The Poetry Marathon

Every seven-year-old deserves a superhero

Every seven-year-old deserves a superhero.
Who was mine?
To answer that, we have to go back–
Many many years;
Half of a century, plus one.
But who’s counting?

Every seven-year-old deserves a superhero.
Who was mine?
To answer that, I have to go back–
Way way back
To a life that is no longer mine.
But who’s noticing?

Every seven-year-old deserves a superhero.
Who was mine?
To answer that, I have to remember–
An empty yard by the street
With rose bushes lining the house.
But who smelled them?

Every seven-year-old deserves a superhero.
Who was mine?
To answer that, I have to get into the mind of a kid
Who was the third daughter:
The third girl but at last the darling had arrived.
Finally, the son was here.

Every seven-year-old deserves a superhero.
Who was mine?
To answer that, I cannot–
I cannot go back, cannot remember, cannot comprehend
Why God left me alone, with no hero, no savior.
But He wasn’t finished yet.

Every seven-year-old deserves a superhero.
Jesus was mine.
To answer why is beyond my comprehension–
But He was there, watching and waiting, biding His time,
Until He stepped in, stepped up, and revealed the answer of
Why every seven-year-old needs a superhero.

 

{The first sentence is from Fredrik Backman’s my grandmother asked me to tell you she’s sorry.}

 

 

Cat, Crate and Garden Gate

Cat, Crate and Garden Gate

Charlie watch your back
around you there is a cat
tracking the backyard.

Contained in a crate,
released free into the wild,
audibly adept.

The house cat is free,
everyone knows not to tease,
Anger a cat, no.

Never tease a cat
Do not get them wet. Water
gets them to react.

Artful and playful,
ruthless and vengeful. Hey cat,
don’t you smell a rat?

Even in low light,
near darkness is no problem.
Glowing in the dark.

Anticipate your
trip across the dish. Just don’t
enter in the light.

Hour seven, 3pm
Cat, Crate and Garden Gate.
(form Acrostic/ 7 Senryu)
Charlie the Mayfly.

v.j.calone

Summer Snowflakes Prompt 7

Spring snowflakes fall. You know, the fat, wet ones. The ones 

that hit the warm pavement and spread out. When I see spring 

snowflakes I think about snow in the summer. How far would a

summer snowflake get? Would it land on the ground? Would it

melt in the air and fall as a fat raindrop? What would it do?

Are you like the summer snowflake? Elusive, unpredictable? 

Where will I find you when I have given up hope?

Thumb’s Up (Hour 7)

The finger asked me:

‘Of all the fingers you own,

why did you choose me to hurt?’

I avoided an answer

Because I was void of one

Head bent in guilt, I pleaded,

It was an accident, no,

not my carelessness

for I saw the machete swing,

like it had swung at other times

as I broke the husk of a coconut.

But how could I tell,

yes, how could I tell

that the machete would miss the coconut

choose the finger that held it?

Now, athrob with pain and dripping blood

my thumb does not feel like my own.

 

12 Ways of Looking at Birds

Stuck

She’s  so hungry for his last supper with shame to even speak out

Why now, and what shall you do?

You must feel oppressed now

Does your heart feels awe or not

Tell us all about it or more to see you wish for hope to understand the why

Otherwise you may do the upmost good thing to iron out the wrinkle you know

Not a day gone by to wish “not”

#7- Home

The sky is always alive here

It seems to have a mind of its own

Shining a halo of light down

As though the heavens glorify (more…)

Summer Evenings

At dusk, before the
streetlights come on, we
watch fireflies
flicker in our tangled green
yard.

Always need my friends

I will always need my friends.
Community, unity, diversity
These are ingredients for wholeness in life.
Community is the glue of our crafts of togetherness.
It holds us accountable for our behavior when no-one’s looking.

Showing up for your life means you support the festivities.
Be there for someone else besides always trying to do your thang.
I love being with my people our diversity in talents and gifts bring
the laughter and fun.

These are my peeps we make great music.
It of us have a part to sing remembering to stay in our own lane.
Celebrating someone else mild stone is the backbone of unity.

“Calling all black people come on in Black people.”
I hear the call by showing up for the party. 🙂
However, I love when people are excited to see me coming.

When are having a good time telling fables in rhymes.
Gas prices are high, but so is the thrill of being among friends.
Community will keep you sane when things in solitude are not going your way.

Prompt 7, Mid-Morning

 

Birds practice their plaintive twitching for crumbs and scatter
like dive bombers
as I toss pinhead size morsels of my breakfast burrito shell
just beyond the perimeter.

More and more, the city market morning feels
like the calm before an indefinite storm.
My day is divided into specific slots. Even
under the glaring sun of the deepening morning, I still
have a breeze of hope that I can recalibrate those slots
so they’re fused into one unfettered day.

I close my eyes to absorb the smell of the smoke from
the coffee being roasted next door, and the myriad sounds of the market itself
–  the vendors, the streetcar bell, and the birds chirping as they swoop
and echo under the stalls – and gather myself for the commute.