The Poetry Marathon

Cheers

When he broke up
Tears accompanied
Looking forward to
many dreams Faded
Life is left as the waste paper
How many anxiety nights have deprived outof sleep
Midas touch standing in front of the sill
The pain of being left like a sour grapefruit
Unless the future stands as a remainder
Suffering from not being able to ride the winning horse
The context of increasing age
The rest of the loneliness in the damaged room
No one can be greet him with love
If all dreams are fading as rainbow
The future remains questionable.
Suddenly
Twenty-five years later
Good-fortune knocking on the door
You won, you got the job
Give your seller a new sari as a gift

Tears well up in dry eyes
Happiness is like a surging wave
dancing with twinkling stars
Looking for an invisible mom
To share this joy.

22~12

we huddle

we friends

around

her

as she opens

her necklace 

and scatters

his ashes

in the wind

2022 Poem Ten

CW: Eugenics, June 2022 current events but not named specifically

 

Catching up on the news means:

relearning that justice doesn’t exist

and that people don’t learn.

I was born to be:

a canary in a coal mine;

the PSA on who you aren’t supposed to be;

a danger to be warned about.

I exist so you have ghost stories. A boogeyman.

Our screams covered by the sounds of the ocean

as we scream from our shipwreck.

 

You cannot get your rights without our help so do not leave us behind.

18. Moment of Joy

She shouted,
screamed,
cried,
for help,
from this trap.
She is trapped
in a moment of joy,
she wished it to last
forever,
forevers are dangerous.
Her moment of joy
is turning into
moment pain
and she’ll soon
hate it,
as boredom starts to work.
Poor one,
all she wanted was to be happy
forever,
little did she know
forevers are dangerous.

HOUR EIGHTEEN ~ Georgia O’Keefe’s Extremely Edible Flowers

GEORGIA O’KEEFE’S EXTREMELY EDIBLE FLOWERS

 

“I want a whole garden of the flower that you are,”

that was what I wanted to tell you.

I don’t remember what I really said,

something about Van Gogh or Monet

and nearsightedness, if I had to guess.

 

we stood on every side of the barn, dwarfed,

engulfed by reproductions of famous artwork.

we hadn’t planned to come here, but we saw

the installation as we were driving past and thought,

heck, why not. We do love art.

 

the wind cuts and you pull me close for just a moment.

there’s ice on the puddles and I crack it with careful delight.

I tell you that I always think of creme brulee and Amelie,

which is one of my favorite movies,

if only because it saves me a lot of time and explanations.

 

months later even summer can’t match the warmth

of standing at your side and losing my sense of scale.

flowers bloom on my palette as I try to name these feelings.

 

maybe there’s more to this than Georgia O’Keefe’s extremely edible flowers

or the way the sunlight catches the red and silver strands around your smile

 

we’re breaking apart any ordinariness with just a gaze that we share silently

redefining our worlds again in these mirroring moments of contentedness

 

Masks for two

Facemasks at two am

Snorts of laughter

Due to farts

Joyful tears do impart

22~11

so many tears

rolling down my face

wiggly belly gyrating

as i lie on the floor

after my sister

sipping sweetly

turned towards me

drink straw up her nose

surprising us both!

Ode to Joy (hour 18)

Joy, even in fear and pain

infected toe, with pus and stain

out a week to heal and drain

a glimpse of retirement

doing whatever the week will bring.

 

Happiness, despite one oozing digit

is easy when sleep-in days are in it

sitting, reading, playing games

keeping company with my canines

and lizards, jumping in the vines.

 

Even podiatrist, he could mend

my tolerance for sharps, he did extend

a kindly clerk, became my friend

her prayers brought panic to an end.

 

Joy, a moment it did seem

but while it lasted, a real-life dream

then poetry comes, and extends the stream

continuing my jubilee thru workweek’s regime.

 

– Sandra Johnson, June 26, 2022

 

 

 

 

Pit and Long Boar (hour 19)

Our plan, born of true heinous,

Oh, my canine friends of nourishment deprived.

Yet tonight they feast on standing pig,

Such pleasant fare to absorb.

 

Within a tavern’s hospitality,

Hogs adore to imbibe,

Pre-marinated and duly prepped,

Oh, my canine friends of nourishment deprived.

 

Ambiance imperative to set the mood,

A ramshackle hovel dutifully disguised,

A table set with finery, nothing crude,

Oh, my canine friends of nourishment deprived.

 

Docile and ready they’d await their company,

Savouring the smell of the meal to arrive,

For on temptations arm, he will be led

Oh, my canine friends of nourishment deprived.

 

Master and pet, we must be prepared,

The hour draws sundry and nye,

Soon the punters will traverse a yonder,

Day’s turmoil and beverage deprived.

 

Man’s best friend finds true gallery,

In this repurposed livery, improvised,

As such we wait, for customers true fate,

And as always…

 

Oh, my canine friends of nourishment deprived.

Duality, Hour Eighteen

Duality

Sadness and joy often inhabit
the same moment, a counter balance.

I had just finalized my divorce
and moved into a home of my own,
signing the papers for the house
on my daughter’s fifteenth birthday.

I could not celebrate her birth,
nor mourn the death of a marriage,
as the children would be away with their father
for the first time since the divorce.

Melancholy welled up as I sat
in my nearly empty home
on the futon that was
then my only furniture.

Sensing my sadness,
my dog Ginger cuddled up on my left,
and Black Magic, the cat,
on my right.

Both gazed upward at my face
with twin expressions that said
“Don’t worry, it’ll be alright,”
and suddenly,
inexplicably, it was.