The Poetry Marathon

Burning Tree

The Tree of Life is ablaze tonight.
A hot rage has been ignited
Women’s rights are being stripped away
by a system so wrong sighted

In the name of God and “unborn children,”
they are stripping women of their choices.
but this is clearly a hostile power grab
to try and silence women’s voices.

And we will not go silently,
nor accept this as our fate.
We won’t be reduced to chattel
nor be consumed by hate.

We will awaken our inner warriors
to combat the powers that be.
As the birthplace of all people,
we must fight to keep wombs free.

We must fight with all our power
that we can burn down this tree.

Melody of Inspiration #3

Repeated sonorities of my existence reassures me, my world is full of promise.
The melody of inspiration comes with the rhythm of syncopated strokes of time.

Frequencies moving through time are the notes, I hear to invoke my passion for life.
The overtones of humanities song is written with anticipation of peace.

Relax with the beat that flows as crescendos rise, occasion for higher vibrations.
Life is a gift and with gratitude syncopation will make you tap your feet; tip your hat.

Move, modulate, vibrate with expressions of sincere hope of a shining night.
Lift, love, leap into the dance of forgiveness, elevate victorious bliss.

Contrapuntal melodies inspires like the heart beating to tunes of harmonic space.
The silence counts too, with out it becomes noise. Every stroke of the cello’s bow.
Bows to it audience with ears of submission.

So it is my way to understand. I to have a place in this world.
The melody of inspiration is how I hear the music of my soul.

Hour Three: black beans

Haricots noirs
Pois chiches
They sit quietly
On the shelf
Waiting to be
Turned around
And then someone
To be turned on
By chick peas
And black beans.
Smaller tins
Might have been
Better when they
Were bought
Back in two
Thousand and
Seven.
Sept.

HOUR TWO ~ The Brightest Evening Of The Year

THE BRIGHTEST EVENING OF THE YEAR

 

“Between the woods and frozen lake   

The darkest evening of the year.” ~ Robert Frost

 

known only by the names we call ourselves

there was a moment across these months

stretching days across the loom into weeks

slowly, more known, we come into focus

 

our eyes adjust to any light they find

from solstice to solstice woven across the dimness

 

we, too, stopped to see the frozen lake

there was blinding light as the snow swirled up

cyclones across the ice, whipped up in wind

swept across like my joy when I see your face

 

may we always pause in breathless wonder of beauty

may we keep our promises across so many dark nights

to be known to ourselves, finally, beyond any naming,

or any darkness

or any light

Master10am

Standing in front of the
mirror in my room fluffing
the hair, taking in the outfit
I have chosen for this night

Leather pants, Boots with
a nice heel-
Dark red blouse, laced up the
front
Perfect for tonight

I can’t wait- This will be a wonderful
Night-
I finally will get to submit
to my love

Hurrying along the sidewalk
the sun’s going down
quicker and quicker it seems
I have to get where I’m going
I’m expected to be prompt

There it is-
my destination
and not a moment too soon
I was almost late
He wouldn’t appreciate that

Knocking once
twice
The door opens slightly
revealing a gentleman in
jeans and black sweater

He appears normal and laid back
but I know better-
He’s cold and calculating
and sadistic-
but I like it

Prompt, as expected
you know what’s expected of you
I like that
Come

I follow him through the dining room
other people sitting around casually
smirking, knowing what’s going to happen
tonight

downstairs to our room we continue
down the long, dimly lit hall
This used to give me the creeps
But now I crave it- beg for it often

Sit on the couch
I’ll get you some wine
do you have what we discussed?

