The Poetry Marathon

As we get old

As we get old,

Cracking limbs and joints,

Synchronization of bones,

Moving to get fit, to keep my throne.

 

Mind Cages – 16/24

I place potential lovers into cages of my mind
they scratch numerals on bricks
to keep track of time

they usually lose it,

time is hard to catch

as am I, but a treat to watch
they eventually stop counting
and hum along the tune
and realize it’s

better here

in decorated gloom

than a life of complacency

outside of the room-

because other people would

probably cage them, too

Beyond the Veil

Are you a God, my darling angel?
You, the one who saved me that day.
Was it in May? Or June?

I’d been dead so long.
For months it seems
Flying about with the Sylphs
And faeries.

And then you came.
You with the heavy load upon your back.
You with the smiling eyes and sweaty brow.
They mocked you.

I loved you then as I do now, my Lord,
My God. Are you a God?

Father

I got my love of learning from my father
He also gave it to my brother
I got my love of people from my mother
who also shared this with my sister
I am reminded I am not alone by my friend
and forced to interact by my cat
Of all who know me, the best is my cat
though, the one who understood me was my father
Try as much as she can, I tend to hide from my friend
and have never shared much with my brother
When we were young, I thought I knew my sister
but have never understood my mother
It has been a tough life for my mother
causing her to complain, even about my cat
She depends on so much from my sister
even more so than she had my father
though she has always favored my brother
she never failed to act like a Mom to my friend
and now older, life is different for my friend
I find she acts more and more like my mother
but still doesn’t talk much to my brother
at least she has made up with my cat
and understands how much I miss my father
something I don’t talk about, even with my sister
It is ironic how much alike are my sister
and this now older friend
I wonder how things would be different with my father
what would have changed for my mother
I know he would have loved my cat
and he would be proud of my brother
But would I have stayed close with my brother
would things have moved so completely for my sister
would I have been there to meet my cat
so much is connected to that day, my friend
so much bitterness wrapped up my mother
on the day cancer took my father
It changed my brother, It changed my friend
It destroyed my sister, It destroyed my mother
Is it strange that when I see my cat, sometimes I can feel my father

Emptiness

Emptiness

In a dark corner of the world,

Broken spirit have lost it’s mission, forever drifted.

Trailing lonely paths,with no clear intention,

Locked in their own world,

No trace of hope unfold.

Forbidden souls,roam in state of insanity,we mourn.

In a dark corner of the world,destitute soul bare and cold.

 

 

Nonsestina

I decided on a gleeful whim one evening to entertain
The travelling musicians who played priceless violins
And promised them that, following my advice, they’d regain
The boundless joy they had access to as children
Without apparent spiritual or moral compromise
Or sacrifice of a productive life or useful, healthy limb.

I went out, as you could have guessed, on quite a trembling limb.
In my gleeful, whimsical, quest to chat and entertain,
I made an unexpected but productive compromise:
I’d be the low-paid but respected valet to their violins
So they could have the freedom to access their inner children
And a sliver of that earthly paradise they could regain.

The dignity I’d built up for myself, alas, I could not regain.
I left my house and left my dear husband on a shaky limb,
And bid a long, tearful farewell to my beloved children.
I left some dreams and hopes with them which they could entertain:
The travels and travails I would encounter with the violins
And the moral standards I would not ever, ever, ever compromise.

The very next morning, however, a most alarming compromise
Was discovered in the backmost wagon: we would not regain
Possession of our precious, life-sustaining, costly violins
Unless we agreed to risk our life and (maybe–God forbid) our limb:
Unless we’d promise, under oath, to gladly entertain
A certain loathsome Mafioso’s spoiled, ungrateful children.

Let me say something about the situation with the children.
Their father was all too willing to sneak about and compromise
Basic human decency to capture us. We’d entertain
His offspring, in far-fetched and vengeful hopes that he would soon regain
The dignity he lost when, one fateful evening, his lower limb
Was sawed off by my rebel musicians! Who played rebellious violins!

And so, briefly repossessing and caressing their violins
For the sake of entertaining the Mafioso’s children,
The musicians performed, they shredded, hopped along from limb to limb,
An embarrassing display, a dreadful moral compromise!
At this rate, the childhood I had promised they’d never regain
If they were bound by oath and Mafioso threats to entertain.

Under the screeching violins, we all refused to compromise:
The spoiled, ungrateful children now had nothing to regain–
We went out on a limb, defenstrated the Mafioso–that’s how you entertain!

Stealing

I tiptoe across

night, and broken syllables

I am a poem thief.

Eight…

We need. Inside.

If hurt, we hide.

 

We need real love.

Fits like a glove.

 

We need deep sleep.

Not Li’l Bo Peep.

 

We need our brains.

(I hope it rains!)

 

We need more time

for this bad rhyme…

“The Road Not Taken” Hour 13

I came to a fork in the road,

I even almost ran over a huge toad.

I paused and pondered as I waited for the gigantic toad to pass.

Which road will lead me there quicker?

The road well-known was heavily travelled.

On the other hand the road not taken was just that- not taken.

I hastily made my choice and set upon my way.

I regret it till this day.

I really should have went the other way.

Hour Sixteen

I came in the back of the line, always Last;

They thought they were going the right way, only I came Home.

I will see them again before long, in our final Grave–

We will shake hands and take our kiss from Death.

Because after all, we did what we meant to in Life,

We came in through nothingness and again were Born.

 

In us every galaxy of the cosmos was Born,

the light from those pulsars will always Last,

even after our eyes rot away in Death.

it’s not that bad at all, the shelter of a Grave,

Always searching for a place to rest, and finally finding Home.

A struggle no longer at the end of Life.

 

Wickedness absolved and sins sanctified through Life.

when angels and demons crept onto our shoulders to be Born.

as if the light from heaven would peak through the clouds at Last,

we eagerly await the gentle grace of transient Death.

Jesus holds my hand walking me to the Grave;

I’ll follow no one, because only I know my way to my Home.

 

In between my eyes, deep in my mind, that is where I find Home.

Pity be all those lost and searching never finding True Life,

Samsara will wrap them back around, another chance to be Born.

And from that first, hopefully timeless breath to last

A thousand lives met in a single moment at Death.

Laying beside every manifestation of Life, a universal Grave;

 

We’ll climb our way, as spirits, from the Grave.

ascend a ladder of lightning to find Home,

and when our fate is gone, we’ll finally be at peace at Last,

but the relief will be fleeting, because it is our nature to be Born,

to suffer through Life,

and savor the release of Death.

 

Do you long for the kiss of Death?

To dive into your forgotten Grave,

So you may finally know the warmth of Home,

Be rid of your aching Life.

and maybe take on a new form once you’ve been Born.

Can you remember the life you lived Last?

 

Or is this the Last time you will welcome Death?

Find your Spirit-Home beyond your Grave,

and if you never take Life for granted, you will be Born.