The Poetry Marathon

This Moment (hour 4) by Pams

 

On the first day of spring

I drove by that place you took me once

because your father was still

building those beautiful houses

that were still only bones of themselves.

We could only see the darkness

that lay between the framed wood.

It filled our imaginations with delight,

and so we parked and kissed deeply.

Now those moments are etched

in our hearts like matching tattoos or the stained-glass windows

on the finished house that even your mother’s strident disapproval

couldn’t remove. I want to share this with you

as the sun melts the snow and leaves.

The crocuses are blissfully naked and dripping.

This is the moment I chose for you to relive with me now

as it should have been then.

Hour 4

Hour 4:

Never picture myself caught in the lies of a love affair,

I initiated more,

Nonetheless, I couldn’t fathom you would take it there,

omittance of truth,

Is the same as a lie,

So looking at you the same,

Is going to take some time,

No need to express any emotions,

The parameters of our relationship was not thoroughly established,

But I should have noticed your sporadic habits,

I had a feeling, but like a child on the playground, I let it slide,

Seesaw, roller coaster of emotions, along for the ride,

Questions should’ve gotten answered,

Questions that never was asked,

Moments to years… Time went so fast,

Questions speed through my mind like an olympic race,

We must talk for my thoughts to hold steadfast,

Though I’m not just yet ready to take on this daunting task.

My vulnerabilities may open, this page has passed,

I’m turning a new page, (the books still open),

Using different color ink,

Displaying what it means to be free.

Hour 4: Goodbye, Two Weeks Shy

To have and to hold from this day forward
In sickness and in health
Two weeks shy
…there’s an odd feeling of displacement in that
In the midst of the grief
Tears upon tears
Rage at the universal unfairness of the universe
Rage and tears – both
Both of enough to drown the whole world
Everybody knows that everybody dies
Yet no one truly *knows*,
No one truly *believes*
Not really
We live here, in the now
We have, and hold, and love, and *live*
For ten
For twenty
For thirty
For forty
For fifty
For …two weeks shy…
and *lose*
Just two weeks shy to say goodbye
The old refrain goes so –
“I hate to see you go
But I love to watch you leave”
And so it is
In all other times
All times
But the last
Vale Farewell Adieu

6am Poem 4. A Tanka on Marriage

6am Poem 4.

A Tanka on Marriage

Lay with me today.
Honey with me everyday
till we are no more
till our whispers take their shape
in our childrens’ loving acts.

Hour #4: Flower Moon

The moon phase begins its round

of growing, perhaps a budding moon—

eggs hatching with creativity.  Earthbound,

 

we don’t begin knowing these changes—

we grow with the hare moon or milk moon,

new urges manifesting. Then estrangement

 

comes, still there is fruition—take May

for instance, when moon’s ripe for laying,

then over it goes in September, delayed

 

dormant sprouts, asleep, no budding forth,

energy maneuvering underground. Then seed

planting arrives again, stirred by warmth.

Not My Door (2023 Poem Four)

Not My Door

Ceremony
Brings us together
Tears us apart

Hopes, dreams, connection
Other
Ultimately Unknown

Be your best
Facade of self
Projection of your hopes and fears

I set down my pack
You place boulders inside
This is not my door

 

(Prompt: Write a poem about the topic of marriage, without ever using the word marriage, and while also ideally avoiding the words spouse, husband, and wife.)

Belonging

Belonging

Searching forever for a home

My soul belonging nowhere and everywhere

All at the same time

My life like a jigsaw

Made of thousands of tiny moments

Some fitting together, some twisted

beyond what the eye can see

My heart missing a beat

Scared of the unknown

Will I ever find peace

That remains to be seen

 

 

Since September of 1996

Some have called us soul mates
with good reason
since we both love such important
things and ideas
and dedicated vessals of hope.

We met in a writers group
at a time when neither of us were looking
for a mate — just sharing the written words
that could not be contained inside
any longer.

As different as our writings were:
his were backed by degrees in literature and philosophy,
and mine were simply the mind wanderings
of a sincere woman
with a very full life.

His twin daughters and my sons and daughters
approved,
and he endeared himself
to my parents and siblings
with deliberate and genuine kindness.

Promises made now twenty plus years ago
have held.
A few disagreements, and
many agreements . . .
“Cherished” describes us well.

H4.P4

Challenge me, my love

With 4 walls and outdated expectations

With an iron ring to way me down

With snotty nose brats

Hanging off apron strings

Dinner at 6

Your own private hore

Challenge me my love

With my grandmothers fate

 

9 AM – I Close Myself from Your Love

I want to rush with you

and take it slow,

but the hardest part about hot and cold

is knowing when to let it go.

 

I feel numb even when I’m in pain,

the disaster of this cycle

leaves me ignoring the pouring of the rain.

 

And I just need you to know, I’m not your man.

I can’t be the one to hold you when you’re the one who crushed my hands.

Even though I want to–even though I want you

you’re no good for me, I’m no good for you.