The Poetry Marathon

DISARM TO ARM

HOUR EIGHTEEN

POEM # 18

24 HOUR

POEM

MARATHON

DISARM TO ARM

Why am I dressed in black?

With a large cross on my back/

Walking this hot burning road,

Eyes sparkle shine and explode.

From here to there to nowhere,

Bald, blind, desperate to care.

Is my heart mine, or is it yours?

Are sins on my lap after tours?

God are you in the unmarked sky?

Darkened by blackbirds flying by.

Why no light, no white line to see?

Marching towards eternity by me.

Disarm take the dark shadow away,

Pleading arm the light, show the way.

Written by Carl Mann

The kurlman

6-14-2015

Poem 19

“When they write my obituary.” *

What will they say?

Will they remember that I hate to be recognized?

Will they leave out the unimportant details

such as where I worked or went to school?

Instead, will it highlight that my proudest accomplishments

were my three children?

Will they remember to mention

what made me laugh?

what made me cry?

Will they mention that I enjoyed

reading and writing and poetry?

Will my obituary remember that I loved

to love and be loved?

“When they write my obituary.” *

 

Eve Remillard

6/14/2015

*Quote from The History of Love, by Nicole Krauss

Sunstroke

Summer time,tormented heat wave exploding.

Sunshine in 90’s and 100 degrees touching my skin, like broiling.

The sun rays fierce through the second layers of my skin, baking.

High blood pumping, my heart aching,heart valves collapsing,

Heart stroke!

Marathon Morning

The sun has risen again, unremarked behind the clouds.  Typical for this country, and as long as it remains dry, fine with me.  Soon I’ll face a plate of pancakes, perhaps rice with two fried eggs and a sausage.

I’ll review what I wrote in the night and decide which heads will roll.  Without a doubt, not mine, although it feels like coconut slush.  There’s something to look forward to, besides food – sleep, and, after that, perhaps a short trip to town.

For now, a photograph of the lavender rhododendron in the backyard.  It’s growing in a corner reached only by the afternoon sun.  There might not be much sun today, but that’s all right.  Afterwards, I’ll eat my rice and eggs and bask in the night’s work.

It feels as though I’ve painted the town in my head a bright red.

 

©  Ella Wagemakers, 09.22 Dutch time (=  3.22 EST in the US)

#19

I have some wishes I would like you to grant me:

Not an eternal life,
but a long and not too burdened one.
Full of learning and experience.

Not eternal youth
or beauty, but health and strength
to achieve my goals.

More time.
Just time. To live, to learn.
Grant me time.
The rest is up to me.

---

Following the Poetry Prompt,
first line is taken from
the last sentence in
Singularity Sky
by Charles Stross

Cat haiku

I put my seat belt on,

Expect the unexpected.

Cats chase sticks as well.

maybe

who knows, together we may see our dream come true.
maybe…
if we let go
stop being afraid of truth
stop harboring anger in those little tiny pockets of our jeans-
stop eating in silence and feeding all our fears;
maybe we could be great together –
really knock this thing out of the park-
if we could speak life and words that build each other up
instead of tearing down-
if we learn to listen when the other speaks
to stay absolutely quiet and not be petty-
if we learned to care less about all the little things
as if we’ve had some revelation about all the stuff
that really matters.
maybe….just maybe-
we could start to dream together.

(The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman- last sentence of last chapter)

Hour Nineteen

Grab a random book from your shelf. It can be a book of any genre. Use either the first sentence from the first chapter or the last sentence from the last chapter as the opening line of the poem. Make sure to note the name of the book and the author in a footnote to the poem.
——————————————————————————————————————–

For centuries,
societies around the world
adopted the view that
sex means just one thing;
penis in vagina
intercourse within
the context of marriage
for purposes of procreation.*

Nowadays,

sex is everywhere
sex is hiding in plain sight
sex is the secret currency of life
sex is Disney channel midday
sex is car insurance advertisements
sex is an officer wielding a baton
sex is celebrity tabloid gossip
sex is glossed up night-weather correspondents
sex is vulgar lyrics in pop-music
sex is drunk thirteen year old kids exploring
sex is rooted in a yearning for attention
sex is diluted by lust and nefarious intent
sex is not strangers bumping uglies
sex is not fucking
sex is not home base
sex is not Love

 

*

The Psychology of Human Sexuality
Wiley Blackwell

The Time is Spring

The time is spring.
I love the spring!
Would that it were spring
All year long.

Rain and sunny days
Gardens and wild flowers
Rivers plump with snow melt
And baby bunnies emerging
From the woodpile.

Dragon Country: A Book of Plays
From “In a Bar at a Tokyo Hotel”
Tennessee Williams

Sifting My Dreams (Hour Nineteen)

Sifting my dreams like I’m panning for gold

Or precious stones in a stream.

It’s mostly debris I find,

But now and then, something valuable.

By this time, I must rely

On the plane beyond time,

For here where we are bound by physics,

There are no treasures left;

They must all come now

From another realm.