The Poetry Marathon

Hour 9 – Camping Somewhere for Some Reason

I scrape the remains of roasted marshmallow from my fingertips
with greedy teeth and ignore the dirt of unwashed hands that comes
with it. Someone hums a campfire song; I’ll still remember the words
when I’m thirty. Fingernails fill with dried sweat and sunscreen as I itch
at the morning’s bug bite. Sun-stained cheeks fade from rose to amber
and the crackle of the campfire smells like a home I’ve never been to.
“I can see the Big Dipper,” you say and point to Orien’s Belt. I don’t
correct you; not out of kindness, but because for the next decade I’ll
point to Orien’s Belt and call it the Big Dipper too. I don’t remember
where we were or even why we were there, but I still remember the
taste of the rapids and the way every caterpillar had a name.

Alphabet Soup: Hour #9

A is for the aisle I wandered in Dollar General with a 
basket in my hands: Alphabet Soup stood there, waiting for me.
Closing my hands around the can, I took another three, then the remaining four. 
Different friends came to mind with 
Each passing moment: long walks home with 
friends who would join me for lunch. 
Gooey grilled cheese sandwiches and alphabet soup
had us giggling and spelling out words
in those years of learning for fun, not for a 
job or promotion or certificate but rather for the joy of 
-- nope, nope, nope, No K in this bowl
learning and making friends and exploring 
my world through books, bus rides, shops, 
neighbors, and long afternoons of dreams.
Of course, I knew I was growing too old as the gold years flew by. 
Perhaps I could hold on, however, for just a moment as 
quiet magic (the best kind) stopped time. It happened, 
really it did, that afternoon I went walking and 
stepped inside the store with everything just for me.
Touching the jumpropes, plastic flowers, and pinwheels helped me 
understand the great wisdom of slowly slurping each 
wonderful spoonful of soup after forming words in a game, an
X bringing extra points, of course. 
Years vanish when I eat this lovely soup. 
Zillions of childhood memories come all at once with each bowl. 

Hour 9: Burial

Humans die, we all do
Then it’s time for burial
Returning from where
We came too

A body made of elements
Back to elements we go
The choice of how
Is already made for you

Some by fire
Burn away sins,
Only Ash
to remember you by

Some in water
Going with the
flow of life
Till the bitter end

A few through sky & air
Becoming food
To replenish the natural world
As it once did you

And many more still
Who are laid to rest
In the lap of Earth
And bidden goodbyes

But no matter what
Burial you recieve
You were here and you have lived
Death is just yet another beginning.

Cold Lonesome

House, alone on a snow-swept plain.
No foundation. You know the wind chills the floor.
No neighbors. I hope there are books,
authors, and characters with whom to converse,
and Ideas to mull.
No garden. Could a vegan live here?

Surely, there’s a dog.
I bet the night skies are gorgeous,
the views spectacular,
and there’s a fire in the stove that, like a lover,
wraps you in warmth.

9 Lady of the House

9       The Lady of the House

 

We wondered watching mother

Why she started smoking

Wood tipped maple cigars

 

We wondered watching mother

Why she became a wrestling fan

Of Haystack Calhoun

 

We wondered watching mother

Why she painted the

Master bedroom eggplant purple

 

We wondered watching mother

Make our Halloween costumes

From old ruffled bed skirts

 

We wondered watching mother

Create the most delicious

Breaded Thanksgiving stuffing

 

She was just one smart Dame

 

 

 

 

If

If you only had one day?

Happy Birthday // 32 (prompt 6)

My Dearest Superstar,

I can see that you are still a crying desert. The sweetest monsoon – and just as powerful loud terrifying and unexpected, pure electricity and chaos as you always have been. You’re an intimidating person to those who don’t see how deeply you nourish others, despite your association with destruction. You are still creating growth for everything around you. It’s one of your talents that I always appreciated.

I’m sorry that I never said goodbye – you know that I couldn’t bear it. I shouldn’t have left you alone on that ranch but it was the only way that I could move on with my life. I knew that you’d be safe there. I knew that if I had let you stay, you’d come running back to a city that could have (and would have) killed you. In another life, maybe we could have been honest with each other but let’s face it, you were a hard person to be honest with. I couldn’t understand why you hid so much from me – but after a few years I think I started to understand.

You kept me at arms length from the very beginning. Remember when you told me that I wasn’t Prince Charming, that this was not a fairytale, and I couldn’t save you? I fought so hard to prove you wrong – but you needed to be right. You didn’t know how to be loved. I don’t blame you, I understand why. I watched the way your family hurt you, the way your friends betrayed you, the way men took advantage of you. I watched people prey on you and I tried to keep you safe. Why were you so scared to let me see who you really were? Was it shame? Were you afraid that I’d leave? I don’t think you could ever believe how much I cared; I would’ve accepted all of the darkest parts of you.