Of course I do
I set it on the table
where you would expect it
to be

good girl- here
I’ll look it over and get
back to you in a moment
Sit quietly

Everything is in order
Are you sure about this?
Once it’s done-
We can’t go back
I’m sure

The contract has been
signed and I have received
my gift from him
I know what’s expected of me
Now we can begin

how many times did it take you?

how many times did it take you? 

going back / rewinding, uncoil the tangles / smooth the sharp edges of the world that scraped away at me / made me vulnerable // the hardest part was acknowledging / I had been allowing it for so long // hiding from anyone / who knew // a tiny fire shone / in the eyes of children / who loved me // lighting the path to freedom 

Grandpa Cello (Hour 3)

I hear grandpa cello speak

of life’s travails

Of faraway places through hills and vales

Of stolen kisses and broken hearts

As love finally departs.

 

Life’s a crescendo,

Sometimes a counterpoint-

But what’s the point-

If two hearts have become one

And this battle of life is not won?

 

 

 

Hour 3 Writing Prompt – Write about the image given

Understanding Change

 

Magnificent, isn’t it?

Picturesque; fields combed, each blade in it’s place

Tree plush and tilted at a pleasing angle to the eye of most of the onlookers

Bluest skies embracing the edges of our view, with the most careful placement of each cloud

Colors picked with intent and purpose, pleasing to some, contrived possibly to others

Would you dare venture into this masterpiece

Or would you fear the disturbance would cause change to it’s beauty

But change must come, it’s inevitable they say

Maybe you shy away leaving it to the next brave soul, or being or element from the heavens

A curious child or gentle wind wanting to explore what might be perched in the boughs of the crimson topped tree

A flock of birds darting about those blue skies or a wayward kite hanging in the cloud’s billows before it’s departure

Beyond the landscape searching for another perfect horizon

Trying to find their fishin’ hole, just over that hill, young anglers bound through the perfectly combed blades

Anxious to begin their story, their canvas, not concerned with the intent and purpose of the canvas

Time changes, colors fade, limbs and leaves fall, grasses go dormant and loose their joyful hues

Skies darken with snow or rain or clouded obstructions of the sun………..it’s change, it’s inevitable.

But beauty never dies, it circles back, eager to please those who return and those just beginning their adventures

 

 

 

 

Poem 3, hour 3_ Ngozi Andrew

I got a dirge stuck on my head

And it is not a happy feeling

A thousand mourners marching through the lines ,

On the cornrows my mother painstakingly made.

Of wool from the from the akwete weavers

Who weaved gay palmfronds on a happy soil.

And royals having their elephant ride.

And the great blacksmiths of eri, the proud craftsmen of old.

Giving ancient orders that the iron obeys.

The land was happy and rich and proud.

But now it hides its head in shame.

The akwete weavers now dye their wool in blood.

Well the indigo wells did dry up and the rivers stopped.

And the blackmiths fire is covered in ash.

Little wonder this dirge remains unstuck,

And the mourners won’t give up their perpetual march,

On the cornrows my mother painstakingly made.

 

DogSpeak #3 Daily News

DogSpeak #3 Daily News

You’ve got your newspaper
now get my leash, coffee for you,
water for me, and let’s go get my news.

We’re going to the park!
No rain today, sunny skies
no fleas, no flies, and friends all around.

Sniff, sniff
Charlie was here
sniff, sniff
and so was Scout but now they’re gone.
See, you take too long getting ready.
No one here cares what you’re wearing.

Oh, big boy Xerox had bbq chicken last night.
Lucky him but I had french fries, maybe just
a little too much salt. Can I have some water
please, thanks.

Ok, gotta run and play!
All my foodie friends are here –

Hershey and Ruffles, Klondike and Snickers,
Snapple, Munchkin and Keebler, and that giant
Gumball, though he is round and sweet.

We’re at the dog park –
play play play
sniff sniff sniff
what a wonderful life!

A ball, a stick, my favorite – a frisbee
all shapes and sizes, all colors and breeds,
all joyous together.
Hey humans, are you taking notes?

Ok, tired now. Home, please.
Bed. Sleep.
Will you carry me?
Sniff sniff
here, you need some kisses.

~ J R Turek