The Poetry Marathon

Animal Kingdom (Hour 14)

Their tales trail after me
since I was told of them
from when my head was at my knees.

Mbeku, the tortoise,
he is the chief con man.
He called his name, “Everybody”
so he could own and eat
the due meant for everyone
when animals went up to the sky for a meeting.
Each time my eyes spot a tortoise,
I keep wondering why he chose to be that crafty.
Yet, I have seen people like him in the human kingdom.

Okili, the bird,
she is the impatient mother bird
that won’t sit tight to build her nest
like Nzia, her peer, did.
Nzia’s nest will keep the rains out,
it will take the sun’s heat away.
But here is Okili’s nest,
it can’t hold off a drop of rain
or keep the sun’s heat out.
Yet, I have seen people like her in the human kingdom.

Nchi, the greater cane rat,
he is the one who asked the hand of
a king’s daughter in marriage.
He even contested with a human being
to compete for the beautiful bride.
If it wasn’t for folk tale or fiction,
how could anyone conceive a story like that?
Yet, I have seen people like him in the human kingdom.

Their tales trail after me
since I was told of them
from when my head was at my knees.

Our antagonist, the tortoise, comes to mind again.
All birds lent him wings so he could fly with them to the sky.
After he deceived all the birds, they took back their wings,
and he had to fall back to earth.
That, they said, is why the tortoise’s shell is cracked.
Such lofty tale!
Yet, I have seen people like that in the human kingdom.

Renewing Old Oak Tree (a triple haiku)

Twisted and knotted,

standing tall against the sky,

reaching toward the light.

 

Age paints its signs on

the gnarled canvas of branches,

time’s silent witness.

 

Despite years gone by,

green leaves bud and bloom each spring,

bringing youth again.

#14

Along winding road

lost myself to find my way

I see better days

American Fairy Tale

Now that we have our empire

at least half by the sweat of your brow

Your loved ones

Your babies

Dead in the ground

Freedom your birth right

Now we will strip away

your share of the prosperity

Your autonomy

Even your humanity

Now that we have our empire

We strip from all women

and especially little girls

The right to talk back

to a husband

to a boyfriend

to any man

The right to disobey or defy

your Father

your Brother

any Man

Your right to decide

who’s baby to have

Your right to decide

not to have your Dad

be your babie’s Dad

Now we decide who’s

babies you will have

Best act right

If you don’t want us

to make you pregnant again

Oh sorry I lied

It’s ok you’re used to that

Hour 13 (2022)

Free write

Your diagnosis
was a knife
to my heart.
But watching
as you gave up
was the twist.

tower (prompt 8)

the reinvention of self is the embodiment of the tower
a daring endeavor, the stripping of a life, fully shed

to intentionally renounce all that isn’t serving – deserving better
prospects drip honey gold incandescent, horizons beg, dawnings beckon
distantly, homelands insistent, roaring orange unfolding

it will all be brought to ground, leveled traceless in time’s embrasure
stories unfamiliar, free, released from finite memory

then embark on unmarked roads – absolved, asphalt optional
you’ll tear a hole straight through, intently escorted by desert skies

carry on, sinuously, led by intuition
the miracle of reinvention, of a self – embodying the tower

you will be brought to ground, safely traceless in time’s embrasure
claim sanctuary, become undone, adopt versions once discarded
forgotten, never known, the selves preserved, selves undefiled – waiting

will you be waiting too – occupying terminals,
holding up a mirror, without a sign, without a name

Marathon poem

In the garden

A Gardner plainted many different plants

So beautiful and colourful

And i walked in the garden

One plant srole my heart

It was not brighter than other

It was so dimmed and so charming

It was so humble

And i got to know the plant

And i found that it is her

 

Hour 14 (2022)- Family Laughs

My

Grandmom

Cooked dinner

For my parents one day

Unfortunately, the pork was not fully

Cooked, and to this day my dad insists that

She was trying to poison him. In truth,

It was simply an accident

She would never

Really do

That

Sort of

Thing, but it

Was a story that

Has given us many laughs

For a very long time

Even when she

Has Been Gone

For years.

Love

It.

No. 17: Scenes From Days Gone By

My babyhood firsts were noted by
My mother who wrote them down in a book
That I don't have access to
I can imagine they were first teeth,
First smile, first illness, first walk

My first remembrances don't go back that far
I have a vivid scene in my head of
My younger sister running, tripping, and falling
Head first on a meter, blood pouring from a pock-like wound
Her scream is what I remember the most

Such memories are part and parcel of family life
Me falling off my bike, fracturing my wrist
My oldest brother burning his feet in a ditch full of embers
The youngest brother throwing himself head long
Onto the concrete floor and not crying

One of my fondest memories is of me
Lying in bed at night, Mom turning the radio on
So I could listen to the likes of the Lone Ranger,
Amos and Andy, and Arthur Godfrey
Many of these shows migrated to television

I spent hours on Saturday mornings
Eating my breakfast of some cereal
And reading the cereal box's back and side panels
That's when there was something worth reading
On the box besides lists of mysterious ingredients

Hour 4 visual Title – Broken/cycle of Life

Broken/Cycle of Life (Art)

It’s all wrecked.

We once made beautiful music
but we didn’t take care of it.

Uncared for things
Slowly decay…rot…

Come back later.

Once revisited they
can sometimes be
turned into art
for a new eye
and a new age.

Grieve then renew!