The Poetry Marathon

Who Needs A/C?

Midwestern girl transplanted in the Bay Area.

Temp. job in a warehouse.

No air conditioner.

Who needs A/C in the Bay?

Typing, filing, sweating.

“I’m in the mood for an icy pop,”

I chirped,

Imagining a Big Gulp filled with Diet Coke

And

Lots

And

Lots

Of

Ice.

“I’ll run out and get us some snacks. What flavor do you want?”

What flavor do I want? What is she talking about?

“Diet Coke?” half question, half answer.

                “Diet Coke? They make Diet Coke popsicles?”

Popsicle?

“I don’t want a popsicle. I want a pop with lots of ice.”

“Pop? Oh, you mean soda.”

Moving is tough.

Prompt 12. Moving.

A Moving Tale.

A noisy adulterer
Snagged his pants
On a lemony tree,
While climbing
Over the filigree.
He got off a kiss
But had to leg it
Due to the risk.
He was met
By an irate wife
Who decried
His “other life”
His “extra job”
And knifed him
In the gob,
For infidelity.
It was the lemony tree
That gave him away.
You see.

Poem 12- Moving Forward- Poetry Half Marathon by Ingrid

Moving forward with great glee

Moving forward…follow me.

Moving forward…1. 2. 3

 

Moving forward…with certain doubt

Moving forward…now what is that about?

 

Moving forward and making change…

Moving forward can feel quite strange.

 

Leaving the other comfortable me

Broadening my horizons so that I can see.

 

A better version of me.

Natural You

You are the sunrise

Radiant heat bringing warmth so bright

Never scorching the hide of young girls, who run barefooted on the earth

To rest upon antiquity while basking in the light

 

You are a cool, mysterious poneglyph

Holding the wisdom of the ages in secret

Protecting the riddles that drive children to search for independence

To explore things bigger than themselves, fearlessly, boldly, with abandon

 

You are a gentle summer rain

Precious drops in which to dance, to twirl, to leap alive

Filling full the aquifers of young minds that ponder love and loss

That they may bloom and stretch their roots for a firmer hold

 

 

by Karen Sullivan

Form: Lyric

 

 

Hour 12

Move

To move is to change
Change one’s mind and how its arranged
So move to what inspires
Move to lost desires
Move away from what shatters
Your heart, though it flatters
Your mind, your soul, your heart must all move
To let bring change for the better; improve

Lazy Weekend

The ceiling fan moving the air in silent waves.
The blinds swaying gently in response
An airplane high above, its shadow tracing over the window.
Rise and fall of my chest with each shallow breath.
Must close my eyes again for just a few moments more.

Hour 12–How to Conduct Oneself In Public

no untoward loitering

so one must place one foot

in front of the other

(no jaunty angles)

be dignified

the above action not to resemble “dancing”

unless one is within a licensed dancing

establishment

Hour Twelve – Life is moving

“Work is so good for the soul” they said

as I stacked stupid shelves for a wage.

“You’re young, and you can doing anything,”

they said, as I watched myself age.

 

And so it went on for many a year

of back-breaking, soul-crushing crap.

I worked for the man, I worked for myself

no, nothing was thrown in my lap.

 

One day I moved from workhorse to sloth

to afford my poor body a rest

and now I’m that person, I’m dreaming of work

yes, life is ironic at best.

Soul Moving

House to house
Pillows and Blankets
Transgressions bounce
Sage willow and anxious bandits
Possessions 1 ounce
Silent mouse

Solo climb within

 

 

Hour 12: The Courtesan

Pouring out the wine

She does not speak, she’s silent

She does not love him

He thinks of her so fondly

Yet he will not marry her