The Poetry Marathon

(Hour 22) 19.30pm-20.30pm. TEXT PROMPT: tenderness

tenderness

Stella and Ryan keep bickering
About petrol, spark plugs, tires
And anything else they feel like.
Constant since they “re-found” me
Not that I was ever lost. I always knew.
Sometimes wish I was still underwater.
Better than air pods deep pools.
We’re crawling through some long
Deserted back streets, dodgy houses
Cars on blocks and yards full of junk
When suddenly I see them. Two kids.
Girl and boy. Younger than me. Hiding.
Or trying too. Perhaps hoping to be seen.
Or saved. Stop! I scream. And to all
Our surprises we do. I’ve got the door
Half open when Ryan grabs my arm.
Whatcha doing buddy? I saw two kids.
They need our help. You sure? It could be/
But he doesn’t finish his sentence.
It’s not. How do you know, Stella joins in.
I just do. Trust me. I know without knowing
How I gotta approach them like they’re
Skittish colts. Cos they really are.
They want to be friends. They just don’t
Know how right now. I don’t speak.
Neither do they. I smile. The girl sort of.
The boy hides behind her. I don’t think
They’re related. They’re just clinging.
To whoever. I hold out a hand. Wait.

Eventually.                       She takes it.

Rakkhosh (Demon)

 

 

It was said that the village had to feed him
Everyday, bringing food by the cartload

Or else, he would grab a villager and kill,
And that would be his dinner!

Fear and despair raged in the vicinity
And no one was able to do anything,

Until a wise old sage appeared one day.
He asked the villagers to gather at dawn

When the demon was asleep,
And prepare a bonfire. They did as he asked.

Soon flames leapt up to the sky, crackling with dried wood and a roaring wind;

And the demon, getting up lazily, confused,
Walked to the open field to see.

The sage wasted no time in getting his plan
Together. Getting the bull, a villager suddenly

Charged at it, waving a red flag,
Terrified, enraged, the bull ran straight into

The demon standing behind the man who had swerved away in time….

The demon crashed down the hill in a
Mighty fall, and was never heard if again!

Smeetha, responding to prompt 17.

Bird’s Eye-view

bird’s eye- view

How insignificant these tiny things
Depending on wheels,
Or on metal wings.

Moving along pre-set ways
Unable to grasp, to understand
The immensity of the sky.

I ride an updraft, glide on high
Spot with my stereoscopic eye
A red car stopped beside the freeway.

Maybe the driver has slowed his pace
To take in the beauty of nature’s grace
Of the greensward or the trees.

I can move any which way
In the sky, my 3D space,
The sun on my feathers
The wind in my face
And so..
I pity the earth-bound human race.

,

Hour 20

Let’s have
breakfast in bed.
And maybe later
for second breakfast
we’ll actually make
some food.

Hour 14

Hour 14

Not quite a fairy tale
or a western
or a story set in stone
this was shared words

Not a western
but tales set in an unknown lake
this was shared words
legends spoken around a fire

Tales set on an unknown lake
loon lake we called it
legends spoken around the fire
never written down

Loon lake
not stories set in stone
never written down
not quite a fairy tale

2022 Poem Fourteen

Untitled

 

I broke my own heart to love you.

Attempted to make a collage of a new heart.

One part me to three parts who I think you want me to be.

Secure all the pieces together with glue and tape and hope.

Every ounce of trust I had in you when I handed you my creation

splinters when I see myself in your trashcan.

Hour 22

I find myself in a ballroom,
baroque ornaments decorate the ceiling.
Twirl like royalty and spin until the room
turns into a maze
turns into a forest
turns into an open field.

Here the ocean spreads,
as mountainous waves sprout from a single seedling,
so do I, in passing swells, near the desert.

I am the trees that grow into each other,
we embrace ourselves.

And as the music crescendos,
so do our tender heartbeats.
They do not stop beating
despite the countering actions,
the voices that tell us to stop trying.

See the leaves whirl, autumn-red,
kindle a fire, it reaches to the heavens.
Now it is time to rest,
quietly.

Tenderness (Hour 22)

It’s baffling to watch-

the soft side of a ferocious beast

an uncompromising predator

or an evil dictator.

 

To watch a lioness lick her young to dry,

let it prance and bite her ear,

pick it up gently with her mouth

and gently carry it away to safety

 

Or to watch the mother croc

pick up her hatchlings in her whale of a mouth,

not crushing any by the same jaws

that have pulverized many a hapless victim.

 

Or to watch a confessed killer

tell his son bedtime stories, tuck him into bed,

switch off the lights, pause for a moment

to plant a loving kiss on his forehead.

It is a baffling show of tenderness to behold

 

22. Woman

The multitasker,
graceful, grateful
and gracious.
Devoted, tolerant
and hardworking.
a teacher, a nurse,
a chef, a cleaner.
A million titles,
a million roles,
that you give
and shame her
for not being
a robot, or a goddess,
a mythical being,
with superpowers,
for being a human.
Its not a compliment,
but a trap,
a well crafted prison.

I don’t want to be
a goddess with twenty arms,
let me be a human
with two.

Hour 22 – Emergent – Image Prompt

Emergent

The road less traveled is far more bumpy
With less care put in to maintain
In parts the road is overgrown
In others it fades only to reappear again
Where you least expect it

The swamps were a surprise
The trees a spindled, branches wide
The land that’s visible eroded
Perhaps the travel was unwise
But as I pulled off to the side
I found I could not regret it.

The swamp birds sang
The land teemed with life
The road was unkempt
Unmanaged it jackknifed
And twisted end to end
Up toward higher ground
But I stopped to look around

And found the world emergent
Upon the path less urgent