The Poetry Marathon

Poem #17

I wish that it were easier to let go.
Ignoring the traumas of the past,
Letting the weights drop free of your shoulders,
And wafting up into the clear night sky.

I wish it was as easy as,
writing the event down on a piece of paper and burning it,
Or sending its descrption in a lantern,
and setting it free.

I wish that leaving the past behind was that easy.
Forgetting the events that still flash in front of your eyes and send you shivering, or sobbing.
Or pushing out the people in your life who have hurt you,
and just letting them fade off into the distance,
never to trouble your thoughts again.

Photograph

He stands on a mountain,

a mountain in Russia,

in Russia where they found the cancer,

the cancer that took away his ability to stand

to stand on a mountain, ever again.

passion

mimicking life

animating its action

producing endless wonders

exciting relevance

in every session

alluring life ‘s challenge

endearment of a spirit

resonating in writing

ever passionately manifesting

withstanding all trials that lies ahead

standing firm in all these circumstances

 

Impossibilities #1

If the house ever caught fire
(knock on wood)
and there was only one thing

I could grab before the smoke
was too thick to breathe,
I would stand, petrified,

in awe of how precious
every single thing appeared
to a heart I thought jaded.

Nine…

I’m pacing outside the door.

I want to go in

but I can’t.

I know it’s unlocked.

I know I’m invited.

 

I choose to perch on the railing instead

close my eyes,

and imagine…

 

Your skin must be so soft

and when it is damp like that,

you must smell so wonderful…

 

I experiment, breathing in.

I can feel myself taking the soap from your hands,

and as I look into your blue, blue eyes

I slowly slide the bar over your already slippery body

and I move closer still.

 

I nibble some places that need nibbling,

and I put the bar away because my hands cannot stand

to be even that far away from you…

 

As I run my fingers all over you,

and our breathing changes,

the phone rings.

Startling me, so that I almost fall off the banister.

 

Disoriented, with the taste of you still all over me,

I quietly slip downstairs

to answer it..

Prompt for Hour Seventeen

What one physical object (I am not talking about your dog or cat or baby, but a possession) would you save in case of a fire? Your prompt this hour is to write a poem about that possession.

Close my eyes

When I close my eyes.

I can feel your warm breath .

All over my soft body.

Your warm soft kisses.

On my lips .

Your gentle hands caress me closer.

Too your body where I can feel your.

Breath on my soft skin.

 

A labyrinth

A labyrinth
Choices I made
Decision that I stand upon
Working out to one’s heart content
Uplifting spirit to share
Loving so immensely
A shadow overcome
Learning so tenderly
Life is indeed beautiful

Sleepy

Sleep calling out to me

“For Sweet Dreams await

This is as close as you get to Death’s gate

Tears stream here and there showcasing the battle between Awake vs Sleep

Yawning quickly follows

Drifting off into the deep

Hour 16–Sestina?

Elicit my love a dairy
or if prefer a child
I’m in town to tarry
tired of the wild
prithee don’t be wary
pray thee don’t be riled

For should thou be so riled
to linger at the dairy
a wooly beast as wild
may with you choose to tarry
he is a she with child
better to be wary

And why should I be wary
she taunted and she riled
for unforgotten dairy
so circular and wild
the home in which I tarry
to set upon this child

A bowl of fruit my child
no need that you be wary
no matter you be riled
my father owned this dairy
the fruit is from the wild
if you must leave don’t tarry

The cooper may not tarry
in keeping with a child
I shall burn the dairy
if you be so riled
spoiled you be wary
ruined in the wild

Forget that I am wild
I dare not linger, tarry
you see he is my child
a present just as wary
a bastard never riled
upon a wayward dairy

One two dairy three four wild
Five six child seven eight tarry
the wasted wary rounding ten riled