The Poetry Marathon

Poem No. 8. Nature Heals

Nature Heals

We do not know enough
About how nature heals
Trees protect our climate
Give us life and new cures
We are still ignorant of truths
Such as photo-synthesis
It shows us trees talking to trees
Warning them about disease
To stay healthy and safe.

When a tree is hit by lightening
It feels the trauma and it’s body
Shakes and shivers, feels the pain
Let us preserve trees, they are life
Let us nurture them and hold them
And hug them and respect them
They have much to give and teach us.

Poem No. 7 A Miracle Baby

A Miracle Baby

My grand daughter Laksha
Is a Miracle Baby
Her mother had a miscarriage
She was getting cleaned with a curatage
A wise nurse stepped forward
Tested her first and heard a faint
Heartbeat and shouted stop.
When she was born full term
I carried her home with pride..
She is beautiful and bright
Studying International Relations
At a famous university
Wants to go and work in Japan
When I look at her and think
LIFE IS A MYSTERY!!

Poem No. 6 The Bougainvillaea Tree

Poem No. 5. A Qawwali Concert

A Qawwali Concert

Once I went to a Qawwali Concert
Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan and his Gharana
Sang Sufi music
The singers and music became one
They rocked, they danced, they clapped
Nodded their heads in unison
As they repeated the same refrain again and again.
They were possessed and mesmerised
The music reached such dizzy heights
With drumming and clapping and the tabla drum
We all became one – singers and listeners
In unison – dancing and swaying in unison
I stood up and danced, an eternal dance
The music took my soul to directions
I did not know. No I, was left we were all one
Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan opened doors
To a world when all were equal and all were one
It was many years ago but I often wish
And long to go and enter the Sufi dancing world!!

————-

Gharana is a special set of music family who perform music together. *

Heatwave, shattering records in Canada! How’s everyone else doing?

My internet went down before I could post my last poem. I sent in the poem to the email for the marathon as soon as I saw it hadn’t been posted. Fortunately it was only the one poem because my area had a lot of power outages, even though many were brief. I had written to the marathon email the next day and I added it on the blog today (hopefully I’ll be counted as finished by the algorithm. I think I’ve taken part in every marathon except the very first one. I did last year’s but I didn’t find the link in time to register so I did offline. I was thinking of uploading the poems anyway because I found that I missed the community.
Doing the marathon on your own is a different experience too. There aren’t easy to access props and it takes a lot of willpower not to cheat just a little XD But I did it!
Whether or not I post last years poems here, I have enough poems to do another book of poetry and this will be my third book of poems that are just my poems! Marathons have been amazing, I have branched into writing more and more marathons including novels and a year of poems, all sorts of things. I’m grateful to the organizers for bringing this idea about and organizing it year after year; it’s a lot of work.
We are having a lot of power outages still and restaurants and grocery stores are closed because so much food has spoiled and equipment has been damaged by the power surges. I hope everyone is okay, It’s scary here!
I’ve been writing a yearly ‘Journal of a Plague Year’, this year was entitled, ‘Journal of a Year in Chaos’… and it has been more than living up to its name.
It’s supposed to get up to 49 degrees around here which is close to 120, I think. Fruit is cooking on the trees and it’s terrifying. I know it’s hotter in other places. but we’ve never seen weather like this here.
I’m still writing a poem a day since the marathon. How is everyone else doing since the marathon? What’s everyone up to?

Rolling blackout poem ‘addition’

Marathon
VCS

Waking Up
Is hard to do
With images dancing in my mind
Mingling into dreams
I should have a coffee
Or go for a walk
But right after this
I’m all done this run!
It’s called a marathon,
But it’s something else as well,
It’s reaching deep inside
And pulling out our minds ideas
Of heavens, hells and incidentals
Like a department store
Of hopes, dreams and fears
Writing a poetry marathon
Exposes more than just ‘feels’
I’m wide awake now
I want to do it again
But if it’s all just the same
I may sleep for the day
Every time I run
I want to do it again
It bursts all the blocks free
The words are never
Ones that I’ve planned
Now that we’re done
Pat myself on the back
Most of all
Write again after a nap!

The Internet hasn’t been great for the past few days. I was told it was okay to add this. It took me until now to get back online on my computer! All poems were finished on time and from what I can see all the others fortunately did upload (very fortunately because I only kept a duplicate of a few of these. This one has been in my clipboard ever since the marathon! Please note I was commenting right up until a few minutes before it was time to write last poem)

Voids: 1

When I’m bored.

I look into the void…

or voids.

 

What peers back

are 4 eyes

of pure curiosity,

of unconditional love

and…

 

a maniacal madness.

 

2 jade eyes

flicker back at me.

 

2 coal embers

appear from another void.

 

Both look at each other,

4 small triangles twitch to

unheard sounds.

 

Did they hear my

silent plea…

for entertainment?

 

“Hey, kiddos.”

 

Bottle green eyes

kid tilts his head to the left,

his partner in crime

tilts his head in the opposite direction.

 

“Meow.”

“Meeeeeoooow!”

 

At last all they wanted was food.

Did You Know?

Did you know

that the Earth can bleed too?

 

Did you know

just like us

the Earth can cries?

 

It cries like a mother

loosing her child in

a crowded event.

 

It bleeds

in a way you can’t tell.

When we dig for riches

that cause greed

and blood is spilled.

 

Those forgotten souls

with noting but

pain

comes back

to scream in the wind.

 

All this,

is a message.

That the Earth

is more than

money.

Untitled

23 fires.

23 birds of flames

23 dragons let loose.

 

Each blazing a path

as they devour everything

and leave a scorched trail.

 

People chased from homes

to take refuge in a nearby towns.

 

“Is this Hell?”

“AZ in Hell.”

These words were spelled to truth.

 

Now prayers are being said

to bring water.

We pray for rain in a time of drought

to quench the forest’s thirst.

 

As it does,

in small amounts

like someone accidently

tied a knot in the sky’s hose.

 

It came down

as it teased us,

like an older brother that

pretends to throw her sister in the water.

 

We cry,” where’s the rain!”

 

Finally our cries were heard.

A shower from Heaven came down,

as is God held back

all the rain

in a plant a waterer.

Hour 19 Poem 19

My hair I whip it,

Bonnet full of variance,

Curly, coily, braids.