The Poetry Marathon

Prompt Two

 

to be stewards of this planet and her inhabitants…

of easy wind and downy flake[1]
that is my hope for our world’s sake
to face a winter we can take
and in its promise, a future make

where all the words that glitter, are gold;
no need for goods to be bought and sold.
where we move beyond rules and states of old
and in our hands gather the gifts of this globe –

to hold each other, no matter our colour
to raise up our hearts, not flags, as honour
to listen and hear the earth’s faintest murmur
so that we can protect our greatest curator

to be stewards of this planet and her inhabitants

[1] From Robert Frost’s poem, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Homage to Frost: A Snowy Evening – Hour 2

A Glösa created the first stanza of Frost’s poem

 

I’m headed out into the snow

A moonless night, as home I go.

Firs and pines all laden white;

whose woods these are, I think I know.

 

I muse this land belongs to Joe –

a man I’ve never cared to know.

He’s never seen from year to year.

His house is in the village though.

 

Alone at night, I have no fear

that he might suddenly appear.

He’ll be abed in his home, so

he will not see me stopping here.

 

I’ll linger midst what trees here grow,

as feathery flakes blow to and fro.

He’ll never know I paused tonight

to watch his woods fill up with snow.

An Unbroken Dream

Where lies a feverish unbroken dream

Not here, in this twisted rowdy land

I cover my eyes to the howls and shrieks

Tugs on my body beg me to turn away

And listen to boresome tales from morons

Hungering for money for their shiny things

And eyes to see them bask in a vapid glow

I strain, push to exit the heaving mob

The fray threatens to drown passions

I hold them up, letting them light the way

So easy to give in to the bleating sheep

But I have promises to keep.

 

Last line from Robert Frost, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” from The Poetry of Robert Frost, edited by Edward Connery Lathem.

Copyright 1923, © 1969 by Henry Holt and Company, Inc., renewed 1951, by Robert Frost.

 Reprinted with the permission of Henry Holt and Company, LLC.

DogSpeak #2 Hour 2

DogSpeak #2

You sleep half as much as I do
which is still not enough but
when I wake for the first time,
no matter what the clock says,
it’s time to get up.

Get up.
I have to go out.
Get up.
Now!

And finally, you get the message.
Trudge down the steps in the dark,
unlock the back door, hold it open
and I bound out like joy is tickling
my feet. Ahh, so good. And then,
tired, I curl up on the deck to fall
fast asleep. I need my 14 hours.

You yawn at the door, see me
do nothing important; you get huffy
and tell me to go do my business.
Sleep is my business and I don’t care
where. As though I need to know,
you tell me it is one in the morning.
Yeah, so? I stretch, get up and race
you to your pillow. I win.

But you push me over, grumbling
about your alarm set for seven
before punching your pillow and
falling into snoreland.

We do this several times a night
until you decide to ignore me. Not
advisable.

Trust me. Before you lumber
mumbling off to work, you’ll be
pulling out the carpet cleaner.
And then I’ll have nine blissful
hours of sleep. I’ll miss you but
have a nice day!

~ J R Turek

Between the Woods and Frozen Lake – Hour Two

“Between the woods and frozen lake…” Robert Frost, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, line 7.

 

Between the woods and frozen lake
A figment in the snow
A foreign sign found at daybreak
What is it? I don’t know
I ponder should I take a look
Or simply leave it be
A mystery near the little brook
So near and dear to me

Alas, I muster courage
A strength from far beyond
To saunter down the path ahead
Beside the frozen pond
And gaze before this mystery
For any form of sign
Of origins or history
For this figment of mine

As I inched slowly nearer
I saw a speck of brown
An outline drawing clearer
Amid the snowy down
Alas, it was a bottle
With writing worn and faded
An older scrawl-like mottle
Obviously quite degraded

I wonder how it got here
And then I wonder more
It surely held a story
I would like to implore
And so, I grabbed the figment
Packed tightly in the snow
With its brownish amber pigment
To see what it may know

No notes nor scraps of paper
I find no signs at all
Except one odd bright blue marking
With a number to call
I quickly jot the number
And give the place a ring
Where a mid-aged man would answer
Explaining the whole thing

“Ten years, I lost my Mother
To that bottle in the snow
I wrote my number on it
So maybe one would know
Not only had she struggled
But alas, she also lived
And was loved by oh so many
With a lot more love to give.”

