The Poetry Marathon

Some Days

Each morning, I orchestrate an array of multivitamins
from a kitchen counter graced with a frame containing a 1983 postcard image
of Joan Didion and John Gregory Dunne and a travel book to Spain.

After swallowing the roughly half a dozen supplements,
I quake down to my knees and go through floor exercises
meant to improve my aging balance on this troubled plain.

Most days, I occupy listening to well-off women with highly self-regarded
opinions opine on why they want what they don’t need
as long as they can get it at cost just to test my restraint.

Other days, I live on the wild side and plan where I’d go
if the world did become a land of biters. Whichever zombie movie
comic this apocalypse looks like is lined, but still not painted.

Some days, I ask for nothing but quiet and a story to read
that doesn’t make me sorry for getting out of bed.
Gratitude was my least favorite exercise, but it’s keeping me sane.

Blissful Contagion (2022 Poem 11)

Grown ups chuckle with delight
Until we can barely breathe
Worries left outside our door
Brought into the present with a snap

Elders guffaw in shared surprise
Until ribs are sore and aching
Memories of best loved times
Complaints are all forgotten

Babies chortle gleefully
Until their belly hurts
Smiles appear on all who hear
Happiness, a beautiful contagion

(Prompt: Write a poem about laughter without ever using the words, laugh, laughter, or giggle.)

11 Laughter

An ex once told me

I looked like Santa with

my belly shaking

and it embarrassed her.

That took the grin

right off my face

and put me in my place.

Entwined – hour 11

Hour 11, Prompt 11

(the twisted tree image)

 

Entwined

(this one is by the character Nigel Taiman from my world of Onweald)

 

I might have forgotten this day to mention

when the first sun spread

dawn’s pale blue across our bed

how perfectly you are an extension

of the soul of me

 

Gods placed and planted our roots side by side

to grow to embracing

perfection enlacing

supporting, holding your form alongside

close against the soul of me

 

It is the joy of my life to rise with you

and succumb to the breeze

tangling branches to appease

those entwined and wet with dew

out of the soul of me

 

Far away

It lingers in its longing.

So distant yet so close in

any circumstance.

 

You think about it constantly;

is it your salvation or just another false prophecy?

Has it been your calling all along or merely a last resort?

You need to consider,

analyze

as thoroughly as possible

in order to keep your regrets from consuming you whole.

 

It’s never easy nor do we expect it to be

but perhaps we owe it to ourselves to see it through

come hell or high water.

You were supposed to be

This was not the plan
How could it be?
For you to be there with him
and for me to again be alone
You were never committed to this
that is clear to me now

This was our problem
How do you not see that?
But you were not willing to fight
for this relationship, for my love
You were meant to be my last chance
at building something real

This is our end then
How do we move on from this?
Clearly you no longer care
how much you leaving me for him hurts
You were supposed to be the one
who would fix me

In a haste

I saw the tortoise

Running so fast

To meet up an appointment

With the Chief of Army Staff.

Yes I saw him, I mean the tortoise

Talking to himself

And running to meet the Chief…

Licked by a Toad

Licked by a toad

Look around your nest and see if the coast is clear.
I hear a bullfrog croak and that I know for sure.
Cautious if you are alone, I would not go outdoors
Kindly, hang out, wait for my sign and stay here.

Everyone knows they are found here this time of year.
Do have them lick you if you’re wishing for a cure.
But, look around your nest and see if the coast is clear.
You may hear a bullfrog croak and then you’ll know for sure.

Also, Charlie be careful and try to swallow your fear.
To the shadows with others who can not yet soar.
Oh, like a boat to a rudder and a sea to a shore.
Almost made it to half a year, grab the tiller and steer.
Do look around your nest and see if the coast is clear.

Hour eleven, 7pm
Licked by a Toad
(form Acrostic/ Rondel)
Charlie the Mayfly.

v.j.calone

A Gleeful Pair (Hour 11)

We sit side-by-side on the bleachers on our street

It’s been a long school term so we fill each other in

I tell you about the boy I like

 

“Our first kiss was like magic

It wasn’t quick or like the marriage of lips by amateurs

It was heaven and sugar and bliss

I chuckled after in high clouds

but a teacher saw us the whole time”

 

I tell you how my mother beat me blue-black

I raise my skirt to show you the proof of my stupidity brandished on my thigh

you guffaw and quake to the ground

I cannot help it, I cackle along

 

My story takes a back seat to yours

you failed math again so you would be back to my public school

with a loud roar I collapse beside you

we are going to make a bad pair at school

 

Hour Eleven: Old Tree

Hour Eleven: Old Tree

Limbs tangled, twisting, entwining each other,
like children playing Twister
or the perfect Eagle pose
centuries of wind sweeping across the desert
nudging the winding of supple bark
now hardened into wizened shape.
The tree barely leaves
yet stands even now
bending only to the wind.