The Poetry Marathon

I Accept All Your Promises

(for hour 13—from the rainbow image prompt)

 

I Accept All Your Promises

 

Of all those counted up like random lists petty humans try to track,

how can I choose which pledge is most meaningful?

 

Of more than three thousand spoken to assure believers, how can I choose which of your promises brings the peace that passes understanding?

 

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder…

and some may find the symbol placed over Noah’s quitting the ark

more beautiful than words can express…

 

Yet to fulfill the promise of eternal life

you allowed petty humans to hang your beautiful son on a cross.

And that speaks more of love to me than a dozen oaths cloaked in vibrant refracted light.

Habits of a Curated Life After Robert Hass’s Habits of Paradise

Habits of a Curated Life

 

Perhaps if I left the refrigerator door ajar

it would trend. Would I influence

wannabes, elicit elegance?

(My kitchen sparkles in morning light.)

 

If I captured the unwavering undertow,

moved waves of followers who yearn

for an ounce of sleekness, and if

this time I cared nothing for adulation,

power, elevated Instagrams, tossed stories,

would my light still beam perfection your way?

 

A child opens her eyes to a world of 

keyboards and grass, both smooth on skin.

Does it matter which pulls her closer

to herself? Identity is relative, not urgent.

Her smile, one post away from strategy.

 

Her mother is made of silver. Her mother 

a social media zeitgeist.

 

Friends and neighbors wait eagerly, eat space & time.

She runs outside, leaves still life for later,

glazes a future with unforgettable moments.

What power, to woo with this magical touch.

 

June 26, 2021

Normal

Normal
The sun is beautiful again
months of sorrow are in the back
flowers bloom in the minds
thorns that grew in the hearts
have melted away
Everything is falling back in place
normal has a calm now

Hour 7

@varenyas

Come To Me!

Come to me is what they told me
My crush my love my fate
He wanted me
Let us meet is what they told me
My young heart floundered

I went to him
They told me to come
He wanted me
He sat holding reign
In the courtyard waiting

Trembling legs bade me forward
Past columns of ivy riddled balustrades
He wanted me
Approaching him as he stood
A young man’s lithe athletic form

A few feet more to go
I would go to him because
He wanted me
His laughter thundered in my brain
His discipled parasites followed him

Disembodied voice in my ear
Pain too heavy to bear
He wanted me
His eyes wide as I stood there
In his courtyard holding court

Surrounded by those who’d jeered
Their laughter silenced now
He wanted me
The gun lay heavy in my hand
Where I lay beside him on the ground
I wanted him

Hour 13 – (image prompt)

Rainbow filling spaces and arcing

Through the pregnant clouds above it

Or is that just the slice of

Sun upon silver blades

Melting clouds and storms

Indescriminate

Yet starkly

Contrast

Grass

 

Nature’s Illusion

What do I believe…

The picture or my sight,

Or the fact that now my heart shifted to the right…

Are those colors to wonder?

Or it’s just the nature’s know blunder…?

Are the clouds there to surrender?

Or its just they are enjoying to wander…

Those peaks having covered rainbow along with the glow,

Certainly are there to put nature’s super hit show…

Mesmerizes the mind, by creation such an illusion,

Hypnotizes the soul, while forcing all sense’s to exclusion…

For earth and sky’s romance, seems a perfect place,

Where both come together, to enjoy each other’s grace…

Submerge

I walked backwards 

Down love’s path 

To meet you 

 

I started with cold feet 

The day I asked you to marry me

Wading in a icy stream 

 

Gave you my vows 

Before I ever asked the question 

 

Lived our first dance 

A hundred times in our living room  

Before saying the word wedding

 

I wove ceremony 

Into every evening 

Long before 

Invitations were sent

 

 I loved you in sickness and health 

Without any promises

 

Now  

It doesn’t 

Feel

Like news 

It is my life’s story 

And

Perhaps

A chance 

That others might see 

Just how mightily 

I loved you 

As I ascended 

This path in reverse 

And you waited 

So patiently 

To meet me 

Hour 13_death who

It never worked for me
the tales of you slinking about
hooded
with scythe in hand
The predator prey thing –
so overplayed!

Instead I imagine you
young
beautiful
with hands
that have not toiled
and eyes
that have not known betrayal.

You are fleeting;
impermanent
A reminder of all we
will lose
All we cannot possess.
Not ours
to give or take;
to keep or protect

Our responsibility
alone
to relinquish.

Walking Naked and Obscene

**Trigger Warning- trauma discussed**

If you speak of your pain
You’re too much for people
They look away
They fear pain is contagious

If you keep silent
say nothing about your scars
You’re a liar
Woe betide you’re ever caught clothed

Trauma forces you to walk naked
All the while
You are called obscene
If you don’t expose
Every wound and scar
There are those who will say,
‘they’re hiding something’

If you tell the world of your pain
They’ll say you’re looking for pity
That you’re probably lying anyhow

The world is a loaded gun
For any victim of trauma
No matter your race or your background
Generational Abuse can run deep

Trauma isn’t a race
It isn’t a comparison of who had it worse
I’ve won that fight too often
To feel good about how it makes the ‘loser’ feel.
Trauma is a dialogue
Sadly there’s not garage or shop to
Get ‘fixed’ at

Neither is trauma something that we should
Think anyone ‘virgin’ of
Nor should we prize it
We should protect each other from more harm
Never punish for harms past or out of our hands now

The more danger in the world
The more often it seems victims are punished
Treated like freaks of the moment at best
Survivors are heroes with strength to
Do
Just
That
…Survive

Writing and art helps to tell
Those stories of survival
The stories of strength
Give courage to those who need it
For one more day

For some, writing is the only way
To let the poison drain
From the wounds
Support each other
Love each other

every wounded vessel
Needs to be mended with gold
If it’s to be whole again.

Mother Part 2/ Pause

Time only likes bodies that are riddled with something.

Bullets or cancer or whatever

Natural foods have no flavour.

Pause.

I have been expecting

expecting

expecting

expecting

expecting.

Philip V Coombs 8-9am