The Poetry Marathon

Weekend Getaway

Weekend Getaway

A picnic blanket spread under the old Oak tree

My hardback spread across my chest as I nap

The smell of sunflowers in the air

My wife knitting with her back against the tree

Plates of cheddar cheese and crackers

Our wine glasses getting frequent use

Letting our thoughts drift off into space

Tomorrow, back on our feet hitting the pavement

Fighting tooth and nail to claw out a living

My satchel bursting with documents and contracts

But today we rest under the old Oak tree.

Hour 5: [dormant chills of night]

dormant chills of night

kiss nocturnal auroras-

glimmering fireflies

Greener Grass

Two doors down on Sundays

You can see a dozen smiles

And in the tavern down the way

A dozen more, or so they say

 

And right next door, the neighbors

Light up fireworks at night

Listen closely, you can hear

Children laugh and people cheer

 

Down the street in April

You see cherry blossoms bloom

A whole house covered so it seems

Like something from a summer dream

 

But does it matter what the view is?

Whether down the street or Rome?

Tell me, is grass greener

If you never leave your home?

2022, Hour 5 prompt

Prompt: a poem with chosen key words.

Cheddar cheese,
You and me,
With the wine glass
under our oak tree…

A secret little hardback

hides a gift
for thee —

One sunflower;
Bright with glee.

Subbing in America through Haiku: Hour 5 (prompt – use 5 words)

 

sunflower peeping

cheddar slice in pavement crack

knitting oaks cast shade

(Text prompt 5th)

My wine glass sits

On a pavement hot

As the sunflower grows tall

I bite my nail

As I sit in a place

Where I see a shaded Oak

But I cannot leave where I am at

For my cheddar cheese sandwich

Has me wishing to be knitting

As a fragrant satchel

Hangs down my hardback

 

Hour 5 – Responsible Parenting – Text prompt

The wine glass rested downside upon a hardback book

Overlooked by some but not by me

I was not stubbornly knitting

Ignoring the world with my head in the sand

I was not a coward.

While mother kept knitting her stupid blanket

I was required to set the oak table.

While she drank and waxed poetic about sunflower seeds

And how useful they are

I did not have that luxury.

My nail chipped as I sliced cheddar cheese

My siblings waiting hungrily

And while I could have just left

Abandoned this life for a satchel and bread

I dashed my dreams for space upon the pavement,

Cared for children in Mother’s place.

I respected the books and hid the wine,

And took the blame when fault was not mine.

Mother K. Mooney may I please go now?

I’m still trapped here beneath the wine glass

Atop the ruined hardback.

(Hour 05) 02.30-03.30am. TEXT PROMPT: write a poem using 5 of the 10 words

halluc:nogen 

my hardback is : too heavy to hold

so i half-dream : of sunflowers : knitting cheddar : cheese satchels : for their favourite gardeners : to keep seeds in

there is no space : on the pavement : for my wine glass . this angers me : more : than it rightly should

if i could nail my protests : to an old oak door : i would

Beginning

I find you printed in black ink on paper in a hardback book on my shelf.
You’re tattooed on my heart filling up all the space.
Please look for me
Find me dancing barefoot on the pavement.
Losing myself in the bottom of a wine glass
I’m a child with my knees stained with green grass
This is only the beginning.

Maybe it tastes a little bit too much like vodka at eighteen.
High on peer pressure and low self esteem.
Nothing to remember and everything still to forget.
Kisses that now when I look back taste like regret.

You can always count on getting older
And Death is a part of life
And Love is just a game
Every roll brings me one step closer to you no matter how I try.

You’re the sunflower stark silhouette against the night sky.
You taste like sunshine at twenty three.
I think I’m kind of someone but still haven’t found me.
I watch the time fly but time is at a standstill in your eyes.
Just like God hand knitting the clouds in the sky.

We can always count on getting older
Death is only a part of life
And all the love before you was only a game
Every move brought me one step closer to you.

Can you hear me even now?
Feeling lost even at sixty-three
This is our story and it’s only the beginning.

prompt #5: home

how the mirror becomes a window

a door into the sky     wings unnecessary

the way I dreamed of flying

soaring miles above the earth below

somewhere that felt like home

a place I never knew until too late

until I held moving boxes

and my hands knew

that this place I had rejected

was bone marrow

was memory

the way you still walk these rooms

how I listen for your breathing

reach for you beside me

and the mirror never shows your face

or mine

only the empty sky