The Poetry Marathon

Missing6am

Out the backdoor I go
through the back yard
and around the bend
in the field

step over the junker cars
that mark the spot and watch
out for that gopher hole
It wouldn’t do to break my
leg

I can feel the sun on my face
and I lazily walk through the
field
Today is a gorgeous day
the air is crisp
the colors a set fire of
reds and golds

I have a purpose for being
out here-

There it is!!

Being careful, I step to the edge.
Down below is the creek
I can see the bench is brand-new
someone must have rebuilt it
I haven’t been here for years

This was the place that I
always ran to-
when things were rough
when I needed a friend and where
things always ALWAYS made sense

making my way down, I relax with
the sound of rushing water
mixing with the sounds of birds,
a distant dog barking
and once more I am transported
back to when I was 24

And said goodbye for the final time
it broke my heart to leave you behind
but I couldn’t pack you up and transport
you- though I wanted to

Well I’m all grown up now and
I’m sure that you can still help
somwhow
I have missed you

Hour 23 – Wonderland

Wonderland

There is a place where flowers sing
Cards are guards to Queen and King
Turtles tell a tale of woe
And poetry is status quo

Rocking horses fly with wings
Eggs can do a back handspring
Caterpillars blithely smoke
Grinning cats tell arcane jokes

Cooks spread pepper everywhere
A tea party is a rude affair
Mushrooms make you short or tall
And sense – why there is none at all!

Hour13

Hush!

 

Silence can be so deafening

and so overwhelming…

I hope that you do not want us to

listen to the symphony of silence!!!

Silent Pizza [Hour 22]

Mexico makes Pizza too.

But . . .

Taco bell’s Mexican Pizza

Is not authentic Mexican Pizza

Actually Pizza in Mexico

Is not authentic.

It is just a carbon copy

Of another carbon copy

That copied it from Italia.

But there is chile jalapeno

Or chorizo as a topping

The crust is kinda thin

Like a cocky flour tortilla,

Kinda hard like a soft chip.

But instead of pepperoni

They use guinis or weenies

thin slim hot dog slices.

an ooze of mozzarella

poured on top of it.

Mexican pizza is

A silent pizza.

Speaking of silence,

What’s up with this food

that they feed us and sell us,

Is it just in America?

What’s up with the medicine

What’s up with the medical field,

Is it just me, or have they killed

More people than they healed.

Everything is killing us.

Look at what theyre filling us with

I never got the vaccine,

My mother did,

Right after the shot,

her face drooped from one side,

her feet got swollen

And she started having heart problems.

I called the hospital

where they gave her the shot,

Told them her symptoms,

And they said it was fine.

3 months later

she died

Heart attack.

Why are we

So scared to speak?

Why dont i hear

any one here

Speak of the real

Speak of the real.

Why have the gift

And waste it on

Shit we could have

Done at home.

For a bunch of poets,

Sometimes, we dont really say much

Silent,

as a slice of

Mexican pizza.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

⁵

Now you know (Prompt 22)

Somewhere around A.D. 995
Italian city of Naples
the first one showed up
quickly becoming a favorite stop
especially after a long week
pressing olives
maintaining gladiator gear

From this single shop a dietary
staple came to life
simple, ancient concoctions
combinations of all sorts
bringing social
disagreement, disaffection
fourteen-hundred years before
pineapple showed up
becoming integral to
local culture, then spreading

The simple pizza
Neapolitans didn’t argue
crust height, depth
cuts made as squares or
triangles
though they each knew their
favorite spots, toppings
knew the dish was theirs
theirs alone
wanted the world to know
once people began
making it at home
sans checkered togas

As the famed troubadour
Billus Joelius wrote
‘Quando vis Faciam in
occursum adventus tui
In nostro Italico Restaurant’

And there – that is something
you learned today

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2023
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

Hour 23: Sonnet

How did I ever get so blessed to have you,

I must be highly favored and covered in grace,

Despite life’s despair, and what you’ve been through,

You never seem to break,

 

Strongest person I know,

No one could ever take your place,

I thank God for giving you the timer to watch me grow,

It’s something about your warm embrace,

 

My biggest support, even when everyone else leaves,

Can’t thank you enough,

For always believing in me,

Simply being my mom; unconditional love,

 

Hope you understand how much you really mean to us,

And I will always love you very much.

Prompt #23

On the third planet from a different sun,

people don’t speak a word. Instead,

hearts are opened by just a glance,

and sadness is merely a speculation.

 

I see this place in dreams that

come on those restless nights when

love alludes me and words fail

to convey their message of hope.

 

And sometimes when I wake up I

can’t immediately remember which

world is this one until you ask me

why I’m quiet.

 

 

Prompt Twenty-three – The Caveman Calls

Prompt Twenty-three – Text Prompt

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

 

The Caveman Calls

 

The cavemen had it good.

They foraged for food,

Collected their wood,

and relied on their mood.

 

They drew on their cave wall,

Which was really their rave hall.

Hunted when the crave calls.

Never needed to shave at all.

 

No roads, no cars, no potholes

No pressure, no need for career goals

No gas bills, no meters, no carbon coals

No voting, no lobbying, no tax polls.

 

No banks, no cards, no hefty loans

No wars, no blitz, no spyware drones

No pollution or low emission zones

No candy crush on mobile phones.

 

That’s the life for us I guess.

We don’t need so much, a lot lot less

Some basic shoes, a basic dress

I’m heading there. Coming? Yes?

Stolen Heart – Hour Twenty-Three

Stolen Heart

I have stolen the heart there within you
You were likely saving it for somebody better
Forgive me, but I do not regret it
It is something I hold very dear
And I do not plan on returning

Hour 10: What is Love?

How to define it when it changes every second?

I see love in shapes,

I see in circles,

squares,

rectangles.

 

For me, heart isnt the only symbol of love,

what if its a flower with temporary petals?

 

I see love in differences,

that brings us closer,

that educates us,

 

I see love in rhythms,

the breaths,

the beats,

the footsteps.

 

I see love in patterns,

solids,

floral,

monchorme,

 

 

I see love in everything,

everywhere,

anywhere,

nowhere,

nothing.