End of day
It’s the end of the day
I’ve had a lot to say
The movie was fun
I sat on my bun
Lunch was on fire
I sat down beside her
And the actress kept moving away
At the end of the scene
We walked away mean
And the passion was only beginning
Love Blooms-Poem 12-
Love Blooms- Poem 12- Poetry Half Marathon-
Fragile and delicate
LOVE blooms,
with care.
This cloistered bud begins
to open slowly,
showered by your Light.
Like a flower whose petals
open to the Sun,
LOVE explodes
in colour,
because of YOU.
By Ingrid Exner
The Present
Oh, thank you dear Elinor.
I’m a vague stranger to you, but I am writing to say that your call changed my life.
The man who had been seated, got up and came over to where I was.
Such excitement!
He picked me up, out of obscurity (the tail end of 34th street) and
sent me on a journey.
It was only four doors down, but I went
from being with my own
to being cherished as unique.
I transformed from a couch potato, sitting on a shelf
to finding someone I could sing my tune to.
She picked me up lovingly and whispered sweet nothings to me
as she placed me down in that cold room.
She said not to worry, that she’d come back for me.
So I thought about what I would tell her.
I’d belt out a Broadway tune, I would.
When her manicured paws tugged at me, I knew it was time.
Time to show her what I knew.
So sing I did. My Broadway debut kind of entrance.
That pop!
was happy
the two women started laughing.
I shared in their joy.
Though I did wonder what my friends were doing a few doors down.
Would they find people to love them?
Were they as blissful as I was? I hoped so.
Clink~!
The sound of champagne flutes kissing.
The ladies drank me in. Were impressed by me.
But it didn’t stop there!
They complimented my body, my crispness. They knew me, the real me!
My voyage was cut short, but I know I was loved.
Yours always,
the first bottle of Veuve Cliquot
More Haddam Noises 8PM
Fireworks booming outback
not in my yard
What can I do?
What should I do?
Nothing, I’m up all night tonight.
Dystopian Haikus
Imagine a world
Where no one had any pain.
What would that be like?
Would we all be numb?
Would we not feel anything?
Would it be worth it?
Who would give up joy?
Imagine no one could laugh.
Trading pain for none.
It doesn’t sound good.
I’d rather have joy and pain.
Than to feel nothing.
© 2014 D. Edward Croy
For the Love of Wine
Hour 12 – 5:00 PM
Been done gone, been way on.
Wine to the rim, a bottle; about four gone.
Merlot, Burgundy, ill take a glass of each.
Rose for the win, Charadonnay for keeps.
I love them all, it’s the Argentine in me.
– J.C. ©
Congratulations Half Marathoners!
Congratulations Half Marathoners you have completed your task!
12 poems in 12 hours is no easy feat.
If for some reason you feel the urge to continue on, you can join the full marathoners for the next 12 hours. If not, relax and reward yourself for all that hard work
If you completed the half marathon please send us an email (at poets@thepoetrymarathon.com) with your name, email address, and mailing address (for us to mail the certificate of completion to). There is no rush.
In the next week or so we will be in contact with you about the forthcoming anthology chapbooks. Only poets who completed the half and full marathons will be eligible for inclusion in the chapbook. All poets who are in the chapbook will get a complimentary copy shipped to them.
Thank you for writing so many poems in such a short time frame. We look forward to reading them once we recover.
Grey Matter Gluttony
Hunger.
Vociferously voracious,
Her brain hunts prey.
Cerebral cortex,
crouched at the ready,
a predator of thought.
Big game hunter,
it searches
for sustenance.
Ever questing
the answers to questions,
to satisfy the emptiness.
Addicted to the carbs
of intellect,
Satisfying, but somehow short.
Give me more.
The whys, the wherefores,
The whats and whens.
Fill me with wonder,
Wheels turning feverishly,
To still the pangs of perception.
Never full,
Restlessly ruminating…
The carnivore of ideas.
Hoping against hope,
It’s food source,
Never goes the way of the DODO.
Extinct. No More.
Bereft of the Benefit,
To die of starvation.
With no food for thought.
( Whew , made it.. though I can’t say honestly that most were my best work, and I included a couple I did earlier so they were part of the group…Good Luck to those doing the whole 24 hrs..12 was hard and exhausting enough..lol..thanks for this opportunity to challenge myself )
6 pm Poem
Maybe the joy of meeting someone new
Trumped all my precautions
And maybe getting addicted to you
Was not the healthiest of my options
My Husband the Prince
People notice his movie-star good looks
but his inside is even more spectacular.
I cannot imagine my life without this wonderful man.
Non-judgmental, he really listens. And helps and encourages. Every one needs a man like him.
His thoughtfulness and ability to make me laugh helps rid tension at the end of a day.
In turn, I don’t overeat, so he’s helping keep me thin.
I dubbed him “My Husband” and we joke that ours is the perfect marriage:
we don’t sleep together and
we live in separate apartments separated by four floors.
Climbing the distance helps keep both us in shape.
He remembers my birthday and picks me up things on sale.
When I need a shoulder to cry on, he offers me both of his.
And a stuffed animal.
And then he hugs me until I stop sobbing.
When summer began, he surprised me by doing my windows.
All five of them.
I didn’t realize I had such a beautiful view of Manhattan.
That step started an avalanche.
I decided to declutter and rid my place of unwanted items.
Which led to a greater appreciation of my home.
I re-arranged furniture so that my “new” apartment is welcoming.
I sleep better and am more creative.
He supports my artistic lifestyle and never makes me feel bad about my decisions.
Even my stupid, “what-was-I-thinking?” ones.
By living frugally, we keep ourselves out of debt
and a coffee out becomes a great treat.
It’s not about the location, it’s about the company.
And he’s the best you could ask for.
With him I understand why people want marriage.
He’s a partner, helping me evolve and grow as a person and as an artist.
Such a journey is not without stumbles,
and his strength picks me back up and puts me back on track again.
Ours is a fairy tale friendship.
It took me several decades, but
I met my modern day Prince
and days I’m feeling particularly generous,
I share him with my other wonderful friends.
Everyone needs a Prince Robert Bruce.
To him, I say,
“Thank you so much for everything and for being you, mi amor.”