The Poetry Marathon

That lively portrait

There’s a portrait

With a new state

Ground is pink valley

Sky is deep cyan

Amidst all a tree with red flowers

For showering petals of love.

That lively portrait!

What’s that meaning

Who can imagine

I can see the lovey heart

Stands up as a tree

Beating continuously

For making paradise.

That lively portrait!

The ground is the dreamy hub

Sky is the limitless ward

Such a stage full of vibrant shades

Crimson flowers are blooming at this state

The fragrance of sweet love

To show all of us-

Make your lively life as the portrait!

 

Mom’s Tattoo

It will be fine

said the son

I have four

you can get one.

 

Mom blinked hard

and tried to look brave.

I could get one

some other day.

 

Come on mom

choose one for you,

just here on your skin

you will love it, too.

 

Mom blinked hard

skin – in – needles and ink

Son, I think I will have to rethink.

And she chose five.

 

 

Hour three

the bees swarm
around their hive
the scouts have located
a new home

they pause midair
for directions
drawing on the scent
of scout pheromones

the bees guide
their old queen
to the new place
keeping her cool and safe

surrounded by her loyal
bees the queen enters
her new quarters
and rests

the busy bees
busier than ever
get to work
making a new honeyhome

City of Stars

Prompts for the Third Hour

 

Night time drive

Through the city of stars.

How is it so

that it floats above the cars.

Would that I could

Make this roadway, to incline.

Drive through the clouds,

and with their street align.

I’m confident

There’ll be a light for me.

Where I can see,

the retrospective part of me.

 

 

 

 

Voice of History

Grand, far too grand
For a person such as me
Uncultured and ill formed
And a sense of inferiority

This music flows through silence
Like a melodic golden river
Echoing from buttressed halls
And making my spine quiver

It sings of strength, direct and poised
Sings of elegant grand homes
But behind it all, I detect a whiff
Of a slight regretful tone

Perhaps its mournful voice
Recalls that times are moving fast
From a time when people truly lived
In moments, not glories past

When the bar had yet to fall
Before what was written for one is now for all
I hear perhaps a mournful recall
Of when somethings were still on a pedestal

For times change, and we must change with them
Tis the curse of living
But I can’t help feeling we leave behind
Some special part, now missing

I hear these notes and feel that maybe
We don’t have to abandon all
Its the shoulders of so many others
That allow us all now to stand tall

12 Ways of Looking at Birds

III.

Hollow boned, feather light

if it weren’t for birds

would we have thought of flight?

 

But look –

Icarus was feathered and bird-winged

And De Vinci’s sketches had a birdness about them.

 

Our flight success is metal and heavy and

spews offal into the air and grinds out

an unnatural roar which

 

Is not like birdsong.

 

Hour 3 – Dance of Two for 3 or More – Text prompt

Dance of Two for 3 or More

I want to write a world for you
And you alone would hear it.
A dance between two people as
The world cannot come near it
The ebb and flow of harmony
The waltz of you and me
A smallish world, to be sure
But exclusive to us two

Exclusive to those two for certain
But all can watch and look upon them
The world can waltz with earnest gaze
And melt a sundrop in moon’s phase
Treading on their silken hem
And pulling at their gemstones
Making it hard to follow when
The dresses tear from ribbons

Ignore them love, it’s just you and me
We dance tonight, and we are free
The stars come down to light our path
With romance and a fantasy’s laugh
The twinkle of the sky
Compares naught to the love in your eyes
Forget the watchers, forget the world
Forget what insults it might have hurled
This dance is just for you and me
This world is our haven, our safety

Poem 3

She is the Sound of the Night Sky

If the
stars could sing
they will have her
golden voice
and

the silver
moon will play the
violin made of wavy
strands from her
ebony hair

With a heavenly music that’s so strong
One will surely love her to the bone
With a heavenly music that’d last nightlong
One will never feel alone

The Past

Do you wish to go back to the past

Where time didn’t fly by so fast

Where things were not so complicated

The time where little things made you sated

 

I don’t.

Prompt Three: The City (NYC)

LOS ANGELES THOUGHTS

Dirty big city  . . .

It shakes . . .

Rattles . . .

Lived there once . . .

Make that twice . . .

It has good points . . .

When it’s not shaking . . .

It’s weather is great!

I’d rather be in New York City,

At least, most of the time.

Exception:

Winter in the city . . .

Has a beauty,

Like no other.

Can be too cold!

Too slushy!

Give me Los Angeles,

Smog and all,

For warmth . . .

Without clanky pipes;

That never come on!

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• Thought LaLa Land was okay (not great).
• Currently Angela Theresa Egic lives in NYC