The Poetry Marathon

Catchphrase

Once upon a winter time,
Quite some time ago,
In a very northern cabin
Blanketed by snow
Lived a kind old gentleman
And his kind old wife.
Together they had made
A very kind old life.
He had the herd of reindeer,
He’d befriended the elves,
They’d got to grips with filing
To make the lists themselves.
But still the old chap had a doubt
‘I think I need a sign…
Something of a catchphrase, dear.
Something that’s just mine’.
He stood stiffly in the room
All Autumn, trying to think.
‘I’ve failed my dear, I’ve Santa’s block
Our whole plan’s on the brink.’
‘Oh pooh!’ said she, ‘you kind old fool.
You don’t need a motto,
Your very smile has bags of style!
They’ll love it in the grotto’.
Then came the day, the trip all planned
Almost time for take off
He looked at her and beamed and beamed
With joy at such a send-off.
Once upon a winter time,
Quite some time ago,
As the sleigh rose to the stars
They all heard ‘Ho Ho Ho!’

A Congregation-Prompt#12

A Congregation

 

We gather together to worship the Lord

We are His body bought with His sacrifice

We worship Him with hymns and praise music

We worship Him with prayer.

 

We are brothers and sisters in Christ

We are people from all walks of life

We are diverse but united in our love for Him

We gather in fellowship with each other

 

We gather in communion

We gather at weddings

We gather at funerals

We gather in love for each other

 

We would not want it any other way

 

Prompt Twelve: There’s A Gathering

There’s A Gathering

 

There must be a place;

Above or not . . .

Where they gather.

The ones who left us.

Some we say . . .

“Too Soon”…

And some we say,

“had a long life.”

Are they here?

I’ve seen them . . .

After they’ve crossed.

Rhyme Reboot

Impatient – I just want it now
But teach myself to wait somehow
To wait but not procrastinate
It’s a tough row to hoe, you know

So let words proliferate
And those sounds alliterate
Do not even hesitate
So you’re never ever late

Hour 11 (2022)

A swallowed smile.
A tickle in my throat.
A hiccup in my chest.
A trampoline in my belly.
All the ways
you make me feel silly
and young
and alive.

A Revenge 500 Years in the Making, Hour Twelve

I, Phylippa, have been sold.

I have been bought, bride-price levied,

and dressed for my husband.

I have been poked and prodded from the herd,

and chosen worthy of the laird.

I, Phylippa, have been used.

My mother’s voice, veiled head bowed,

whispering, “Don’t be a burden, accept.”

Accept that you were chosen,

accept your role and be silent.

I, Phylippa, have been broken.

My lip split at a hard-ringed hand,

coarse laughter at my wit,

His angry eyes as blood welled in my mouth.

I would not stay silent.

I would not accept.

I, Phylippa, have been taking what’s mine.

I bit his throat. I tore his eyes.

I took his men and his brides.

I will not accept, I will ride and fight.

Curse me or bless me, do as you might,

But

I, Phylippa, was right.

Hour 12: [colored umbrellas]

colored umbrellas

and raincoats on rainy day-

a whiff of vinyl

Amnesia Euphoria

Forget me nots

Notes

Ignorance

Love

Hate

Coming clean

Escape

Lose 

Found

Fake 

Real

Yep

Once I said:

I have become
ridiculously crowd adverse
since the pandemic

She said: It is weird out there.

Later

She said: Misogyny, apathy, and fear
about sexuality in general
runs very, very, very deep.

All the more reason
I’ve been finding myself
retreating from the world

Or perhaps just
finding different ways
to engage with lower expectations

[Prompt 12: Write about gathering with others. The specifics are up to you.]

2022 prompt/hour 11: “In memory of Helen”

2022 prompt/hour 11: “In memory of Helen”

 

I walk there, to see her – taking a folding chair

I cannot go in  – between covid and cancer treatment it isn’t safe

I sit beneath her verandah – she on her own chair, well above

Telling her stories of the very odd and strange things that happen at work

Telling them as well as I can from a ‘safe’ distance

Telling the stories with the uglier parts buffed out

Telling them with a pleasing light shone on the more amusing elements

Knowing it’s worth it …

Her face scrunching in joy

Her shoulders beginning to hunch and shake …

Her head then releasing back as her joy is shared with the sky

There were fewer of those days

As time wore you down – but I appreciated them all 

Though I do recall that one with the most fondness

The clear, true sound in your voice at the absurdity of life

I shall not forget it

I miss that sound

I miss you

 

Merry – LordCricket 2022 poetry marathon