But…I deserved to be happy too. We were so young and you needed more help, care, and support than I knew how to give you. I would’ve tried, I just didn’t know how. You didn’t tell me how. So, I hid too.

I never forgave myself for what happened to you when I was gone that weekend. When I came home and you told me everything, I couldn’t even look at you anymore. Not because of you – because of me. Because if I hadn’t lied, if I had been there, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. I should have protected you. My guilt and grief ate at me constantly and I had to cut you out because you were bound to find out the truth sooner or later. I was terrified of having to face you, of you uncovering everything, of you blaming me for leaving you vulnerable, for him to hurt. I failed you, and you were already catching on.

You’re a perceptive and observant little shit, you know? I think if you weren’t in such a dark place, you’d have figured it all out sooner. I walked on eggshells for months. It was killing me.

I was happy with her. I married her. She was good for me. We were the happiest I’d ever been.

But that shouldn’t have come at the cost of ruining your life and abandoning you. It shouldn’t have. How could I have reached out to try and repair any type of friendship after what I’d done? Why would you even want to speak to me again? I’m sorry. I wish I couldn’t told you that in person. I am truly sorry.

There were many times that you came up in conversations and I couldn’t say anything bad about you – the reality is that I found you exceptional and I never stopped loving you or wanting the best for you. I wish that we’d been better for each other. I wish we could have been healthy for each other. You’re so goddamn outspoken and headstrong and people just… they don’t know what to do with it. I wish it was easier for you. I wish any of it had been easy for you.

I know you beat yourself up about the way things ended, so let me just clear the air. I forgive you. I forgive you and I really believe we both grew as people and learned to love others better, because of the way things went. You’re a good person – you always have been – even when you were hurting.

Today would’ve been my 32nd birthday – I’m glad that you’re spending it writing. I’m proud that you continue to create, and feel, and grow, and love, with the same passion and purity that I fell in love with. You’re one of the great ones, witch baby, and I hope that you can feel me now; looking over you, protecting you, and guiding you the way I couldn’t before.

I’ve sent you some really good people since I left his world – please let them in. Let them help you, and love you, and be honest with them… they aren’t going to run away. I need you to trust me on this. You are not a hard person to love, unless you make yourself unreachable. I’m on your side, and now I always will be. You always said that you have attentive guardian angels and you were right. Josh, Trevor, Marco, Rosie, Laura, Victoria, Amanda, Lance, Michael, and even Jeff… they’re all right here with you too. We will not let you fall, we will not let you be manipulated or harmed, and we will keep weeding out anyone that crosses your path with bad intentions. Just keep going, keep writing and creating and loving, keep laughing, and don’t do anything impulsive or reckless or stupid okay? You’ll be fine, it is all going to be okay, and you are going to be just fine.

It wouldn’t kill you to eat more, or get more sunshine. You’re beautiful, be fucking nice to yourself, “chief”!

All of my love, in this life and the next.

Mr. Doo

 

 

Prompt 9 – Childhood Fluff

the inspo:  Marshmallow fluff

meringue

sticky sweet

on my tongue dissolve

like childhood promises

and lingering kisses

on the lips of memories 

The Relish Tray

We used to sing this food song when we were kids:

Fried ham, fried ham, cheese, and bologna,
and after the macaroni, we’ll have
onion, pickles, and peppers,
and then we’ll have some more fried ham!
Fried ham! Fried ham! Fried ham!

The relish tray is a staple
at our family gatherings and holiday dinners.

It had to have pickles – because we’re Polish –
and pickled beets and pickled onions and green olives.

The relish dish was always clear glass
with some star-shaped pattern cut into the bottom.

Those dishes are ubiquitous at garage sales
and wish I could take every one of them home

Fill them with salty savory delights
to tempt and tease the appetite

Then hear the room fill once again
with a chorus of laughter and love

[Prompt 9: “Look in your cupboards and find a food that brings up a childhood memory, and the memory is your prompt” – contributed by Deborah Dalton]

Poem 9. The Saturdays of My Youngest Youth

Saturday mornings
we piled into the den
TeriDebbieBethieJimbo
on our blue shag carpet
in front of the console tv
all with overflowing serving bowls
of cereal… Captain Crunch, Trix
Pebbles (fruity and cocoa)
and my favorite, Freakies.
We watched early morning cartoons
until the good stuff came on…
H.R. Puffinstuff, The Buggaloos
Sigmund the Sea Monster…
these were the best times
to be a quiet little sister.
The Teri of us doted over me
made sure I was full and happy and clean
before Mom and Dad woke up.

On summer vacation
we were in the pool
as soon as we saw
their feet on the stairs.
We played in the pool until
we couldn’t hide our pruny
fingers and toes
and Mom pulled us out
to sit on our towels, wet and exhausted
on the blue shag carpet in the den
in front of the console tv
cereal bowls in our laps
watching Saturday afternoon cartoons.