The Poetry Marathon

Trying (for J.B.)

Trying (for J.B.)

The entire time he sets up a strike he strains

eyes closed as if God had forgotten His keys and come back in for them

He paints crosses on his fingers and toenails

I watch the little white crosses while he goes for the pad.

His arm is extended but bent at the elbow

his palm is more of a door-knock fist

he leans in and delivers upon the pad

then jerks back into place

We have worked this strike since the beginning

Since I lined his holy feet up more than shoulder width

his eyes were closed then

but he didn’t hit as hard

He’ll stick with it until the end

training each muscle and synapse

eventually his eyes will be open wide

and with a hit, he’ll disintegrate the pad.

Hour 18 – Muted (text prompt)

Use this image and/ or the line it contains “…just be still, and listen” as a jumping off piece. Full credit goes to Shlokla Shankar.

I was cursed at a young age with

A mouth that spewed fabric whenever I spoke

Muffling my words and leaving me muted

They tried finding the source with an x-ray

Ignoring two flaws

Fabric is invisible

And curses are magic

Stronger than physical science most days.

I tried to explain but choked and sputtered

As they tore the cloth from my lips

I wanted to tell them

Indeed I had tried

But they just…

I devoted years to communication after

Hiding how stunted my trust in them was

I couldn’t just tell them what was wrong

Or let new people  in

I was muted

Until I met someone

Who taught me the spell to quell them

Not a doctor or science, just loving care

“Just be still and listen” she whispered

A frog hopping out

And then I well,

I told my story.

Hour 18: My Plea To You

I have been trying to speak to you of all the things I feel.
I have been trying to share with you the truths that are real.
I have been trying to plead with you to help me to heal.
……..just be still, and listen.
I have wanted to tell you what is on my mind, how I’m going to crash.
I have wanted to convey the dark hole I’m in, my mind is a mash.
I have wanted to shout how I need a friend, please, no backlash.
……just be still, and listen.
I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders.
I feel the futility of my pleas.
I feel the darkness engulfing me.
……just be still, and listen.

hour 18.. just be still and listen

just be still and listen

to your thoughts

undress them

use and abuse them

talk to them

rest with them

play with them

hold them

wear them

hear them

listen

Bellbottoms

Bellbottoms

Hippies of a new age

so confident they’ll share

they replaced the bellbottoms with manifestos

their Kent State never happened

They tried to build their society in Seattle

and opened fire on innocents

I can smell them from here

more false promises.

I Live (Hour 18)

I live in the past years trodden down to memory,
images scattered amongst feelings 
that left off somewhere I never got to finish.
In the rain on the cars
and the shoes on the pavement, 
In music that spells out my bones 
like a familiar expletive. 

Where the church bells hang silent, 
suspended in their lonely towers,
lost beacons of reverence, 
casting down their ancient shadows. 

I live where the people shuffle like insects
scampering to higher ground, 
fleeing the flooding waterways 
that cut through our valley. 

I live In the old springs,
I lived when the paint was new, 
when people still talked out on the sidewalks
and the ginkgo trees reeked of cat urine 
when you passed directly under them, 
and the soup kitchen stayed open 
until after sunset. 

I live in the trampled white blossoms 
and cigarette butts. 
In the movie rental store, 
and the back alley that connected 
to the Irish bar. 
The grease of the fryers 
and the stench of open sewer grates flushed with rainwater. 

City blood is high in iron, 
the metals we inherit by breath and step
Cast anchors of the past that hold heavy to the heart.

Hair

Clear smell of something

Hair

Clean hair

 

Hair on

”I’m going to Vancouver”

First not hunger

feeling in my stomach

 

Clean break

Drove away fast

so fast downhill

avoiding the fences

and

a slow horse

 

Freezing and eyes full of water

Been trying to find the gum I was chewing that day

ever since.

Philip V. Coombs 2-3 pm

With Arms Outstretched

With Arms Outstretched

Do you get it? Can you see it? Go on. Reach out and touch it.

The great darkness is coming. I know, I know, but we’ve earned it.

The least of them we couldn’t even follow. The Third Temple is here.

Not even a week. You know that right? That’s how quick.

No, there’s no time. Your dreams are as dead and empty as they ever were.

Running from it is not an option, the whole world plays a part. Even you.

How do you face a time where there will soon be no time? Faith.

Faith over fear but that only really works for the devout.

It’s so close now, reaching its prophecy out to you.

Feel it on your skin. The ink from the pages, tattooing itself deep.

It’s swallowing you whole, weighing you down, pulling at you with an intensity.

Watch now, watch them ascend the Mount, with all their holiness, watch them start it.

Open your eyes. Hold out your arms. Play your part. There’s nothing else to do.

Pause to Reflect

Ode to Nemo

A little guy with a big heart.

Fourteen years and never apart.

A koi, not a tuna nor a trout.

He finally said, the pond, it’s time to get out.

A long life but it could have been more.

But that’s what happens when fish come to shore.

Nemo  2007 to 2021

Sadly missed