The Poetry Marathon

Bookstore

Our regular table

in a used bookstore.

What a fine idea that they sell wine

along with books

and schedule poetry readings

and trivia nights.

What a blessing

that I know women

who love wine and books and trivia.

Women who drive downtown

once a week to find parking

and drink wine

and inhale the scent of books.

How lucky to know women

who prefer cozy places

away from the in crowd

who value conversation

and laughter

and friendship.

Women without agenda

or pretense.

The women who gather

at our regular table

in a used bookstore.

Hour 12 Sounds of his chuckle

His son recites a script as he records.

The hilarity behind his phone

full of life and merriment.

A time where he seem happy

glee in belly laugh recorded on his IG.

This derision such an illusion now

four months since he passed away.

A jollity worth remembering

I watch it over and over

never grow tired of his snigger

his jest reminds me of his days

in Junior High caught him in trouble

snickering still

I’ll always remember him being a hoot.

Moment and Momentum: Hour 3 – 2022

Art galleries filled with an afternoon sun,

too shimmery to be seen,

too daytime to be appreciated.

 

I wish, I could paint my insomnia,

and fit it into a dark frame

where it would die out of the habitat.

Like it murdered my sleep,

since these years.

 

I see similarities,

with the people

in the paintings

being fluent in contemplating.

 

Am I too caged in an invisible frame?

I ask myself.

 

Changing the palatte,

didn’t help.

How it would?

When I find comfort

in the dark.

 

 

Hour 12 First Drum Circle

Studied Shamans in anthropology in college

interested in learning and participating in a local drum circle

saw a flier for an evening  in a semi-private location

decided to come a little early to sit in and observe

followed my nose,

the incense burning Ponderosa Pine

cool air wafts around my sandals

great, I’ve literally got cold feet

footsteps echo,

still disturbed no one is here yet

I expected the “regulars” to be here in deep conversation

with me and my awkward, “hi,”

only two chairs set up

no blankets or pillows around

was I supposed to bring a yoga mat?

a cushion?

I wonder how we’ll see each other

beyond the turquoise vase with wild grass strands

the drum is formidable

it’s the only one

was I supposed to bring my own drum?

Finally, someone pokes his head in—

“Hello, drum circle is canceled tonight,”

Oh, that’s too bad.

(Text prompt #12) Coming together

We gather together
There is no color
There is no creed
There is just the human seed
A place of warmth and safety
A place where we are never hasty
The food is fresh
And we all mesh
There are children and mothers
Sisters and brothers
Old men and women
And plenty of persimmon
There is singing and dancing
It's all Life enhancing
I hope that you will join us
And learn not to fuss
Because Coming Together
Will make our hearts lighter than a feather

Coming out of the fields (12 of 12, half marathon)

I can’t imagine what we looked like to the tourists in their cars as they pass by.

To the other locals who knew the labor of picking coffee, they thought to themselves: better you than me.

We were dirty and tired, Tired, because we woke up at dawn to do this. Dirty, because I had dropped to my knees and picked from the low branches and sometimes the leaves got dusty and rubbed themselves clean against my sleeve and stomach cloth and shoulder cap. Frazzled also, because pulling a branch, another swung out and scraped a cheek and another had whipped through my hair. Rather than waste time untangling myself, I ripped the hair apart, leaving strands dangling from the beans.

Coming out of the fields, we still had baskets around our backs. That was the easiest way to carry them, still cinched around us. We carried our red hooks in our hands. They looked like walking canes, but they helped us to bring down tall branches. Their chains and triangle footholds rattles against the pavement. Dirty too, because we had sat on a dusty burlap bag or on the soil itself. Grimy patches on our backsides where we chose to lay in the shade to rest.

We came up the narrow road that ran alongside the field, and a car might slow down as if we were part of their sightseeing tour. Get a load of the locals, picking the Kona coffee that we’ll take load up on in our suitcases.

L.A.U.G.H.T.E.R

L et go of expectations
A llow your heart to rule
U under the colourful vanilla sky
G o on; wear what you like, be what you wish
H air, you let it down, babes
T he world will stop and take notice
E ngage in everything that will gladden and lighten your heart, so
R ise, be yourself, let your lips curve to burst forth into a cacophanous melody…

Christmas Cookies

Christmas cookies fresh out of a pan
Couldn’t be done without help from the clan
Topped with peppermint or strawberry jam
Makes me already think of Christmas Ham

The aunts and the cousins all around the table
Everyone helps who is able
They bring extra pans and staples too
It’s overwhelming, so much to do

Candy canes, thumbprints and and gingerbread men
Of any, of each I could eat ten
Cooperation between families only once per year
The magic of the season will end soon I fear

Decorating and dusting in such a rush
The little ones are sleeping, we must hush
The best conversations we have all year
Are around this table when Christmas is near

12. Gathering

They came in,
one by one,
well dressed,
in colors and glitter
with music and hugs.
Dirges and laments flowed,
eulogies were said.
It was a merry goodbye.

Absence

There was no sun nor hint of sun, though there was not a cloud in the sky. It was a clear day, and yet there seemed an intangible pall over the face of things,

he couldn’t  help to smile

• a subtle gloom that made the day dark, and that was due to the absence in which he had made a friend of sun. This fact did not worry the man. He was used to the lack of sun. It had been days since they last met he had seen the sun, and he knew that a few more days must pass before that cheerful smile would be seen again orb, due south, would just peep above the sky- line and dip immediately from view what was left a glass and few laughs