The Poetry Marathon

Gigan Style Prompt#8

Gigan Style

 

First Platoon boards the Huey, sickly smell of sweat and death

elbow to elbow we sit cramped in the narrow compartment

 

hot, sticky air like a sauna grips us in its wet claws

rotors spin, air rushes through the open doors

but no relief is felt from the hot, breath of the dragon

 

gnawing fear grips each man as the bird lifts off

taking us to places we don’t want to go

 

the green canopy is now below us concealing them but not us

we land at the LZ, bullets snapping and popping as we emerge

 

the encounter is short, bloody, cries of wounded, silence of dead

First Platoon boards the Huey, sickly smell of sweat and death

 

 

 

gnawing fear grips each man as the bird lifts off

are we headed back to the firebase, home, safety from the enemy

safety from the fear and death and sweat

 

 

Hueys flying the wrong way, new orders issued

on to the next hot LZ more fear, death and sweat

I am

I am from a big city

Where everyone is in a hurry 

 

No time for manners

Or gentle “good day” 

Not even a smile

 

I left the big city 

Looking for a small town 

 

I found the place

It is calm and friendly 

 

I always remember 

I am from a big city 

 

I left the big city 

I feel inspired 

In this tiny town 

 

Writing poems, reading and gardening

It is my new hobby in this nice place 

 

(Hour 8-@Mejia) 

When I was 26

I saw the moon
in sand, ran away, lost in the redwood
forest of Sonoma, used my hair
as a pillow, followed a lonely dream.

When I was 26, I found a sea turtle
shell in the forbidden woods
of Hunting Island. I found courage.

When I was 26, I touched the stage,
palm flat, awe in my heart.
Near and far, near and far.
Yes, Carol Ann, I hear you.

When I was 26, a silk skirt
held me close, a strike through,
an unfamiliar mouth with unfamiliar lips,
a wish on wild feathers.

When I was 26, Angela became translucent
like stained glass in an abandoned
chapel, like a ghost, like cataracts.

When I was 26, I felt, I swam.
I beamed, braved, held my heart
in my hands like an urchin.

2022 #9 – Garden Walks

Long walks through
the gardens.

Holding hands.
Stopping to smell
the roses.

Sneaking a kiss
every possible chance.
More than one perhaps…

Gazing into your eyes.
Seeing the love and
affection deep in your soul.

Hugs, to feel you
closer to me.
To be closer to you.

Your smile,
brightening the
darkest of days.

A laugh so adorable,
it melts the hearts
of all who hear it.

Melting my heart..

Hour Eight – Princess Dreaming

Princess Dreaming

Sleeping Beauty arises from her sleep
To find that Cinderella has taken over the kitchen

She has mixed the lentils with the peas
She has put the ladles in with the spoons
She has let in the birds and small creatures

Finding the kingdom in disarray
Sleeping Beauty goes back to bed

She dreams a prince, a prince who is dreamy
A dreamy prince who dreams only of her

But the dream turns to nightmare and she wakes
Sleeping Beauty arises from her sleep

Finding the kingdom in disarray
Sleeping Beauty joins in the fun
Pouring soap in the cereal and cinnamon in the salad

Sleeping Beauty arises from her sleep
To find it has all been a dream anyway

Memories

Some memories are wonderful

they remind you of what use to be.

memories can transport you to a different time and place

recapturing the glory of days gone by.

 

Sometimes it’s good for memories to fade

especially those we would prefer to forget.

Hiding in the shadows and the recesses of our minds

spectors of experiences long since forgotten.

 

Debra A. K. Thompson

 

 

 

 

Leprechauns and People – Hour Eight

My little brother, Sam, doesn’t think leprechauns are real – can you believe that
Green, lucky, rainbows, pots of gold
How can they not be real
After all, green is a color, rainbows shine in the sky, luck happens and gold can be put in pots
So they must be real if all those things are
Maybe, in reality, humans aren’t real
And leprechauns are
I mean, it seems like they’re dependable, showing up every March and on cereal boxes the rest of the year
People, on the other hand, can be unpredictable, cancel plans, and go absent for years on end
Leprechauns spread joy; people can spread hate
In fact, they can seem quite fake
So can you really say leprechauns are not real if people are fake
I don’t see how Sam thinks leprechauns aren’t real
I guess you just have to believe

 

Adapted from the book Three Ways to Trap a Leprechaun by Tara Lazar. p.1, line 1.
Prompt from 2020 Poetry marathon. Hour 12.

Hour 8 – Hide and Seek

you told me to close my eyes and count to ten,
to come and find you when i opened them again

but in the darkened beats i felt your fingers
intertwine with mine. “i didn’t want you to be alone,”
you said. we decided to play tag instead.

that summer we stained our fingerprints
with chlorine and strawberry popsicles

but soon, years drew lines across our faces and sad smiles
held stories we saved for red wine and winter nights

until, finally, I told you about him.
“close your eyes and count to ten,” you said

it was summer when he stained my fingerprints
with kisses covered in poison, but you wiped my tears
that winter and said, “now open them”

and in the glow of the firelight, you reached your hand
towards mine and promised, “you never have to be alone again.”

Hour 8: Prompt 8: Calm

The blue pebbles along the trail remind me of you

Our happiness

Our calm

Our never ending embrace to connect us to each other

A Marbles Metaphor

For from shooting for the stars,

some days I have lost my marbles

once housed in separate pods.

I find it harder

to hone once much well-worn skills

while upping my game.

Whether shooting rare jade

or healing brown onyx, I strive

to keep playing awhile.

For whoever stays in

the longest goes on to win.