The Poetry Marathon

Take Care

Dear Chile,

Now, I did not want to come to you in this way. You know that I didn’t girl. The fact is that you don’t dream anymore so I can’t visit like I used to.

Y’all think spirits are free. That’s what y’all think until it’s y’all body three ways separate- mind, soul, and spirit.

Anyway, Dearest most stubborn Chile of mine, there’s really no truth in turning over in graves. We are not magicians lifting embalmed bodies partially decaying. You know that we are under the earth.

Chile, let me get to it before you throw this thing away. You only read two types of talking- no words or straightforward.
I’m telling you Chile you have to take care of yourself. Be selfish. Be honest. The strength for everything and everyone else will come quicker than before.

“Mary, that girl gone let them chill in kill her.. she just like you was bout that old man. ‘Cept for her young.
My mama says tell you that.

“Ruth, let her ass learn. If she wants to be with us let her come on. We miss her don’t we?” James Smith still ain’t got good sense. Yes he is your father. I feel your questioning.

Clyde mostly hovers over his headstone wondering why he didn’t get a walk in grave . We don’t remember the name of the thang. Anyways, he just always waiting for y’all to visit. Why don’t y’all visit? Why don’t you and your brother visit?
Your brother and sister visit all the time.

Big ma sys she knows that you gone finish that quilt and make us proud. And Ludie say, after she search for James, she say, she thinks you Gigi after her style. I tell her you remind me of me and here I am.

Daughter, take care of yourself!

Hour #1 Snickers Hummed All Around

Letter from Ancestor

Letter from Ancestor

My dear
I am long gone
but I wish you well
do not hurt the pigeons
let the mongoose live in the bushes
Ah…do you water the plants I planted?
the gulmohar, the deodar and the cedar
the mango bears fruits now…
give some to the children
the old neighbor’s health
but a faltering pain
visit you must

My dear
one day when you will be long gone
you’ll understand the small nothings
then write a letter to your young ones
wishing them well in life
just like how I wrote
life goes on

Hour 6

@varenyas

Dear Son

Prompts for the Sixth Hour

Dear Son

~willjxn~

Dear Son,

It’s about time really.

That is, I’m here to talk to you about time.

So go ahead and wash the dishes and—

Well—

Ponder.

Remember.

Believe.

You are good at being in your head in the present moment..

Pondering comes pretty easy for you.

It’s just “the what “you should be picky about.

Don’t let yourself get stuck in the negative.

Continue to ponder what is beautiful and what is truth.

Don’t let fleeting passions blind you to what is important in life.

Then there is “Remember”.

Don’t let the past get away from you.

Remember the learning moments and those who have taught you.

Finally, there is believing.

Believing is about reaching into the future.

Believe there is truth and when you find it you will know it is right.

Believe in yourself.  Yes, everyone has this posted somewhere on a wall.

But you are one of an endless number of beings of truth.

You were made to import and then impart truth.

Once you find it.  Share it with others.

It is always up to the listener to decide for themselves the truth.

 

I love you always,

Mom

 

 

No. 9: Scent

Smell often pairs
With taste to
Enhance a meal

Some smells make
You smile fondly
Of happy moments

Some smells make
You jump back
Cry with revulsion

Smells are powerful
Highways leading us
To past remembrances

Hour 6 Writing Prompt – Write about this image

Angels on Earth

There are members of our families

Acquired in many ways.

Some stay with us a long, long time

And some for merely days.

2 legs, 4 legs, sometimes 3

Fur and feathers, too

Squawks and barks and whistling sounds

All those kisses just for you.

They’ll walk with you and rest with you

They’re sad when you aren’t there

We scratch their ears and squelch their fears

When storms are in the air

Their bubble baths will make you laugh

That skunk smell not so much

Once they’re out and squeeky clean

They’re oh so soft to touch

So here’s to all our family pets

Loyal from the start

There memories will always hold

A place within our hearts!

 

 

 

Dear Sandi (hour 6)

Life is very brief, and so

not living is slowly dying

you used to live, you know?

 

Ice skating

calves and ankles quiver

as the frozen ground stirs,

you’d shiver.

 

Once you exercised a bunch

ate well, shunned the late night munch

made walking stairs an easy task

in Philly, four floors and light lunch

back to high school weight, just once.

 

Trips to Paris

there were three

now a distant memory

shimmering art and structures

tasty bits of Brie and croissants

all blurred by memory’s faults.

 

Instead of being afraid

you took the extra days prepaid

roamed the art and nature alike

became tour guide for new friends’ sake.

 

A novel, never published

stagnant, sitting, not dusted

a memoir of one French vacation

that ended in destruction

of twin towers across the ocean

will you get that tome in motion?

 

Put down the phone and take up pen

eat well, and live your best again

walking, traveling, skating far

and soon transcript will be a star.

 

Love, your youth.

 

– Sandra Johnson, June 25, 2022

 

Chaotic Dog-Eared Books

Chaotic Dog Eared Books

The ring from
your wine glass
left its prominent mark
of red saying

I was here
on your favourite
hardback book

Don’t books that have
stains tell the world
I have lived?

Like chaotic dog–eared
books facing up
towards the sun

where sunflowers
nod their gentle
heads of approval.

The Oak tree
rustles its old leaves
saying don’t worry about such things.

Dove

Your skin so whiter than cotton

Your eyes full of tears

When you are flying near you

You always whisper a new sound so cute

Your heart beats multiple  hours just for me

Your hands you touches me with your fingers tips

Your lips sings a melody wonderfully mys in my ears

Your passion, your every step you make makes me happy. Your mind. Your soul.

The dreams of us. I am thrilled for our love darling. O I am awakened on up that it.

You are my love jones in a song. My Dove.

Darling you,

Hour 6: forgotten

Dear L,

i didn’t know when
you moved houses

a few blocks further
we’d never meet again

not even by chance
but that’s how it was

do you remember
how we guilt-tripped

ourselves every time
we scolded our children

before school time
and how we shared the same

birthday, and our
frustration with our husbands

you remember, don’t you
they told me – when

i came to visit
after your failed attempt

i had heard and so wanted
very much to see you

– that you wouldn’t be
able to stress your body

in any way, but i tried
to convince them

they let me stand
at the ICU window

and told me to wave
but you looked blank

as a freshly white washed wall
my broadest smile couldn’t

reach the darkened areas of your mind
you’d forgotten or chosen

not to remember
our friendship

hope you recover soon,
your rainbow.