The Poetry Marathon

Emotion Eggs (hour 21)

In a clear, small caddy

emotion eggs they sit

each one makes the eater feel

the feeling face on it.

 

Should I choose the first one,

frazzled, scrambled in both ends

second, worried, like I get

when itchy rash won’t mend.

 

Third, I like the very most

happy, sun side up

next one, scared eyes wide

must be jalapeños inside

I dare not touch that pup.

 

The back row, I can imagine now

sad, shocked and sick, and how

that one’s uncooked, and pallid

will never in mouth be swallowed.

 

The very last emotion, angering

this one’s blown out, yolk strings dangling

need this one when phone is ringing

unknown call, confront some spamming.

 

I’d love to share emotion eggs

they may just come in handy

love and peace omelettes I give the world

‘til together it’s just dandy.

 

– Sandra Johnson, June 26, 2022

 

Photo credit: Tengyart on Unsplash

 

 

Stand Up

Your voice is shaking
Quivering lips
In want to say something
But maintaining silence
You watch the show
As it unfolds
A story to gather
Enough info
To make decisions
Based on yourself
Not in line with beliefs
Held deep within your hearts.
Others opened their eyes
And spoke on behalf
And recognized the truth
When they told on themselves
Yet none reach out.
No one says a word
Or utters a sound
Just watching on the sidelines
On the bleachers
While traitors hide beneath
Throwing stones and
Hiding hands.
Who would stand for you
If you were me?
I’m an army of one
Against a battle on four fronts
Taking the blows
Turning my cheek to face one
To get bludgeoned by another
As I fight back
On my own
And stand up for myself.
An army of one, or so I thought
But a legion at my side
A Divine team I owe my life
And God taking the front
My ancestors at my back
Surrounded by angels and guides
With a butterfly resting upon my shoulder.
I stand up for truth
So what will you do?

I have failed my quest

Here will mark my end
for I cannot keep going
my feet are far too weary
and my bones feel worn

I cannot continue on
for I have failed my quest
and my journey is meaningless
it is here that my resolve fails

To continue would be folly
you do not know what you ask
I have nothing left to offer
surely there are others better suited

So then let me return
that I may again raise my sword
let my feet be immovable
this time I will not fail

Text Prompt -Poem 21 The Umbrella

The umbrella

the pride colours

unity of sexuality

brings people together

irrespective of race

used on charity walks

Can’t do without one on a rainy day

Hour 17 (2022)

a hot date
ends with a kiss
dragon’s breath

Hush

They have rage slings
Hurling shots of saliva and insults
Whirling unto each other.
Fingers in faces
Tense bodies threatening to push away
Barely restraining from the release of a shove at the minimum.

It used to be them, together
Over everything
Territory in the kitchen
Bathroom times
Schedules
God damn schedule
And whose schedule is most important.

Rage filled people slip
From human to beast
Rationale to releasing and thrashing
Eventually they stop caring
Who is there
Who hears this
What size are their ears and hearts?

You try tossing them outside.
Far more petulant than the dog
They refuses
Bolted down to their space
Their point.

You end up moving
Everyone else.
Evicted from your own home
Searching for peace and quiet
On a city street
Because grownups won’t hush.

Poem 16: Oh yes -in glorious, vivid detail…

I know you worry that love never lasts,
With time stirring passions may fade.
But, my dear, I most assuredly promise you,
In doubtful waters, my love will not wade.

The passing years will steal our youth,
And should your dear heart fail,
Will I remember your precious face?

Vincent

The sunlight is warm again
And there is colour in the world,
A welcome and a welcome back,
We see the same strange earth anew.
The sky is curling, crystal blue,
The almond trees in bloom
And I will paint again,
Small hope,
For you, for you, for you.

Piano Death- Hr. 9

Sad really, is it not
The piano wasting away
Thrown away so carelessly
Oh what music could come from it

Now it’s just a shell of what it was
What it could’ve been
Grand in its day, but left alone
Rotting, unspeakably sad

No more playing to be done
No music to be heard
Serving no purpose, no joy
Because of such a careless act

Rekindling (Hour 17, A Haiku)

 

Rekindling

 

Evil eyes raged red

igniting ancient ashes,

turning them to dust.

 

****A haiku is a Japanese poem composed of three lines with a syllabic count of 5/7/5. Traditional haiku usually have a theme focused around nature.****