The Poetry Marathon

One Lesson I’ve Learned Well #8/24

One Lesson I’ve Learned Well

When I was fragile as the bones of birds,
unbroken by the way things go,
I brought a baby chick so tiny and new
but sick and frail and maybe suffering
to my grandmother’s house.
I came looking for her time and tender
fingers that could heal any hurting
with words and attention.
She stared at the small life in my hands
and shook her head.
“Leave it here and I’ll take care of it.”
I was shocked and dismayed. I said “No.”
I began to cry for this helpless feathered
being and wrapped him back in the box
he’d come in. I had no intention of leaving
this soul behind and Grandma knew it.
She reached for my bangs, tucking them
behind my ear, and said with a gentle sincerity:
“Sweet child, not everything in this world
is meant to live.”

“Somebody’s Pet”

The fading sunlight ripples across the water’s veneer.

A magical being emerges from beneath.

Black and green scaley skin.

Amber, diamond shaped eyes.

A single deadly horn juts from its head.

Teeth like razors primed to rip me to shreds.

Yet this beast makes no move against me.

It is docile, domesticated.

Somebody’s pet.

The Artist by the Shore

In the still of the night
All I hear is the slight drizzle by the window
Tiny droplets of rain making sounds as they fall on the ground.

On this cool July evening
Alone in my room
Still can’t bring myself to slumber,
My mind starts to wander
How I long to be in a far away island.

Far away from this hustle and hurried life
Let time stop for a while as I dream on,
Walk bare footed on the white sand and watch the tiny waves playing like kids
As the cold wind sweeps and caresses my warm cheeks.

I dream of sitting by the seashore
Where I can sketch the setting sun in all its glory and beauty
Colorful hues of orange, yellow, red in my palette,
Gentle strokes of the paintbrush as I get hypnotized by its aura
Distant mountains at the far horizon caught my eye
Wondering how could I cross to the other side and be in another world.

I’m gonna play my music, too
By the shore where the sound of the tides goes in rhythm with my heart
Appreciate the beautiful and astounding nature
Created by God, His gift to mankind,
By the shore is all I wanna be
Spending time as I wait
For the sun to finally set in and bid it goodbye as I close my eyes and sleep.

Author/Poet Elizabeth E. Castillo

Nature Walk

A clear-water rill threads over black earth,

salaal, bracken and sword fern

crowding thick from either side.

 

Overhead, the canopy, where evergreens

mesh with maples, a friendly clash of greens,

and bluejays scream, crows caw,

chickadees chicka dee-dee.

 

You don’t like it here.

There’s nowhere clean to sit and

there is mud on your shoes.

You will go no further.

 

It does no good to point out the salmonberry flowers;

you point out the devil’s club.

I say trillium, you say nettle,

I say huckleberry, you say

let’s go back to the car.

 

But look, I almost add, there’s a bleeding heart.

I don’t. You won’t see it anyway.

Remembering the Room

Her long, brown hair lies flat against her right-turned face;
hands, arms, feet, neck, swollen.
Her hospital gown, wrinkled and dirty,
it had been draped on her for days.

She’s propped up against the headboard,
the dull hospital-room lighting casts shadows
that make it hard to tell she isn’t breathing.
It’s ok, I don’t really want to see it anyways.

Staring at her hands, so soft, yet so cold;
the rigamortis hasn’t set in yet.
Her nails look like tiny pins in sausages,
the thought gives me a feeling of disgrace.

Through the darkness of the room,
I can barely make out the pale color of her skin.
I try, but I can only look at her hands,
I am glad for the poor lighting and the hair in her face.

I recall those hands petting horses’ mane,
picking chicken’s eggs for breakfast,
and teaching me to sew.
They were always my favorite pair of hands.

My heart is pounding,
I am terrified to me in this room.
I just want to brush-back her hair,
but I can barely glance at the strands.

“You’re gone,”
I hear a voice that I imagine is my own.
There is no response.
The silence plunges the heavy feeling into my chest.

I am now so much older,
but I remember my urge to flee the room.
Honestly, the emptiness is all I truly remember,
I try to forget the rest.

(Hour 7

I’m alright, okay?
What else can I say,
you continue to pray,
and say how dismain,
I appear to be,
when will you see,
that this is me.
I am happy is this place,
not looking for a race,
or another lying face,
destroyed by the void
they call self pity,
a drop with no bottom,
but you brought then
with glee.
When will you see,
that this is just me.

#7

rain drops
falling onto the glass
sliding downards
slowly
and fast
catching up with the others
forming patterns
and lines
a race to reach
the bottom of
the window
and still you say
there is nothing
to watch

Hour 7

The Sun in my Eye

Radiant rays slide silently through
All sensations of warmth running anew
Piercing the shadows dark and cold
Stands its path proud and bold
Reaching to alight all in its way
Flickers of gold dance through its elegant sway
Lightly, gently caressing me
A sea of intense passions running free
Lifting my spirits in gleeful servitude
Fighting my shadows unaware of its magnitude
Yet too soon it leaves to continue
Lighting the life of a friend new
And I wait another day
For the sun in my eye

Stealing Love (hour 7) Visual

Dancing in the moonlight
she embraced the sweet caress of his lips
as he ran his fingers through her hair
she melted in his arms like butter spread on bread
the dew was wet on the grass
the bugs singing in the dark
the smell of fresh air as
the wind blew through her hair
then it suddenly hit like a rock,
he did not belong to her
they were only stealing love
on a bright summers night.

The thought to let him go she just could not maintain,
the pleasure of his manhood was all she could entertain.
the intense pleasure was like a light dancing in the dark
How can I keep my stealing lover for ever?
How can I let go of such romance?
Their love is like a river as it flows
down stream you can hear the water trickles
like the blood rushing through their veins.
The sand over their bodies is like velvet
as they caress on the shore, stealing Love.

Top Climb

Broken down
Sound bound
Earth shakes
It molds and makes
Quality Beauty
Golden duty
Of a solider