The Poetry Marathon

I Will Fly Away

The craziest thing about it that its not for real

I go and fly with a spade

Or I will fly away

It comes with a eagle and even a bird

You said that your flight will be late

But stopping in England

Going going gone

You see it in the air higher up in the sky

You don’t have to chase after it to do what you want it to do

Just in time

You have the power force to glide it with arms

Imagine how higher you will go like an eagle

Your mind just keeps on thinking bigger than you are running for the next seat in line

You will see all of the waves of colors

Trillion of them assorted golden yellowish and in other ray’s

Coming from above outer space to see

You breathe in and out

Through your mouth

You don’t know what to do anymore

Sir, Mr. Astronot

Please fly this plane into Jupiter

So. That others can see of who you are at the wheel

A planet called Mars

Or even in the twilight zone

Far away

 

 

 

Painting

Something to soothe the storms
In my mind
Calm the waves rippling worry
through my thoughts
A way to put the heaviness down
Dreaming on canvas as vibrantly
As the vivid intensity that awakens me.

 

• Mandy Austin Cook

Choices

content warning: pretty sure there’s none

Much of life is a choice.
Two roads, like Robert Frost wrote;
The untrod paths, the call of the voice,
Distant yet yearning note.

There are many streets to take.
To turn left or right; to rush or to linger –
Each decision a new fate will make
Although there will be no bell ringer.

Your choices are yours, for better or worse;
I know this much to be true.
Whether life is a blessing or a curse,
That’s entirely up to you.

Hour 6 – The Bad Guy

Who are you, now that I’m not here
Now that your cup is being filled
With wine way sweeter than mine

What is it like to believe you’re worthy
To value yourself the way you did me
Loving yourself more than I could

 

When did my true colors break through your rose tinted glasses
The fairytale you wanted, gone
The truth more sobering than ever

 

Where will you be when I’m 6 feet under
The hole that I buried
Is colder without you

 

Why did you change
Evolve so greatly that you’re no longer recognizable
Becoming better than the dreams we had together

#6 The Sweetness of Vinegar

The Sweetness of Vinegar
credit to:The Vinegar Man by Ruth Comfort Mitchell

Thank you Miss Collins, my poetry muse,
your old legs bowed, with fist
pounding out each poem’s rhythm upon your brittle hip.

making us stand, alone, to recite from memory
Vinegar, vinegar, vinegar man,
face us and chase us and catch if you can

my seventh grade mind impervious to death’s approach or loss of true love
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Annabel Lee and The Raven, all
etched into my memory forever.

We were your children and poetry your gift to us.
Long live the balladeer, the seed you planted within me.
I humbly thank you venerable teacher of words.

Reset

After reflecting on a day of pain,
I seek to find my self again.
Calm waters soothe my weary mind
and carry me away.

I drift away in timeless peace
I close my eyes and breathe release.
I carry home a hope within.
I’m feeling like myself again.

 

Pandemic Rage: A Comedy

The Toyota dealer offered valet service for maintenance appointments. We took advantage of that because my husband is immunocompromised. The car was returned at the end of the day. The next day, we drove down to a nursery in the next county, where we were taking advantage of their curbside pick-up service. I wondered why my husband looked rather odd driving the car. His arms seemed more awkwardly stretched out than usual. After we got home, I was preparing to go to the library for curbside pick-up and found that my feet no longer reached the pedals. The car mechanics had done what they always did, moved the seat way back and neglected to return it to how they’d found it. This time, we couldn’t move the seat forward. I became incensed. All the frustrations of this new, restrictive way of life came to a head in that moment. Paul, who is much slower to get angry than I am, said he’d try again to move the seat. He worked on it for a while, and proclaimed it fixed. The culprit, apparently, had been a squished foil-wrapped chocolate lodged under the seat’s sliding mechanism. It had probably been under the seat for years, before moving into this mischievous position. I pictured the scene if the mechanics had been summoned to ‘fix the seat.’ Now, I was grateful, instead of furious. I laugh whenever I remember my absolute fury, whose ultimate cause was a piece of candy.

Hour 6

You yearned for refuge

from exposure in your

shelter

 

You wanted me to govern

the world; A force you

control

 

You could not accept me

for who I am, because

you wanted me all for

yourself

 

You left me in the prison

you broke free from

 

Subbing in America through Haiku: Hour 8

backpacks stuffed into

lockers — patiently waiting

to be overturned

 

Hour 7 : A World of Love

Not counting days

Losing the sense of time

Being in your arms is what I cherish

With each passing day

You are there by my side

Our magic working wonders

When we lay together

Under the lap of nature

The twinkle in your eye

Infinitely vast and small

Gaze into my shadows

The universe singing it for me

My soul sings along

Among the atoms and stars

A breath of fresh air

Infinite it may seem to me to hold your hand

Please sing with me, the song of harmony

For the love we share

Come dream with me

Of a place we call love

Let’s walk into it hand in hand

Until the last ash drops