The Poetry Marathon

jonah7pm

I’ve left God on hold
for far too long-
started to pray-
only to tell him
that I’d be right back
and never came back

I wonder why it is-
he sticks around.
It’s not like I make him
a priority-
Except for the obvious

when things go wrong
when I need prayer
When there’s a death
or simply when I feel wronged

Why is that?

anytime I call out
he’s there
anytime that my life is in danger
He’s there
anytime I need something
you guessed it
He’s there

I’m sorry God
I’m a horrible human being
selfish
obnoxious
toxic
unworthy of love and respect
just-
Unworthy

I don’t understand how or why
you love me
how others love me
how they care for me
it annoys and angers me
sometimes

Do you do well to be so angry
my little crab?

what was that?
I swear I hear someone
saying I have no right to
be angry.
But that can’t be true

I’ll pay it no mind
It doesn’t matter
other people’s opinions-
of course, I do well
to be angry
It is my right

I’m just going to leave
it here and see what happens
I have my comfort and my needs
are met.
But something’s lacking

Do you do well to be angry
My little crab?
I’ll ask you once more
Answer me

I have a RIGHT to be angry
I turned my back and she
threw me out on the sidewalk
Who does that?

Elbow Macaroni

Remember Macaroni jewelry boxes?
The first one for Mother’s Day was always a surprise.
We need the elbow ones Ms. Merriwether said.
“Don’t waste this food. There are starving children everywhere.”
We need Elmers glue.
We need paint too.
A smoking box I think.
“We don’t smoke no reefers. I need to talk to your teacher.”
Mama what is reefer? Ms Merriwhether said Shugars I think?
Cigars? Oh your dad has an empty box or two that you may use.

#12 Cousins

Cousins

What have you gathered my children,
and where are you going?
In through the front door and
straight out the back.
gardens await you, while
the sea meets the shore.

Will you carry your gatherings across
generations? Place them on your mantle,
remembrance of times past, of laughter
merged with wind chimes, flying kites
on the beach and rolling down the hill
grass stains on knees, sandwiches fusing
sticky fingers, while brownies stain
lips and cheeks when eaten on the run.

Bodies age, but hearts remain connected.

The Reading Room

Some time ago the invitation came.

“I’m going to The Reading Room, are you game?”

I’m uncomfortable meeting humans face to face.

Can’t we do this at your place?

“What’s your worry? Your work is good,

I’ve read some and I want more.”

I won’t fit in. They are young and what’s that word…”woke”?

Read my work aloud? Yeah, that’s a joke.

My world is far removed from theirs, far from being “woke.”

“My friend, it will surprise you, just how little they know

about what it means to be truly “woke.”

A chance to hear your heart could be the start

that rescues them from their yoke.”

I’ve seen first-hand the hurt of peer pressure,

The desperate need to measure up.

To be needed and valued by anyone who feeds their ego.

If you promise to call me out on that, I’ll go.

After some time, I went along.

First, we listened to a writer’s song, and then

He followed that with what he penned.

My heart was stirred and drawn to learn

What was this passion? What made them yearn.

To have their words heard.

Was it not enough to write to you?

One Poet more, and then two

Shared their words in voice and page.

Many knew of what they spoke;

Who knows, perhaps there’s more to being woke.

Braved the night and soon I spoke,

My words to share.

No one laughed, snickered, or stared.

They asked for more and so I read.

I gathered with friends and got out of my head.

Protected: Hour 5: glowing iridescent

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Password:

You bring to mind – Half Marathon Poem #12

You bring to mind

the flowers that blossom
so rarely, but
thrive in the desert

Day to day
week to week
they grow,
low to the ground
thorny and unnoticed

but when the rains come

they bloom, grow,
stand tall and proud

a feast of color
vibrant and alive
earth’s dull ochre
covered in a gown of life

so it is when I
see you, being loved
being cherished for the
treasure and gift
that you are

your smile like desert sun
reflecting from a piece of
crystal, blinding and beautiful

you deserve so much more
than you have been given
and the world is better
when you feel joy

Smart

How do you mr Chameleon?
With envy I’m green
With jealous I’m grey
With admiration I’m…

So how many suits do you have Sir?
Your epidermis is loaded
Your step, is it by design or by default?
You tongue roughly how long?
Your eyes 360
Zoom in zoom out
Your simplicity is contrary to wallet size

I zoomed in on you
I saw you blend with your environment
In seconds
I saw you aim for prey
Your precision; sniper
Your strike-rate; top cricketer
Your multiplexed eyes;photo journalist
The spring in your tongue; fighter jet eject parachute

You don’t have speed but you fast
You don’t show off but you rich
You have every shade of colour
You mix&match at will
You eat at will
I saw you fight a snake one day;
Your bravery
Your witty
Your intelligence
Second to none

Mr Chameleon
I salute you
What you lack in size
You have in tools
Your smartness;your strength
Long live Sir
Can I borrow a suit for my wedding day Sir.

Subbing in America through Haiku: Hour 13

Boys and girls on the playground flitting from one group to another like busy working bees. The sound of gravel punctuates their movement like a garbled staccato measure and kicks up the dry smell of dirt. Eager hands dig up mounds of grass and cup them gingerly as they run to the others and plant them in a garden co-op: a well-oiled machine. The transplants wilt quickly.

assembly line work

synchronizing under boughs

of the pin oak tree

Hour twelve: we are gathering

tiny heart beats
madly excitedly
they’ve given me
the instructions
which float like strips
of rainbow from
my jaw
– as you proceed
they’ll send you
more and more
to carry
be willing
you can do it

with me are beating
thousands and thousands
of tiny hearts
as we proceed
from the south east
to the south west
the wind our only master
guide, and compass

it’ll happen, they said
something about
the point of saturation
but it was too
technical to make sense
my companions were getting
excited as we neared
a tall mountain range
we couldn’t rise
a gathering of clouds
we hit it
we burst, overwhelmed
they it rained 40 days
and 40 nights
i too was lost
in ancient waters
before ascending
to a new cycle
the birth
of a new gathering

The dulling of the card sharps

The Wednesday night crowd
around the big table
center of the brewery beer hall
was middle-aged men
boisterously playing cards
trash-talking
howling with delight at
winning hands
or someone missing a bet, bid
the beer, the game
was all flowing
we were living
semi-vicariously
two-tables away

As we got up to leave
I passed the big table just as a
hand was being
closed out
another dealt
curious as to what variant
five-card
seven-card
Texas hold-on…..

My companion and I
did a double take at the cards
being dealt
this was no stud game
no croupier riding herd on this
rousing game of
Point Salad
noted, per the game website
as a game where players
‘Collect groupings of fruits
and vegetables – with
loads of ways
to score points’

Head-scratching, we left
pondering
what we had seen
concluding
with some logic that
considering the demographic
its not a huge step
from discussing dietary
roughage
to a little rough-and-tumble
gambling with it.

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2022
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd