The Poetry Marathon

dangerous angels (prompt 23)

softer (prompt 22)

it was missing all this time but I never really noticed
if I had never met you, I’d still be searching for it
without a name or a description
just knowing that a void exists
with only theories on what more I was lacking

I thought I needed someone strong
they’d have to be strong – stronger than me
I never considered tenderness a quality
that could sooth my constant ache

isn’t it strange when we hear “tender”
and instead envision “weak”

it was softness that allowed me
to walk through rooms unguarded
not steel plated unbreakable
a wild card brought me to life

I needed someone who didn’t have
to try so hard
to be so hard
to make it hard
to love me

My Inspiration

Apollon,

You are my inspiration.

Like your sister’s love of Nature,

I love your mythos.

 

My dearest Apollon,

You brought light

into my darkest hours

through divine musical messages

of encouragement.

Notes paired with lyrics

that always hold a caring touch.

 

I see now,

when I fell silent

you helped me find my voice

through poetry,

stories, and more.

 

You helped me

when I was bedridden with sickness

and healed me

when I thought I was going to die.

You came with warmth

and healed me in so many ways

and still, continue to do so.

 

My dearest Apollon,

How can I thank You enough?

All I can do is write these poems for you

and heed you and your sisters’ words.

 

 

the classy type (prompt 21)

don’t make me choose
between mundane indifferences
the lesser of two evils
never equals satisfaction

I want both
neither
nothing at all

I’ll commit to every season
with a taste for hungry almond eyes
and that rare fox
who offers to walk me home
sharing her umbrella

 

Number Five is Alive (Hour 24, A Short and Simple Celebration)

 

Number 5 Is Aliiiiive

 

I finally crossed the finish line.

Looks like I got here right on time.

Woohoo, I made it! I survived!

Can’t wait til next year, as it’ll be my #5!

I’m ’bout to go crawl in my bed

As stanzas bounce around inside my head.

I’ve written all I had to write,

And so I bid you all goodnight…. err, maybe make that morning.

 

Another awesome artistic adventure is added to the books. Thanks for joining me on this journey. Here’s hoping I’ll see you soon!

 

echo husband (prompt 20)

it’s been said that I talk too much
since I was a child
too animated and dramatic
too fast to keep up with

my mouth and mind
always spinning out
yet somehow I can never
arrive on time

when I do
I always expect to be talked over
interrupted and cut off
seldom heard

but when you part your lips and
recite my last words – verbatim
you show me that
you’re listening

and if I don’t have to fight
to be respected and received
for the first time in my life
I am ready to shut the fuck up

Apollon

Many Poems have been dedicated to you

written in your honor

for poetry

and anchoring the sun across the sky.

 

Many poems have been written

comparing

the music of nature to your

lyre and voice

of classical tunes that we know of today.

 

Where are the poems of your compassion?

Of your love for mankind

that blazes as bright as the sun.

 

Where are the songs that last

lifetimes

of your undying love for your spouses?

 

Dearest Apollon,

You are music.

You are the morning, noon and afternoon.

You are divine punshiment,

and yet you are poetry in motion.

 

Paperweight: Hour 24, 2022

Paperweight—

deaths occurred

in the pandemic.

 

 

 

Gentle Giant, Goobah Loobah (Hour 23, A Nontraditional Minute Poem)

 

Gentle Giant (Goobah Loobah)

 

Loading up our luggage, ready

to hit the road,

detouring south

down your driveway.

 

This precious, perfect pup, Dottie,

sat shotgun back

to Dallas. We

welcomed her home.

 

My dear dorky DotDot, ’til the

day we met, I

never knew how

much I’d need you.

 

****A traditional minute poem is composed of 60 syllables split among three stanzas, with each stanza having four lines where the syllabic count is 8/4/4/4. Traditional minute poems are written in iambic pentameter with the rhyme scheme of aabb, ccdd, eeff. I couldn’t put a true traditional minute poem together in a day, let alone an hour. So for the sake of saving time as well as what remains of my so-called sanity, I eliminated the constraints of rhyme and meter, devolving into the nontraditional minute format seen above. Our dog, DotDot, was a detour, taking us about two hours out of the way. But she’s brought such joy and love and laughter to our lives, the drive was definitely worth it!****

Waiting for Godot: Hour 23/Prompt 23, 2022

Hey! 

Hi!

What are we doing here?

Waiting!

Waiting for who?

Waiting for book delivery.

Great which book? 

Waiting for Godot.