The Poetry Marathon

Sunset and Poetry

There is something about the sunset that makes us weave dreams
As the day bids adieu to welcome a calm evening anew
Staring at its magnanimous display of stunning hues,
Takes you to a dreamland, a nameless place, another undiscovered world
Perhaps a new frontier beyond your wildest imagination.

I can paint a marvelous landscape through my dancing words
While looking at such splendor, the Master Artist’s touch
Rhyming words, screaming to come out of my head,
Why do a lot of hearts have this certain fondness of you dear sunset?
Could be that you are God’s manifestation of His poetic art.

Those cottony clouds of different formations make you look lovelier
Wordsmiths like me create our masterpieces out of just admiring you from a far
The gentle breeze brushing my warm cheeks blush at the mere sight of you,
Such grandeur cannot be replaced by anything as beautiful as this scene unfolding right in front of my naked eyes.

Author/Poet Elizabeth Esguerra Castillo
Philippines

B (6)

Big B, little b what begins with B?

Booze.
I don’t drink as much as I used to,
but the way the lips bop together
on the B and then
the kissable shape from the
oooooooooooooooooo,
followed by the buzzing
ZZZZZZZ.

It’s a nice word.

Images (hour 6, 2:04pm)

It is difficult to put into words.

Images created are often

chimeras,

desert wishes on a long,

overheated trek.

Should I take the spoiled

French bulldog?

Wearing the sweatshirt

like a fighter

warming up,

he is not where my

gravity sits.

The handful of moss

without the eyes

would have been better,

for me, anyway,

or perhaps not.

Then there is the keyhole

window onto the countryside.

The tree, the tall, uncut grasses,

the falling down

of the stone structure.

This last is most

like me.

I kid myself that though

my running days are over,

I can still hike.

I can climb the Blue Ridge Mountains,

or crawl the Appalachian Trail.

And I will do this,

through the pain of

locking joints,

the loss of synovial fluid

in my knee,

and the agony

of losing forward.

Maybe, one day,

on some grassy, steep knoll,

instead of walking down

after climbing up, and feeling

every grind of

bone on bone,

I’ll simply tuck inside myself,

and roll on down

the hill.

Instantly I’m reminded of my favorite childhood movie, “The Secret Garden”

That I’d to get lost in as a young girl

It consumed my mind and my heart

Caught up in their intensely emotional and magical world

I’d be sucked in to the painful undertones

I remember crying every time

Even when I memorized the story line

There was beauty in their struggles, virtues in their pain

And an extraordinary bond between three children

Who had come from different worlds

Seeking the same thing, an unyielding love

Together they challenged their circumstance

With the hope and determination of even a glance

Of a mysterious garden that enchanted their hopeful hearts

And through the screen, they shared with me

A vision of love I had never before seen

Through magic and wanderlust

I had been given the key to my own mystery

The key to perseverance, allowing me

To continue to chase the beauty in spite of my misplaced trust

…………

The clueless are always convinced they have a clue.

Shredding you apart with their  inconsiderations, deceit is their only truth.

V.Sky

#6

Step out of the shadows.
They’re not the night
that hides you,
and they’re not the light,
that makes you shine.

In the shadows you are
not a rebel and
not unseen, but
perhaps unnoticed.

Step through the gates,
I know they appear narrow
and it may seem they will
close on you or collapse,
that just by looking at them
you are holding them together
but as soon as you take that
step they will fall apart.

All it takes is just one
first step to go into the
light that will illuminate
what you have to share
with the world.

Writing prompt photo used as inspiration:

#6

Hour 6

fishing reminds me of you-
torn hat, vest, soggy old shoes, rod and spinner
I watch the curve of your strong calves
as you spring from rock to boulder upstream
standing in shallows, lying in wait for your prey

fishing makes you smell like the river-
of wet leaves and dirt
and I like it
dried salt on your neck tastes good
the warm curve of your arm around my back
you smell like home to me

Tied down

I buckled again, my knees gave out at a time when needed most, why were they different than hers, the other women, that I can’t keep my mind off of simply because I’m trying to understand what you see, you men that form relationships with me, get me in knee deep then break my bones, fracturing over and over again, no wonder I’m unsure, insecure and searching for her to see what you need more. There I said it, I’m insecure, sound the alarms, shine the lights I’m dying trying to remove the truth…

Picture Prompt Poem for Hour Six – Absolute Beaut

Rough-cut and wretched,

But thoroughly vetted

And valuable, no doubt

Could handle themselves about

Town

And even without fineries and gowns

Would cut an impressive figure

With their signature

Style –

It’s all in the eye

Of the beholder

And as you grow older,

You see why:

Charisma will always shine

And beauty is

Absolutely

Defined

By that spark – even in the dark.

(c) Gemma Hinton 13/06/15