The Poetry Marathon

Hour 23, Poem 29

Once there was a crow
That wanted to touch the sun
To fly higher and higher
To where there was no one
And so he tried day in day out
To fly with all he had
But in the end he was still here
Away from sun and very sad
One day the wind and the cloud
Seeing his tireless aim
Asked him about it and
“I will touch the sun” Was his claim
Impressed with the tiny crow
And his dare to dream
They offered to help him
To atleast reach the sunbeam
And as the cloud carried the crow
And wind pushed them ahead
They finally reached near sun
Where the sky was red
Bidding farewell to his friends
The crow hailed a sunbeam and took it to ride
Towards the sun with all his might and
Finally touched it with his wings and his eyes were bright.
The crow got his heartfelt wish
And you could too
With friends, effort and hard work
Nothing is impossible to do.

Hour11

A new start… Autumn is here!

And I enjoy George Enescu festival’s

music while drinking a hot coffee.

I’ve got everything…except you, my love!

Hour 18 – Toys in the Attic

In the attic there is a door
old and wooden
with cracks and gaps
leave alone cautioned the woman

But curious minds need to explore
wondering what thing must be avoided
listening with ear to the door
screams and scratches could be heard

Bolting away from that place
mind wandering about the things
that may be murdering in that space
quickly departing down the stairs

Days went by and waiting no more
returned to the attic
with the old wooden door
trembling hands upon the handle

With door opened just a sliver
screams and scratches and flashing lights
the curious child started to shiver
words of the woman resounded

A year passed and the child grew older
remembered the attic with the old wooden door
returned to that space now he was bolder
and threw open the door with bat in hand

Covered in dust he found the culprit
an old wooden chair rocking against a child’s toy
blown by breeze flying through the attic
disturbing the treasures saved for the boy

23~22

what can be said

about pizza

that hasn’t been

said before?

i have to fight

my cats

if I want some

else they dump it

on my floor

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1am. Poem 23 New World (a senrua)

1am. Poem 23

 

New World (a senrua)

A world safe and free
where kids don’t get killed at school.
A world with no guns. 

Bread

Everything can mean anything
And nothing can be something too
everything has been said before
you never have to think again
Premade, prepackaged
pull request
10 random words:

• Butterscotch
• Cloister
• Discomfit
• Exuberant
• Fervent
• Glisten
• Indigo
• Jovial
• Kaleidoscope
• Leviathan
• Mongoose

Hour 9 : Journeying

Not This One

Age, specifically mine, has begun to define me.
I think of “The Twilight Zone” imagining a world
But not this one.

I think of a world without humans.
After all, we’ve already had our shot.
A world free of abuse, corruption and assholes.

Well, only literal assholes will be allowed.
Actually, if you make exceptions for wasps and feces-throwing primates, all assholes will be welcomed!
Maybe my imagined world will have time for sleep,
Because, you know, not this one.

Not at my age.
Not this one.

Hour Twenty-three: No return

Domes, unicycles, key rings, arenas,

only infinite perfection in this circular space,

no hard angles, sharp edges, jagged saws,

in the protected lands.

 

Soft voices and hands,

plump hens and heiresses,

rounding the hill tops to home,

a mounded cupola, an igloo, a yurt,

no plaits but curls.

waves, arches, crowns,

all year round,

roundabouts full of beetles,

scarab rings and necklaces

they wear with semi circle smiles.

 

Flight patterns and arguments,

discoid, rings and hoops,

u-turns atop u-turns,

the land of no return orbits

planets, looping stars and suns,

gas balls infernal, eternal, annular

and endlessly unfree.