hope

As long as you

Stay in your centre

Really

There will no heartbreaker

 

All this flesh

And all this blood

A real flood

Makes you blush

When you look

At what you’re capable of

Makes you blush

Like a teenager

Who receives

A compliment

From a young gorgeous lady

For the very first time

But she’s touched

And soon more and more

Hurts and is being healed

When the mountains

Fall into the skies

The Universe blushes

And the sun disappears

Just for a minute

The exact minute

When you both

Fall in love

With Life

And each other

Beyond the flood

Of blood and love

Going through your veins

In vain

 

No, nothing is vain

Even all the pain

Embrace it

Hug it

 

Your flesh

Your blood

You’re thirsty

And cold

 

I am here

To hear

Your stuffs

Loud and broad

 

 

 

 

 

Magnificence Incarnate 15/24

(I wrote this to someone special)

In your manner of walking and
In your way of talking
With stars in your eyes –
You’re Magnificence Incarnate…

Whether dancing to a Samba
Or a soft romantic Rumba
When you Glide across the floor –
You’re Magnificence Incarnate…

Whether forceful like a Canine
Or stealthy like a Feline
When you move it spells
Magnificence Incarnate…

You are noble and so gentle
Your middle name could be Yentl
You’re pure Aristocrat –
Magnificence Incarnate…

I’ll always stand by my notion
That you’re poetry in motion
You’re my baby –
You’re Magnificence Incarnate…

© 2015 Antoinette LeRoux
(The name Yentl is a Yiddish name meaning “Aristocrat” or “Noble Person”)

Tempted

All the while

when staying awake

no voices

no noises

just people

doing the same

as you are

some thing tempts you

to complete it

with them

after coming so far

you can’t return

you get up and start

you are tempted

to finish

even last..

 

Poem21/24 “Sir Walter Scott”

Lochinvar

 

Who came out from the west

Through all the wide broad sword

His steed was the best

Lochinvar is a great knight

Who came from other country

He travelled alone

In his knight he rode alone

He has nothing but a sword

That anyone consider his steed was the best

He rode to travel to see Ellen’s wed

Who must be married to a wrong man

When he arrived, Ellen was shocked

Does Lochinvar came for a celebration or for trouble?

Lochinvar took a goblet of wine

Ellen tossed their glass

As Lochinvar kiss her

And it is about the mother of Ellen saw

And tried to stop them

Lochinvar took ellen for a dance

And between the crowds they gone

And no one knows where they go

But a knight to remember so

That this young man owe Ellen’s love

This is the poem I can’t forget

Written by Sir Walter scott

 

Braai 14/24

This is the Afrikaans poem that I have promised. A “braai” is similar to what most of you guys would call a “barbeque”. I chose a Haiku because of lack time… think it went quite well though. 🙂

Braai is so lekker
Dit gaan saam met die Somer
Heerlik sosiaal…

© 2015 Antoinette LeRoux

Freezing

Autumn Wind

The sun was bright,yet the cool air frostbite.

Every time I move, my limbs sting from clinging.

Knuckles and groin adjourn to rest in a flat form.

Cool breeze makes my spine giggles in spasm and then I faint in pain.

I grubbed my old sweater and my long john preventing my thin skin from jiggling.

I’ll rather stay inside my abode and let the crunchy autumn leaves fill up my backyard with crusty trash because,

It will become a nice and warm colored blanket of autumn leaves for earthworms and mice, to survive the frigid night.