The Poetry Marathon

Gods of the Sea

POEM 19

The beach where they stand is not holy ground but it’s close enough.

Orange sand matches these great rock gods by the sea.

Water is  powerful yet it has not worn them down in a million years

They control the clouds twirling over their heads.

They are shrouded in a spritzing mist. It obscures them sometimes.

Great and granite boulders jutting from the shallow edge of the sea.

They sing softly like whales or did I imagine that they do?

Miles wide and God only knows how deep they sink into the sea floor.

I think brave boys used to dive from the ones farther off the shore.

They are Guardians and protectors with their striated sides marking their time

on earth, showing their age. Ancient and true does not tell the compete story.

They hold secrets and stories from eons ago.

Sleep Placeholder

Night snakes into itself
and we sleep in its coil.

Folds of moon clouds
cocoon the sky.

Our dreams are silky strains
that roll in tides.

Self Portrait

Leisure walking is a pastime. It pleasures me. Clears my mind. Frees my spirit. Lets me roam free without hinderance. Hate encumbrances.  Not on talking terms with copywriting. Talk on national radio. Write syndicated column for decades. Like indoors like outdoors. Do not mix the two. Can live in a house and not see the sunlight for a week or two. Travel with wife. Always. She’s not available? Travelling impossible. Like to drive. See the countryside. Attend funerals. Report my mortality. Read books. Touch countries I haven’t visited. Check places to visit. People to meet. Things to do. Things to abstain. Alcohol. Ditto smoking. Ditto drugs. Ditto a night stand. Happy in church. Spiritual exercise calms my spirit. Calls me to Him. Guides me to Him. If caught in any place, that is it. Quiet music inspires. Loud music distracts. Needs are few. Clean room. Fruits and food. Books. Movies. Plan to change the world. One mentee a day. Writing non-fictions. To publish will be my day. Young. Would increase. Acquire more knowledge. One day, will share that knowledge with thousand mentees in a day.

Ocean spirit

I am fluid, adapting, changing,
Between the shores of life and death,
Restless, birthing waves, eroding
Cliffs, slowly grinding stone to sand.

I have deep depths where you may find
Fantastic fish of every kind.
I play in the shallows, i ride the white foam
Gently I carry many fishermen home.

I throw up great ships, tumble them down
My titanic slopes.
I clasp to my bosom the sailors that drown.

I wear sun-sparkles over robes of blue-green,
The full moon covers me with a silver sheen.
But exuberant at high tide, or despondent at low,
I am confident that i truly know
My unchanging role
As immortal soul.

Self Portrait

There’s a large freckle under my left eye

that I would wipe at

for hours

trying to clean the “dirt” off my face

 

My right front tooth has a chip in it

from when I tried to use a butter

knife

as a toothpick

 

I had tattoos splotched on my arms

they were almost all impulse

decisions

that I now question

 

My hairline is the same as my grandmother and her mother

an isosceles triangle patch nustled on the left side of

my scalp

that has never grown hair

 

I start each day cursing myself for not waking up earlier

and end the night with deja vu

a strict skincare regime

and writing five pages in my journal

 

There is always so much I want to do during the day

that I never get around to it

and even though I check off some of my “to do’s”

I linger on the “did not’s”

Self Portrait- Prompt 19

Imperfections
are noticeable first

Beauty isn’t a requirement
it was a temporary perk

one now discounted
as looks invade
fragility
everything
is magnified
here

I have
always struggled with my body
even then I saw myself
bigger than I was
breast and feet size
made me stuff and shrink

the way my bone stuck out in the center of my chest
made me want to cover up

my mother learned this
of me

I can barely see
without glasses
even blind imperfections
remain magnified

she wanted me to believe something else

There is always a gold lining
in disappointment
in body
in personal journeys

Getting right
isn’t the end of my ambition
parts have to accept these emotions
in order to live
to thrive

I learned to avoid mirrors
take scarce selfies
and work more on my inside

Outside is only surface

the light from within
is what lives on

If It Were Me

If it were me I would be;

The northwest side of a house.

Where I could shade

From the intensity of a noonday south

And the guard myself from the

overly dogmatic eastern past.

 

If it were me I would be:

a tree on top of a mountain.

Where I could stand alone and see

The city encroaching

But know it will never reach my deep-seated roots.

 

If it were me, I would be.

An ancient Sanskrit encyclopedia.

Where I could store for young people

All the lost secrets of the past, the prophetic visions of the future,

And how to live life best in the present moment.

 

If it were me, I would be.

The moment in time when it all began.

When everything was new.

And there were no old secrets.

No need to lie or hide the truth from the light of day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Along The Cliff’s

She walks alone
the cliff so high
Waiting and watching
the glowing sky
Footprints below
along the shore
The waves crashing
hungry for more
Where the sea and
the sky meet
The sun begins to
take it’s seat
If not today
maybe tomorrow
Or will she always
be alone in sorrow
Shall he come
home to her
How much more
to endure
The days, the years
that passed
The sea stretched further
he eyes cast
Lost at sea
so she was told
She still waited
while growing old
Even in death
they see her still
The lady in white
waiting for her Will

Who Am I?

Hour 11, Prompt 19, Year 2021

Telling stories with data and stimuli
Has always been my jam
Ever since I was a little child

Sitting on my front porch
The thing I love to do the most is
Observe, long and wide and hard
Read data – numerical or abstract
Yield thoughts, then words, then sentences, then prose
Then I exit my mind and find my voice through
English seminars at school
Local or national writing contests
Little, intimate dinner parties
Executive presentations at work
Reaching who I can, through data-driven storytelling

Sleeping on the climbers

Sleeping on the climbers,

Seems to be happier.

But,it cannot be fair.

I thought it for a dozen times,

But,it vain.

Thousands of lichens around it.

It has given a beautiful shape.

And,the sweet smells of

The colorful flowers.

The rise of the snow

Falls on it,

And seems to be a nature scene.

Sparkling stones under it,

And the army of ants

Hiding here and there.

Songs of the birds,

Give the picnic fun.

Blow of wind,

Makes nice to sleep.

Sleeping on the climbers,

Seems to be happier

And, dozen of things to enjoy.