The Poetry Marathon

Hour 24–Goodnight

wayfaring friends

wayfaring strangers

fare thee well one and all

Poem for Hour Twenty-Four (24/24)

The day is done,

And we pass each other, like

So many birds trading schedules in the dark.

Hope plays upon our crests and roosts in our chests,

As we continue our lives in concentric circles from each other.

Owls nestle now their heads and red-winged blackbirds stir,

Dancing past hollow trees to congregate to meet another day.

 

As long as there is song in the air,

The still of calm will have foothold over us.

As long as bird breath comes out loud and strong into brightening air,

It means humanity gets one more day to try again,

And do it better.

“The New World”

 

 

No religion, no country, no territorial boundary,

This world can be a place like no other.

No rule parts to play,

No currencies, no need for a job.

We are not humans here,

We are like an orbiting species taking its role as it is.

Part of nature, equal to all the species yet to live.

What else can we give?

To a world who has it all?

God moves in mystery, they say.

But there’s no Gods here,

There’s no one for us to pray,

We all are preys,

Rotating towards who’s the next to eat,

And what would be our meal.

No police to keep it in order,

There isn’t any border.

This is our home,

The sky is the limit.

A kindred spirit bustling around,

And where we left to die

Will be our holy ground.

 

Text Prompt

Write a poem about a world that is not this one.

 

#POETRYMARATHON2023 #HOUR23 #24HRSCATEGORY

Hope (Poem 24)

A tree cut

A flower plucked

A seed sown

New life blooming soon

What goes

Comes back in some form or the other

Life goes on

World moves ahead

Nothing stop the flow of time

There’s only hope

That keeps us strong

Stones

Slip sliding over the texture

my fingers dive into

a pile of river smooth stones

shivers running through me

as their surface soothes me

no sharp edges to disturb

my sensitive nerves

closing my eyes

I feel calm

HR-11 The Path

Your journey is full of detours
Some bring unbelievable joy
Others bring unrelenting pain
Everyone’s journey is their own

No one has control over your journey
You make choices along the way
Sometimes fate decides your journey

Rachnoc Haiku 24 Hour 24

Sea weed man, guilty,
Slimes across the deck and hauls upright,
To do the right thing.

The tentacles wrap,
Tightly about the boat, Grown,
Squeeze writhing rapture.

He flops and plummets,
Ecosystem returning,
To the singing bed.

Rachnoc withdraws, pulse,
Follows his father beneath,
As the sailor weeps.

Hour 24- text prompt- hope

Ah the little things will kill you

And they say that’s due to hope

Hoping for improvement

Over a loveless gloat

Hope is heavy

And makes you light

Hope is solid

And made of light

Not liquid nor a gas

Hope is not something you can pass

Like a test by thirsty friend

Hope is sweetness

Condensed like milk

Until she knows she’s your one

Lethologica

What is it, what is it?
I know that I know this.
It’s like, that word that means
But it’s not that word.
Or maybe it’s more like
But again, not that word either.
What is it, what is it?
It’s there at the tip of my tongue.

I suppose I’ll think of it later.

Prompt 24