The Poetry Marathon

My little horse must think it queer

that I tremble in fear

as I reach for the deer

to tuck it between the car front and rear

oh what a waste

one cannot but tempt to taste

the goodness of luck

all three of us leave in a truck.

Here we are in black and white in the world of brightest colors.
Some people are red or blue then turns into yellow.

I need to be black at some days where I need to go.
But you backing me up into white means, I’ll just be back tomorrow.

I see ourselves in photographs from 10 years, younger days.
Years and years, months to weeks, and I still adore you anyway.

We are now here in modern times,
And now turn old and grey.

But always remember that from black and white,
I still love you, everyday.
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Writer: M.E. Flores
Hour07, Image Prompt07

Why, why, why?
Why did you make me look at my phone
Why dredge up the memories
That chill me to the bone

There’s a reason I never
Check back on my pics
The stuff I get up to
Would make even the most depraved sick

It wasn’t intentional
I didn’t mean to cause harm
Why did I start drinking
On a trip to that petting zoo farm

Is there a sight more depressing
A vision more bleak
Than a 20 year old something
Having a fight with a sheep

And the poor little donkey!
Can’t believe its true
If I look again at that picture
I’m certain to spew

So I won’t look at those photos
I don’t know why they’re saved!
Its not like anyone’s clamouring
To see an Alpaca shaved…

There’s something scary in the dark and the adults need cartoons to help them sleep at night
after we open their phones all day for the state-mandated doses of paralyzing fear.

What’s left to do but reach out for some kind of comfort?
But the small talk is tinged with violence.

suspicion, the other– is it you?
Who do I blame?
Is it you?
It’s them.
Are they you?
etc.

Terror and reprieve from the terror – whiplash
content, engagement, repeat.

Like our Airbnb host in Lisbon, a woman from Angola, said as she looked at her grandson watching cartoons,
“It’s good to distract the mind.”

He stands on the porch
surveying the landscape

Years of churning soil
planting watering fertilizing

They say women turn to gardening
in the years after childbearing

But in this household
the role reversed

My husband the laborer
giving birth, nurturing, coddling

Until now each plant can stand
on its own, propagate families

The universe did not provide
grandchildren in our lives

Instead, we sit out each night
look out over the blooming expanse

Take compliments from strangers
passing by enjoying the beauty

My husband guffaws as I beam
“It’s all his doing.”

The proud PawPaw
His family fills the yard

[Prompt 7: Look on your phone and find the 10th non-selfie picture and use that as your prompt.]

Spot quietly accepted his role as family dog
ate cereal from a spoon
wore a bib
put up with me.

Learned to sit up
and say, “Please.”
Ran to meet me
when I came home from school.

Never complained about being saddled
with a name from Dick and Jane.
Slept in the basement.
Ate Red Heart dog food from a can.

Barked at the mailman.
Broke his back leg.
Thumped around in a cast.

Stayed out of the frontroom
and off from the furniture.
Knew his place.

Except when he didn’t.
Except when he escaped out the back screen door
and raced free through the neighborhood,
looking for girl dogs,
enticing them,
and fathering lots of little Spots.

it’s too hot and you don’t drink enough water

you see the joggers and bikers go by and

wish you could be like them. active. committed

filled with drive desire and determination

instead you’re just a lazy daydreamer

stoned and sweaty. stagnant. addled.

is it too late for me? you think, as the sun

brightens to blinding and the leaves turn dark

Day is the best part of the day

When you can go outside and walk into the park with a book in your hands to read or recite slowly on your path

When things are hard or easy to handle with carefree and love

The warmest of it all is to get your mind, body, and heart at ease through the process to think on a biblical term so pleasing

Daytime Jesus, is with you at all times

Love love love

He saw the alarm clock over there, ticking on the chest of drawers. “Good God!” he thought. It was half past six, and the hands were going quietly on. It was past the half hour, almost quarter to seven. Shouldn’t the alarm have sounded? One could see from the bed that it had been properly set for four o’clock. Certainly it had rung. And was it even possible for one to sleep quietly through the noise that made even the furniture shake? Now, he certainly hadn’t had a peaceful sleep, but apparently it was deep nonetheless. But what should he do now? The next train left at seven o’clock. To catch that one, he would have to make a mad dash; his assortment of wares wasn’t packed up yet, and he really didn’t feel particularly fresh and active. And even if he caught the train, there was no way to avoid those storm clouds brewing over the boss’ head, because the firm’s errand boy would’ve waited for the five o’clock train and reported the news of his absence long ago. 

Canary whispers
Taunting the emerald floors
Laugh with every breath