The Poetry Marathon

4th hr text prompt: The vision

From this time I will not cry.

I’m making my mind.

I will go for a time travel,

From this stage to 100 years later.

That is the vision-

To accomplish my mission.

3022 year will be adorable one.

There will be definitely a new era.

By the time traveller,

I finally go there.

When I come to earth,

There’s a magical mart.

Android peoples are everywhere.

They are enjoying their Iives.

By using the synaptic system,

Nano technology within human shell.

Is that the human zone?

No — not at all.

All are robots.

They control every defective part.

There’s no limitation.

There’s no pain.

There’s no expectation.

Is that the real essence of life?

I’m the only one person,

Who came from past world.

They capture me as an enemy.

They make their vision so clear.

Pristine earth was so clumsy.

There were so many limitations.

We have conquered all,

By using microchip as real vision.

 

Hour 4: Prompt 4: Longing for a better world

100 years ago, I never would have thought that we would be exactly where we started

Dreams of new Beginnings were something I held onto for so long

Now I just look back and wonder how did we get this way

How did we fail so effortlessly as a species to never figure out that we needed BETTER

A better life for ourselves

A better life for our children

A better way to handle what the universe throws at us, without taking 100 steps back into time.

 

Does Nature Take Sides?

Sometimes the unfortunates
have the finest views,
clouds rolling in a distant valley,
a hawk swooping down on green meadow,
the rich man gazing out on rooftops
and opportunities.

It isn’t nature who decides
who lives in the wild,
who lives in the penthouse.

Chance and weather conditions
may choose the tornados path,
but humans build their homes
on fault lines.

In Afghanistan, a 6.1 earthquake.
Mudslides bury the living and the dead.

In Oklahomaa, a 5.8 temblor
tumbled chimneys,
loosened ceiling tiles in classrooms,
shut down businesses for repairs,
cracked my tile floor.
No one died.

It wasn’t nature, but circumstances.

Perhaps it’s your lot in life
to live in your own space, among old trees.
Maybe you’re in a refugee camp,
dependent of the kindness of strangers
and the whims of an autocrat.

Nature is ruthless,
but she can’t take all the blame
for human choices,
for economic circumstances,
for the damage the powerful can wreak
on the powerless.

post #4: piano man

play me a tune, mr piano man ~

         with apologies to billy joel

 

this is the music I hear at 3 a.m.

leafy          sticks and twigs

the piano a ruined instrument

but still attempting music

notes lift dusty from the keyboard

broken into fragments: a quarter note

becomes 1/16, a whole note just a half

time means nothing now

the pianist exhausted in their chair

wrist extended     broken into pieces

of a life      reaching for music

still    and nothing they can hear

but I hear it    curling through dreams

dust mote notes sifting through sleep

leaf and twig and splintered wood

what I know so well

 

Out of Paris – a haibun (hour 3)

Once again, Paris is engulfed. It started with a nice hotel in the 13th. Only the customers were the catalyst, not fire. The attitudes, mentality, crimes going off like time bombs, all taking hold of les medames et monsieurs here. This beautiful city of love is now hideous, destroyed by hate. People are anxious, arrogant, angry, full of animosity, rude like wasps stinging for no reason. All of this chaos is rolled into a ball, aimed to strike any structure. But it started with his, and BOOM, it made him decide. I want out. I need an escape, away from all this. As if by magic, maybe fate, he found a flat … outside. And now he’s free, albeit partially.

He’s left Paris now

connected only by trains

work is the only flaw.

 

– Sandra Johnson, June 25, 2022

A Rose Petal Crown

A Rose Petal Crown

 

We splash and play,

fun’s little way

of bringing us

close together.

 

Swan towels lay,

naked as jays

and cling as one

in our hot tub.

 

Bubbles unite

what tried to fight,

jets soothe away

space we create.

 

A candle’s bright

flame, guiding light

makes our hearts glow,

red as petals.

Hour 3: Pay the Price

Fingers through his hair, 

Spare me a thought 

In your dying garden, 

‘Tend to our flower

Sometimes’,

I run a line through your forehead 

Reading the love you don’t speak 

Seek, my eyes when I try 

Do pry, 

Peek in through the window, will you? 

the rose is still there, in lieu  

Of your heart

‘Miles, so many miles’ apart

Tear it if you must, 

Trust

me, I enjoy putting it back together 

Clasp our hands

And tether the string, 

It tugs at my heart too much anyway

I pay,

The price of loving you

Collect the change and 

‘She flew’.

4th poem – 4th hour – The Wise Children (Text prompt)

Prickled consciousness

filtered into metal plates on hippy highways of intergalactic travel on the breath spin of a happened humanity lost to AI gods

On another dimension, the wise children have parted with form into ascendant glory illuminus; cast to virgin shores of better lift and power; the subtle sighs of truth watching her alternate lose vessels to soul suckling tech-accord but well away that the reality be subsumed without consequence

in these tiny steps from now

the chaos of beingness rages

as every star is caught up in its own glow

save, the wise children who keep the one picture

the wise children, who keep the one flow.

2022 Poetry Marathon, Hour 4

From the hour four prompts

(more…)

Prompt 4, hour 4_ Ngozi Andrew_ like leaves in the dry season

Like leaves in dry season

We fall in love.

Sometimes you fall in mud

Sometimes you fall into water

Some times you fall into fire

Sometimes you fall in green grass

Where beautiful flowers grow.