The Poetry Marathon

Humanity

It’s in our nature
to search for people
quite like us
Isn’t it?
quite naturally
or subconsciously
We seek them out actively
finding our comfort zones
Though with an expanding world
We’ve expanded our circles
Finding similarities
Finding differences
Adapting, adjusting
but still,
But we tend to gather in flocks
like birds of a feather!
So, this means that in all gatherings,
there’s going to be a majority
and a minority
How the majority deals
with the minority
is the story
of every gathering
of every cluster
of this whole world
we call ‘Humanity’!

Prompt Twelve (last poem for me in the half marathon)

Hour #12–Haiku

Glistening dewdrops

Glide along slender green leaves

Wet grass in morning

Gatherings

I’m a loner, more comfortable in my own space
than with others.
I’d rather stay home with a book or movie than
go out at night with a group.

The pandemic reinforced
my introvert ways
made me want to stay home
even more. It was safer.

But recently I realized
I also long for contact and shared experiences.
And sometimes it is good to gather.
Sometimes human laughter and storytelling
is healing.
Sometimes a hug or a smile
is energizing.

So moving forward I plan to mix
alone time with
gathering time
and weave a comfortable cloth
from the two extremes
that works just for me.

May Mother be a Celebration

“No one reads hardback anymore,” he said,
sunflower glasses perched on a perfect nose.

“Beats knitting,” I replied, his beach bag brimming
with yarn and cheddar cheese crackers.

“Clearing my mother’s space,”
sadness. A splash of mud.
“Just finishing.”

Wine glasses.
A mile of thick threads
crash

at last;
the pull of pavement
buckling pull of lust.

Nail broken on oak headboards,
my satchel by the door.

No one reads hardback anymore.

No. Never.

Gatherings / Prompt #12

Whether I was a child or the sage adult I grew to be,
summer always brought
summer camp with hikes, dances, competitions, long evenings of songs and secrets 
daily bus rides with bumps and jolts and everyone piling on then scrambling off
ball games with hot dogs, a trusted mitt nearby for that foul ball, waves among the crowd

Bustling and jostling against others were part of life.
Now I cherish calm rituals with a few loved ones, 
even as we slowly emerge from behind our masks.
I have changed, content with my smaller yet deeper world
still connected with others when I see them with softer eyes. 

Summer is beautiful, but it has transformed for me.

It’s a new venture

Now this time

The verse is done

With it’s pride

As a new venture.

The popular canvas

To sketch it’s heart

With lovely hub

For a new art.

There are so many colours

There are so many words

By using all

A new ray of portrait is visualised.

As Above, So Below

But the filthy open secret about life is that it goes on.
An impartial, material universe that still has a sense of irony
so strong that it might let the eternal recurrence of this life
ooze into the next.
As above, so below,
and a sneer from whatever gods shuffle through the stardust.

Subbing in America through Haiku: Hour 12

water from fountain

served in paper cup — like ice

tumbling over rocks

Haw-Haw-Hee

Prompt For Hour Eleven Write a poem about laughter without ever using the words, laugh, laughter, or giggle.

Hope of every clown you see,

Wish of every mime.

Is the hearty haw, haw, hee!