The Poetry Marathon

(Hour 6)

Take your hatred out on me,
pull the knife out of the dammed
and watch them bleed,
watch them plead for forgiveness,
the only thing that seems
to give any relevance,
so take your stance,
be the firs tin line to dine
on their fear.
While the crowd begins to cheer,
there is no forgiveness here,
everyone is but a dear,
with a knife being pulled out,
simply to be watched while they bleed,
as they start to plead for forgiveness,
no longer caring for relevance,
regretting the stance you once took,
we changed the chapters of this book,
for the tables have been turned
and this time it’s you getting burned.

Haiku #6

My mem’ries are doors.

All I have to do is knock

And they turn for me.

Teeming

The forest alive; moss-skinned, bark boned
The forest alive; moss-skinned, bark boned
clothed in dresses woven of grass,
and spun with web, embroidered with flowers

The forest alive; moss-skinned, bark boned
The forest alive; moss-skinned, bark boned
breathily sighing through the leaves,
its whispers gathered in tree hollows

The forest alive; moss-skinned, bark boned
The forest alive; moss-skinned, bark boned
many-eyed boulders scattered throughout
heavy lidded stones slowly blink and gaze

The forest alive; moss-skinned, bark boned
The forest alive; moss-skinned, bark boned
it’s lips the streams bouncing about
trickling with gossip from neighbors upstream

The forest alive; moss-skinned, bark boned
The forest alive; moss-skinned, bark boned

Maera – The Hound of Erigone 6/24

Oh Maera, virtuous hound…
So much more than just a dog,
You were Loyalty Incarnate.

How swift your tread when you found
The grave of Icarius,
Father of Erigone your mistress,
Where he was murdered and buried…

When she hung herself
Because of grief for her father
Your canine heart broke
And the tragedy became three-fold…

How vast your love
And how deep your grief
When you cast yourself
Off the cliff that day
And followed her soul
Into the afterlife…

The honor bestowed on you
Was bittersweet when you
Became Procyon in Canis Minor
And Erigone became
The Virgo constellation –
So close you were on Earth…
Yet so far apart among the stars…

How beautiful your shining –
For everyone to see –
How profound your sacrifice of Self –
Maera – the Dog Star…

© 2015 Antoinette LeRoux

Hour Six: Corn

Staple of the Cherokee, one of three
sisters, along with beans and squash.
Corn is all you need
for tacos, for liquor, for punch lines,
syrup and grits.
As corny as it gets,
you can’t keep it down on the farm.
Eat it in Paris, in Peoria, next week
in Kearney, Nebraska. Corn on the
cob, corn dog, muffin, chowder.

If you don’t watch out, corns on
your toes, from all those kernels
up your nose.

#6bis – Decorated turtle egg

I found it at the back of the garden

I knew I had to hide it under my pillow

Without letting anyone seeing it

 

I was afraid when I fell asleep

I could feel something was

About to happen that night

 

I wake up this morning

From a nightmare

Ineffable I am someone else

 

Something happened this night

I still have no clue about it

Really magic this decorated turtle egg

Hour 6: Estate agent

“Here, this is the bridge you cross; it’s old,

And has been crying out for something more;

Perhaps you could knock it down.

 

“This stone path takes us to a meadow

It is said that Keats once walked here. Or something.

Imagineer it: gravel.

 

“The courtyard is 15th century

Original features intact, as was.

Paint this blue, I would. Trendy.

 

“The view across the valley is vast:

Lush green foliage and scented jasmine.

Would make a great golf course.”

Mystic of Varamour

Under triple suns we wait,

amongst the trees below the mountain.

Under seven skies we meet,

across the savage garden.

 

Seek the orbs knowledge,

mine the crystals of power.

Bring for the Mystic,

let her summon the power.

 

Create our daemon,

let it roam at will.

Watch is chase the Orc’s,

watch it kill.

 

Of magic and metal,

with no true master.

It shall kill all,

it shall be a disaster.

 

But here we have our Mystic,

with powers unknown.

She’ll banish the creature,

before the future unfolds.

All hail the Mystic of Varmaour.

Pandora box

Living on fear
Attach to the memories
Scare to take action
Many question are raise
No answer at all
The law it’s useless
Only their law counts
My voice it’s mute
My rights are taken
My life it’s reduce to four walls
Waiting for this locks to be broken⏳
Is freedom next or a cold cell next
I open my eyes and it’s still dark
I see no light
I’m calm Bc my most important values are out of sight
My enemy can’t touch it
I rather die alone
Them to see my soul cry and lost
Trying to safe me
I rather be soulless without my
Princesses; than have them
Taken and suffering
I’m happy inside
Bc I gave them a fighting chance
My mistake won’t touch them
Only the pain of not having me
But it’s ok
As long they protected by god laws
I know I Had sin
And for each of my sin
It’s a price to pay.
I’m paying the higher price
With ocean in between us
I love you
My darling
Keep going this journey
My soul would be near
My love in a box
But your freedom it’s endless
And so it’s my memories.
—Meriyen Marquez✨

Keyholes in Cobblestones

The sun shines best
through the cracks,
through the tracks
of the paths less taken.

Shaken, we stir
the breeze; ask
the trees for ribbons
of things we do not know.

Throw us the glimmer
of a day spent raising
limbs, climbing something
greater than all this skin.