The Poetry Marathon

Touch – hour 16

I touch feline fur,

and feel the deep purr

it makes my heart whir

then beats in rhythm with her.

 

Holding soft anole

my heat warming its cold

how is it though

they feel no temp at all?

 

Still, they always crawl

and find the warmest hole

created by the fingers

and curls up in a ball.

 

A puppy’s wet nose

tickles my bare toes

and its accidental scratch

brings pain and love both.

 

A baby’s peach fuzz

creates such a buzz

the soft down of hair

like a live teddy bear

and sweetest warm hugs

the epitome of love.

 

The touch of his lips

and a graze at the hips

makes my skin not just happy

but tingling and laughing

with love and rejoicing.

 

– Sandra Johnson, 6/27/21

 

Pause/Not Pause

A glass that stinks of gin

straight from the bottle

or the Juniper berry

wherever Juniper trees grow

next to the pond

where the fish are forced to be huge

so we have more fish to throw

away when the fork scrapes the plate

and fins and heads and scales and eyeballs

hit the top

layer of garbage

that was pushed down

as far as it could go

so yesterday

it was either that

or take it out

on the feelings of the person who deserved it.

Philip V. Coombs 1-2pm

When Death came to Call

She lay in the hospital bed
Looking so small
I had to remind myself
That once she was so tall

Always Vibrant and full of Love
Her heart struggling to beat
Death was coming for her
It was so painful to see.

He walked into the room
Appearing bright as the sun
Her life was now over
Before it had really begun

He ushered her spirit out
As She took her last breaths
And this fast became my
Most hated experience with Death

The new day was dawning
Birds singing their songs
Goodbye to you, Mother
We’ll see you before too long

Petals Unfolding (Hour 17)

A hand reaches to feel the solidity of life beneath it. 
The granite anchor of presence, promise, 
dependable occupancy. 
the awakening flower unfurls, 
a body breathes deep as the dress falls, 
to embrace warmth, widow and widower, 
touching a song inside one another, 
to feel cells thriving beneath our lips, 
a swelling river pouring forth, 
an appreciation of deep energy, 
the romantic corpse of our paralysis, garlanded, 
in a circle of candles, 
on the altar of guilty survivors. 

How sweet is breath!
How lovely the warmth of skin!
How bitter the only offering we can give.
But the heart remembers
The mind pulls through the center
Petals falling
Surrendering to life again.

bridge

gulping sweet liquid air

unable to keep from looking down

I feel like I’m in a

space between this world and the next

 

I can see 1956

and 2098

I can feel my birth and death within

the same blink

 

we are so easily broken

and we build things like bridges

planes

cars

 

We like that we can die at any moment

Life would be no fun than

 

You

You taste like a promise kept.
All you can eat without regret.

You sound like a song unsung
but one desired by everyone.

You feel like home to me
inside your arms

I’m safe and free.

21~12

i once had a dream before the pain

(before the time that you were lost)

when i saw you i melted

every single time

wanting to tell you

asking myself

what is this?

(i knew…)

~Love~

Hour 16 – The Sound of Tea After a Wakeful Night

Glug, glug, glug

the water fills the mug.

Swoosh, splash, plop,

hubby pours it in the top.

Hum, rattle against the metal.

boils the soon-to-be tea in the kettle.

Gurgle, bubble, ease, 

Poured gently over the leaves.

“Tea, my queen?”

he says with a bow and caffeine

Poem 17:  A Tribute to Dorothy Parker “I Can’t Help It”

 

What is this burden I have pursed

I dare claim myself a victim

For I am a woman and I am forever cursed

and I shall not blame you or him

 

I have crawled to, in my drunken whine

for some reward, I do not know

Expecting to be a pet, how low

or planning on you to be leashed as mine

 

When we are little, we are told

Everything, and our puny spirits glowed

and we nodded our stupid heads

The easy path to successes beds

 

Oh what a colossal blunder we have been

I will certainly volunteer

and make myself scarce again

There is no loss to that, no tear

 

I bid you good riddance

but I fear we will meet in circumstance

and go for one of our passion rides

alas, to be carried away by the lonesome tides

 

I drink a toast

As I go to the coast!

In Memory

 In Memory

Papa, Mama, my mentors

You’re gone to your rest

My inner one sinks within me

Whenever it dawns on me

That you’re gone, gone, gone

 

No one makes us laugh

like you do, Papa

No one interjects our tales, Mama

With your type of pointed questions:

“We’re you there”

No one could ask that question

The way you did

 

We haven’t rolled on the floor

with laughter as you both provided

we tried but your sense of humor, each

is not one easy to come by

 

But your legacy lives, Mama

And your legacy is alive, Papa

No, they cannot die

They will not die

For our children remember you firsthand

And so do their friends

You will live in us for generations

Beautiful ones like you will never die