The Poetry Marathon

Echoes

We cover our mouths
gasping for air
snorffling through our fingers

Whatever it was
one of us said
that was so funny
doesn’t matter now

L contorted so hard she farted
A spewed the Sprite she has sipped out through her nose
I heaved so hard to breathe my vision went splotchy

I don’t remember how we composed ourselves
to finish our dinners
pay the check
each head our separate ways
carrying some gem to rediscover
for decades to come

[Prompt 11: Write a poem about laughter without ever using the words, laugh, laughter, or giggle.]

Satiated – Hour 10 Prompt

“Nah, I’m good, thanks.”
-Not Very Hungry Hippo

Beautiful Oblivion

With a thump the wooden gong rings true

Mindful melody summoning all to the zendo

Morning and evening bleed into one

Time to honor the present in deep breaths

The past and the future matter not

Birth and death but one cosmic cycle

Forever’s an imaginary ephemeral thing

Today challenges us to find a vigorous victory

To walk it with determined, slow steps

Into the arms of beautiful oblivion

Cute leapord

Hour – 1

 

You always thought,
the leopards are violent,
they are a sinner in your eyes
It’s the Almighty who gave them such lives
Even if they crave peace, they are helpless.
You presumed they are fierce
this is the eternal ethos
He has to hunt to satisfy his starvation

No opportunity in front of him, no solution

They are helpless, so they kill the creature
Did you ever think?
What if a leapord likes pink
Put your prejudice aside
Just imagine a cute creature green- blue-eyed,
the one who loves to play hide n seek,
But could never win he was always spotted

Because of Black and White spots

a member of the family of your cutie cats
Ever wondered, how cute would a leapord be.

Poem 11 Hour 11 Comedian

 

Her face opened up like a gift when she smiled.

Music came out of her mouth when something was funny enough.

Still, she’d cover her face as she did so.

As if she was insecure or trying to hold herself back.

And he wanted her to know that she did not need to hide herself or anything about her.

He wanted her to be completely herself and let the music play.

For she is his melody.

And he is her comedian.

 

Laughter

What a joyous guffaw

shook me to my feet.

Humor bubbled down from my brain

then circled to my funny bone.

Words and image meshed and melded

tickling my brain stem

then exiting through my throat

my tear ducts

and, ungracefully,

through my nose.

Poem 11. Bryanna Joy

When the tickle hits her
head splayed back
mouth wide
eyes squinty tearing,
the most gorgeous joy
flows from her entire being
fully, shamelessly, contagiously.

She is captivating.
intoxicating.
She is rapture.

Love of summer

Summer by the pool is a reason to love
The wonderful beams that come from above
But when the sun beats down
For months at a time
Cooler weather is much more fine
One month in I’m running for shade
And in air conditioning I have it made
Popsicles are a tool of survival
And there are many tent revivals
And so I can say by the end of July
Why is this season so long, just why?

Hour 10: Out of orbit

I called you in as salve

for my loneliness

and you appeared to be

a gift from the powers—

the intercession

of spirit pulling strings

 

You wanted me

to dance with you

brow to brow

cheek to cheek

hip to hip—

in perfectly balanced flow

cycling within an insulated circuit,

orbiting each other

in some far off

pocket dimension

 

I did not recognize

this part of the cosmos

and began to pitch

and pull toward my own orbit

 

You were stronger than you looked

I called in debris and asteroids

to knock me off

the course you plotted

you clung more tightly

and whispered,

“Now that I’ve found you,

I’ll never let you go.”

 

You called out first

to the powers that be

with forever on your lips.

A sweet dream of easy love

curdled in my stomach

as I found myself to be

at the tail end of an ouroboros

perpetually caught

in the teeth of your yearning

for someone to hold onto,

not unlike mine

 

The pain of the pinch

shook the glamour from my eyes

and I awakened gratefully alone

 

Go dance your eternal dances elsewhere,

frolic away in faerie land

make your wishes, but beware

things don’t always end up as they’re planned

 

$1,000 in the Pot

In the morning light it was easy to see 

where her brother Abel had driven the truck. 

Not too close to the house. Few footprints 

remained under the new snowfall, a light

one last night. Darla recalled other snows 

that had blown in nearly to the windows 

and under the house. Especially 

under the house where the snow froze, 

first warmed by the house itself and then 

froze into solid rock by the winds that 

skimmed down the hill. She had spent 

a winter here with him, with Josh, 

but she’d learned the snow fell even 

in July. It was time to leave. 

She’d park the truck in town 

after her boxes were loaded 

onto the train. This view, lonesome, 

didn’t reveal the small town nearby 

with people who’d bet on whether 

she’d make it even one year. She’d 

held out for Abel. He could use the money.  

She turned, got into the truck,

shut the door and headed 

to the civilization that she knew.