The Poetry Marathon

Poem 19

Playful predator begs for attention.

Whiny and responsive, he demands

for his creature comforts. Like a fly 

begging for escape through that damn 

window. He demands for any kind of 

stimulation he can get.

 

The thinker indulges the predator’s impulses,

Leading with a great red frown. His finger

Guides him atop wood tables for writing and 

amongst teal plush for lovers to be loving.

 

Appeased, the predator lays beside me,

breathing his slow fiery breaths. 

Recuperating with eyes so bright and 

focused. That the thinker rushes to

Take time to think once more.

Before the predator begs for attention

again.

Perspective

She’s always talking to people,

strangers in the street,

in the shops,

or at the station,

on her runs.

 

She meets them with a smile

and says good morning – every damn time.

A lovely day!

Good day!

Hello!

 

Who does she think she is?

WHAT IS WORK (hour xiii)

Work is not about the midnight calls
It’s not about the late evening client parties
It’s not about the pillar-to-post dashes on public holidays
It’s not about stealing worship presence on Sunday mornings

Work is not about the nightclub rendezvous
It’s not about killing effort and exalting results
It’s not about grave-bound multitasking that defiles time principles
It’s not about being a parent by proxy

Work is bliss as play is
It is to create and see creation flourish
It is to write and see words in command
Work is a smile, like a fruitful journey and not an avoidable end

*Inspired by the text prompt

Hour 17 prompt

EDUCATION

Transfer of knowledge happens even in birds and bees
Mother bird teaches the child how to fly from the trees
The lion teaches the cub how to hunt
Even pigs teach their piglets how to grunt

Knowledge sharing is known as education
This happens from the previous generation to next generation
Education is needed to survive
Then only even the bee can build a hive

Man has made education happen only through schools
Acquiring only booking knowledge can make us look like a fool
Nature is our biggest teacher
That only guides our soul and every other creature

BY SHREYA SURAJ

Last days at [insert location]

   Last days at [insert location]

 

The only memory the almost broken

Sewing machine holds is of my fathers

Feet as they sync into it to weave my mothers

Yarn.so we let the machine stay, we take another

Look at the room, everything seemed to have

Given out its color of originality.

The dwarf guava tree withers strangely

So most times we do not sweep the

Exiled leaves, we let them rot to the ground,

We let them rot to silence —to sand.

My mother would then ask what I needed before

We left, I’d be left between choosing my fathers

Memories and my mothers peace

I would then steal the entire house

And its memories, hide them behind a

Brain pathway in my head       If anything is worth holding

Unto, it’s worth keeping forever.

(Hour 19) 16.30pm-17.30pm. TEXT PROMPT: inarticulate surroundings, tiny truth

exhausted

we’re lost high on some tiny hills
somewhere in a valley of paradise
overlooking a misspelt ancient
Spanish warfield dripping olives

Ryan snoring at my feet
wishing i was out under sun
with dead (but now second
life) wood baby in hand

Hour 16 prompt

FREEDOM
A few months ago, the thought never came,
That a new virus would come, and life would never be the same!
A few months ago, the thought never came,
That even going out of the house would never be the same.
A few months ago, the thought never came,
That travelling to another country would now never be the same.
A few months ago, the thought never came,
That there was no value for money, education or fame.
A few months back, nature was taken for granted,
But nature shackled our legs with fear and now only freedom is wanted.

BY SHREYA SURAJ

Storm – Hour Nineteen

Storm

Salty air blows around in circles
The breeze picks up seaweed from sand
The current reacts to the gusts
By crashing to the shore
Seafoam swirls the rocks
Shells dig in deep
Safe from harm
Black clouds
Storm

Hour 19 2023

War Zone

I’m in a bunker,

sandbags piled all around,

barely able to keep my head

up, for fear of incoming rounds.

I’ve taken some direct hits, already,

and may or may not be able to

withstand more. Could you help me,

carry a message back to headquarters?

I need reinforcements, ammunition,

and yes, food and water. Otherwise

I may not make it out alive. Surely

they haven’t forgotten me, stranded here.

Hunting Life

Well gone are those feary
while we think a living prey
will live soon without a baby
when killing seize their destiny

Fisherman goes for fishing
catching salmon with netting
working the clock like a king
shorting breathe of fins living

Hunters matches to the forest
holding raffle to shoot at sight
any animals that cross the rout
be it a lion a dear or big elephant

fierce lion hunt the zebras
deadly wolf strike buffalos
fearful tiger tear the rabbits
fiery hawks hook the chickens