I hung up and leaned forward
This gift had been for me
I poured my bottle down the sink
And walked beyond the tree
Returning where the bottle’d been
And placed it where it was
So it was there, left to be seen
By one needing some cause

The figment changed my life that day
My world is better since
And when I see the snow, I pray
Then, through my tears, I wince
For there are many struggling still
I hope someday they’ll find
The courage or the sudden will
In that figment of mine

Second Thought

• A black pot of vultures spiral

Below the cabinets they sit there

In darkness dusty underneath England

Like rotor blades chopping on through

Vaporize stars

Drys as the sand burns hot

Your bones weaken or stiffen

A slip off of words you said

Needle of an eye passes

In June a ebony eagle eye watching over you

Sharply like a knife cutting off the edges

Pray and praise with anew song

That humble you still you wait

While the time turns

Notes to read

Gravy on many sounds approaching, and picket flute amaze with a tone in this room out loud to last until the last song played low

A freshly remixed in groups to wine in unity

Hero from the 1900’s of

A harvest and crops hues given

Likeliness of spoken words with a heart touches you

Ebony to walk on water

Pinky lilies without bubble bees scented on off

Trees standing still in front of you unbelievable

Smiles from the sun that shines mango orange down on earth ground we walk on

Elect of an army of God’s messengers

Reflections of his images

Shown in a mirror brighter like the sun

 

Hour Two Turned Over – The Supreme Court of the United States Reverses Roe V. Wade Mary Pecaut

HOUR TWO –      Mary Pecaut

TURNED OVER

Just us. Above it all – 

stratus streaks white the sky

From our vantage on the ledge

a collective gaze to the poor

pavement below

reveals the many flights and floors

holding us at the edge. Right

here at this precipice where precedent

defrocks the rule of law

those robed by presidential flaw

surely know when justice fails it falls. 

Hour 2 – Spider Plan – Image Prompt

Do you think I’m the kind of person

Who has a plan and makes it happen?

When weaving a spider’s web, do they think it out?

Or do they just start walking, while leaking

A fine gossamer line from end to end of a corner

Or across two branches.

They can’t perceive the world like we do

They’re far too small to see it.

I doubt they know what branches are

Overwhelmed by scale.

 

I get that I’m not a spider

And see more than shadows moving

Through the lights of the world

But I really wasn’t thinking

When I climbed this high

I just felt a bit compelled

I just wanted to feel the sky.

See the world far down below

And feel the breeze run through my skin

Now I’m stuck above it all

Spider man they call me

But I can’t shoot webs

I can’t even jump a gap

I just stick to walls.

Bitten by a gecko

Who got the spider bite

A hybrid’s hybrid is what I am

And it’s really not worth the hype.

So if you’d please just get me down

I’d be forever in your debt

I’m not the kind of person who plans

And makes it happen

Just a sticky-fingered nerd who saw a wall and said

Yeah, I’ll just climb that.

Hour Two: Winter Solstice

Winter Solstice

(from Stopping By Woods on A Snowy Evening by Robert Frost)

 

I walk – between the woods and frozen lake

On the darkest evening of the year.

 

The snow – compact, slippery.

My steps cautious.

 

I walk between two worlds now.

The known and . . . the yet

to be determined.

The memories and the hopes.

 

In this year ahead – may I dance

with abandon. May I

swim in ocean waters.

May I remember, each day,

to notice the moment

the ice will thaw and

the earth will awaken.

prompt 2: dark and deep

dark & deep ~

         with apologies to Robert Frost

the woods so lovely

conifers unfamiliar to a prairie dweller

tall spires of green as deep

as night        as dark as grief

I look for you among the trees

turn to catch a shadow

movement startled as I search

not you        not you

radcliffe hall spoke of the well

the well of loneliness

how she could not love

the partner of her choice

and still I love you, searching

listening to the empty rooms

the chambered heart

silence dark  and deep