The Poetry Marathon

4 Wanted and Not Wanted

Roe vs Wade was overturned today

I walked into the break room and found
my coffee pot gone.

Elsewhere a teenager girl finds she’ll have to carry
her father’s baby to term.

We’re back to one hundred years ago.

I walked next door to the coffee shop,
sneaking out of work unseen
to not get caught but
their coffee was weak and I needed caffeine.

She went to a neighboring state
borrowed money for gas, drove all day
and found out she was too far along
but at least she won’t be imprisoned for murder
when she returns home.

A year ago this time,
mass graves were found
of indigenous children killed a hundred years ago
at old residential schools
They were stolen from their parents.
They were wanted and they were not wanted.

Three years ago in Perris California
13 children were found
imprisoned by their parents
in basement cells and
tortured in their house of horrors.
Allowed to eat once a day,
shower once a year
kept chained to their beds.
The foster family where they were sent
after their escape
was arrested and charged with abuse.
They were wanted and they were not wanted.

Children are sleeping in case worker’s offices
because there is nowhere for them to go.
Children are living in the streets,
neglected, hungry and prey.
They are wanted and they are not wanted.

Roe vs Wade was overturned today.

The coffee pot was gone from my break room.

And a girl realizes her only hope to not bare her father’s child
has been taken away

4th hr image prompt: Eternal love

Eternal love!

Who can see?

Who can accept?

Who can realise?

Amidst the forest,

He is still sitting on the chair.

In front , that Piano!

The source of Eternal love.

He was a singer

He loved to play with Piano.

He loved to play within nature’s heart.

Green nature is his pride.

At this point of view,

He could feel the essence of love.

Wow! Eternal love!

With natural vibes.

He couldn’t leave.

He failed to live alone.

He talked with nature’s heart.

He was engaged with abstract art.

Time was passed.

He was no more on earth.

Still his soul was alive,

It helped to restore the tune of love.

That Piano was not fine,

Still it played to scatter ray of heart.

He was sitting as spiritual art,

Though surroundings weren’t as usual.

The eternal love is heard

Now it can see here.

Look at the shabby Piano and chair.

He is no more but the lively opera!

 

 

In One Hundred Years

In one hundred years
We’ll have flying cars
While we live on Mars
Explore the stars
If Elon gets his act together.

In one hundred years
We’ll have equal rights
Won’t that be a sight?
Give the bigots such a fright!
Or am I being optimistic?

In one hundred years
We’ll be free of getting sick
Medical science, that’s the trick
Lets hope scientists get there quick
Cos I’m not going back to lockdown!

In one hundred years
From bunkers we’ll poke out our heads
As we laugh at all the fools who said
That there was no need to fear the thing we dread
That fallout shelters were for idiots

In one hundred years
I’ll not be here
Not that I’m much of a seer
Is there really all that much to fear
I can’t be the first to think it

In one hundred years
Will they remember me?
Will there even be a memory?
More to the point will there even be
Any humans left to do it?

In one hundred years
Will we still fear each other
And condemn all those we should name brother
Or are we doomed to kill one another?
But I live in hope.

Because in the last hundred years
And further back
The human race has an unbeaten track
Of taking a punch and getting right back.
So I guess, I’m not that worried…

(Hour 04) 01.30-02.30am. BOTH PROMPTS combined: 100 years from now & old piano in the forest

old pianos

when i was a girl visiting
my grandparents in Tassie
i came across an old piano
in the forest flaking veneer
like the shoulders of a sunburnt child

there was an old hut nearby
& i wondered if the owners
had been moving the piano
either in or out of their home
(i could never decide which was saddest)

when they just up & left
what could cause them to
abandon something which
was clearly once so precious
why were they drawn away so suddenly

wait! the reason i ask does connect :
will that be all left of our world
in a hundred year’s time — just
old odd bits of junk being eaten
by rain & washed away by chords of wind?

 

In 100 Years, a pantoum

In 100 Years, a pantoum

 

A hundred years from now

Will be no different from today.

Technology will be more advanced,

But the people will be the same.

“Will be no different from today?

You must be joking,” people say.

“But the people will be the same.

Same birth, same strife, same death,” I reply.

“You must be joking,” people say.

“Technology will be more advanced.”

“Same birth, same strife, same death,” I reply.

A hundred years from now.

Rain

1. Prompt 1

The Mumbai Rains are splashing around

Drenching droplets, a pounding sound

Rattling sheets and smoking cars

Shrieking trees and dewy stars

Rippling songs in a humid note

Slipping on streets, a sticky coat

And sometimes a smile

Sometimes a hand

To soften this night

This thunderous band!

This pattering plight where’er I go

The rhythm of life in a pulsing flow

 

 

4. Breathe

Oh good sir,
please help this poor one,
I can’t breathe
it feels so heavy
I can’t see,
it’s so foggy.
It’s hot and humid
I need some air.
Grant me a favour
of a buck or two
so that I can get
a breath of fresh air.
A buck or two,
else I’ll die .

#4

From pen to paper, from the heart to the soul, singing the blues on an old dirt road. I want to whisper sweet nothings on a cliff overlooking the rivers of old.

Hour 4 (2022)- Future Fantasy

 

I climb into a rocket ship for a vacation to the moon

It might take a minute, but I’ll be there very soon.

As I gaze out the porthole, glittering stars I see

The space attendant offers me a drink, and I choose moon tea

A short while later, as we land, on the moon so dark

I gather up my scattered things, and then I disembark.

I make my way into the station, my eyes widen with delight

Who would have thought 100 years ago

We could have made this routine flight?

The Mirror

How do I honor
The dark eyes staring
back in the mirror?
She gave me those eyes
Painted the shade with the blood
Of her ancestors
Yet her story fades
like tear stained words lifted
from the page.

She was considered curious
for her unconventional ways
Eccentric and unusual
Her puzzle piece didn’t seem to fit
As she carried her culture silently
In her heart.

My grandmother’s grandmother,
All I know of her are stories

Echoes of fond memories faded into the background,
And the deep pools of dark eyes
Staring back at me
In the mirror.

Mandy Austin Cook