The Poetry Marathon

Summer’s End

” Summer’s End”

Summer is at its end, this summer night has fallen.

Sadly the crickets song is silent,

For the weather has grown too cold for them too bear.

Summer where have you gone?

You came and went oh so quickly.

Soon my noisy home will be filled with silence all day.

Ever so will I miss the splendid beauty of all the flowers you bloom.

The cooler night air brings promises of winter’s icy grip.

No more fairs, no more carnivals,

No more campfires, no more shiny bright stars at night.

Yet, Summer’s end brings the Fall and all of its marvels to behold.

The Ballad of Meowleen the Airship Pirate, part 3

The ship descended in the dead of night
But the pirates had their amber lights
They armed themselves with rayguns readySoon as the ship had landed steady
They broke in, silent as they could
To explore and steal just like they shouldStrangely, though, there were no guards
Which was quite weird, as it regards
A lab of such notorious class
With details of the finest brass
Would surely not be left unwatched
It’s almost like there was a catch
To this new oh-so easy heist
And suddenly, there was a slice!
Across the throat of Meowleen’s first mate
Soon in a messy post-life state
And she heard steps behind her back
Then suddenly, it all went black

Within

There was a brief moment

When I held ALL.

When I saw the spark

That is this moment

And is eternity,

And is infinity.

Timeless in its omnipotence.

I still hold ALL.

 

When lifted from the ashes,

All illusion falls away,

And we are left with this…

The moment of our birth

And the moment of our death.

 

Realizing that

All in between

Is a grand lesson

To teach us how to fly.

With the Knowing

That Love is Light

And Light is Love

And All that is real

Is within.

New Forest

Running through the shadows

of a newly found forest

brass and copper

lined the paths

 

shifting chanting

notion less

being still and silent

In the mist

 

Fleece is sent

through the mill

making wool

so cool and thrill

 

Tens of Thousands

days to go

why not let the magic flow.

 

 

Something

Jump into something

Blue

Something to

Change and some extraordinary

Happy

~.%

Young criminals

We’re allowed to shoot them these days,

those pesky little brats

they get three written warnings,

then that’s the end of that;

we pack them off to cryogenics

to wait their turn to die,

when we’ve got a group of ten

we get to end their lives;

you look a little horrified,

but you’re living in the past,

our crime rate is down

employment’s up,

they learned the lesson fast;

welcome to the new earth,

you’ve been frozen for a while,

time to get you all cleaned up,

today is the beginning of your trial.

 

The Reality Slap

The string of truth

A fine line that pierces deep within

At first your breath is taken away

For a split second where you feel nothing

But you instinctively know its coming

That excoriating pain, that sudden jolt

The thud that sends tremors through your body

Then the aching starts from your heart

With each beat the aching gets stronger

 

Then the tears start of flow

Streaming down your cheeks,

Running down your cheeks to your neck

Uncontrollable sobs begin

Like waves growing bigger with each rep

 

You look up at your tormentor

Right in the eye looking deep within

Behind their anger and guilt to their heart

Beating uncontrollably

Aching in pain

The dull ache of years of anger and pain

Built up inside

 

What do you do?

Lash out and continue the war

Or do you look them in the eye?

Show them compassion and forgiveness

And turn on your feet smiling

And walk away

 

For the universe will even the scales in due course

From every painful situation

Comes the opportunity for a new beginning

Have strength in this knowing

And trust

Prompt for Hour Thirteen

Write a poem with no visual imagery in it whatsoever. Instead rely on your other 4 senses to pull the poem along.

Deadline

Three minutes.
I’ve made worse decisions
In less time and lived
To write this poem.
Two minutes.

Dear My Younger Self

Oh, dear, younger self,
do not fill your days with worry
and your time with Bad Boys’ boozy promises; they lead to broken illusions.

Oh, dear, slightly older self,
enjoy all that you’ve been given instead of seeing that which you lack.

Oh, dear, how did I get to be X years old self,
smile. Laugh. Forget the pain and remember the curiosity, the fun, you new lease on life. Life begins at X.

Oh, dear, older self,
learn to be proud of sagacity. Wrinkles are jokes shared. You’ve just done a whole lot of chuckling.
Find another younger lover to remind you that your tummy is a perfect pillow and not fat at all.
Share your wisdom with those versions of blonde=haired, scared girls who are mimicking your mistakes.
Thank your friends and family and start new habits.
Know that all is going to turn out just fine and fretting never helps.

Oh, dear, dear me. Thanks for always being there.