The Poetry Marathon

Juliette

Juliette was without her Romeo
She lived in the deep blue sea.
Juliette was a squeamish whale would didn’t like shrimp.

She a dreamed one day of walking on land.
Her qualms about being a sea monster did not fit her pedigree.
Juliette longed for the day the she could feel the earth beneath her feet.

Expected to eat the fisherman on boats she would met.
Teased by her whale companions for avoiding blood and gore.
No way she would swallow Jonah like her ancestors before.

Juliette without her Romeo could not wish upon a star.
Everywhere that plankton went Juliette was sure to go.
Other species like Juliette made her feel ashamed.

They laughed and snarled at the cowardly whale for acting like a scarecrow.
Then one day her wish came true when a prince that she knew fell onto the oceans floor.
Juliette recued him ana brought him back safely to the shore.

In return the prince thanked Juliette and kiss her on her nose.
Amazingly, what she had been was never to be no more.
Suddenly, Juliette became the women she wanted to be.

Her tail grew into legs, She was able to join the prince
At the palace where her story was written by the scribe.
Juliette was no longer the Squamish man eating whale never again took a dive.

Guffaw

The simplest cruelty we can perform on another human being is to mock

the sound they make during the moments they find joy

 

To see a living breathing person with hopes, and dreams, and love

and turn their happiest moments to ash in their mouths

 

To the vultures who circle for everyone’s light:

 

It is my sincerest wish for you that you always get pulled over for broken taillights

That you never have enough milk for your cereal

That you don’t realize this until after you’ve poured your Lucky Charms

That you mistake your Nair for toothpaste

May you develop a spice intolerance to every seasoning but butter

May your alarm clock break every second Tuesday night

May it sometimes not go off in the morning

May it sometimes keep ringing till it shatters on the wall

May your coffee always be cold, but never iced

May your favorite kind of coffee be lava

I wish for you no illness

But an allergy to every domesticated animal known to man

An intolerance for allergy medication

And a deep, inconsolable love for all things four-legged

 

Most of all, I wish for you this

That every moment of joy that you steal from someone’s lips

Be multiplied tenfold in your misery

#11

Break the chains

build the bond

burn it down

start a new plot to plant

be the foundation for the forest to grow

do whatever it takes to soothe the soul

pick the piece that speaks peace to you

Poetry Marathon Hour 11:

I love the blog, www.iwrotethisforyou.me and it’s fancy randomizer feature over on the right hand side of the page. And so that is how I landed on the inspiration for this – poem 11 – because progress is indeed being made even if it does not feel like it.

 

Poem 11:

The things that matter to you

right here in this moment are

all the things you’ve never known

how to make space for but have

kind of sort of attempted wanted.

 

These are the things that make

you into the person you claim to be

and should be treated as the precious

opportunities they truly are – regardless

 

of how uncertain you may be or how

tired you are beginning of this moment –

so worn out that you could let it all simply

slip by without a care in the world if only

 

you were unaware a while longer.

-M. Rene’

Sincerelybluejay

(tanka)

Svalbard is
losing its glaciers
what about
the Global Seed Vault’s
future crops?

The Best Medicine

Humour touches the essence of humanity.
As the world grows dreary, one simple joke,
action, or musing can bring the sun back
before those smiling. So bright that words sting

and the belly aches. Tears shed (happy
one’s, I promise). All can be united by
the simple action of experiencing the joy

that has been given, and releasing
these blessings back into the world
for others to grasp, and send through

their limbs. A calming, brightening ritual,
no matter the socially constructed divisions.

All can smile hard with one another.

Harmless fun

Lazy Sundays
Chilling and cooking
Meeting and greeting friends
Playing games, we did fun stuff

Down by the lake
We hung out and drifted in and out sleep
There was a joker in our midst
Hardly could we contain ourselves
Running to the washroom at first chance

Jane tried to remain stoic
But her face crumbled into a hopeless mess
While her hands gestures, I give up!
Our lazy days are fun full of frolicking

We look forward to these day
Rarely do we miss a beat

Captor of Love

Gone are the days that’ve passed us by
No one to retrieve a tear we’ve already cried
Try as we might, scars never heal
Forever is trapped in jaws of steel

Caged behind bars of doubt
From within the body watches the soul without
Captured by his own hand
Time holds fast to its hourglass of sand

Food for the soul is dipped with a dirty spoon
A spider emerges from a black cocoon
The viper lies in a crib where the baby sleeps
I heard a curdling cry no mind conceives

Can you see from the mountain tops now?
How we’ve come so far, where one step is so far down
A prince sets on a throne without a crown
Behind his eyes are skeletons walking around

Craddled between the arms of loving her
The mind is concealed from the thoughts that were
While the wounds drip drops of blood
Seeping through the cracks where once was love

post #11: in the temple of the banyan tree

In the temple of the banyan tree

set within the circle of a zoo

where men were kept in tiger cages

and children held out sugar cane

to friendly elephants

I saw where gods lived.

On the fragrant curls of incense

deeply smoked into the banyan’s

ropy branching coiled walls

god(s) floated, whispering

a name I did not recognise

from church.

This, I knew at once,

was where god(s) lived.

Here among the tree’s silver

grey limbs, cradled in its coiled branches,

mystery and wisdom played cards

bargaining for knowledge.

Nothing has changed

although memory patinas like an amulet

and I am trying to remember

what I heard so long ago & far away

in the temple of the banyan tree

just beyond the boundary of childhood

 

Hour 11: [stillness meditates]

stillness meditates

as ripples whisper to winds-

placid reflections