The Poetry Marathon

Keep the fire burning,
As the cold winds blow.
Shoulder the blades,
That tear at your dreams.
Hope is yours to keep.

In the winter of 1849
– or so we think –
the wooden bones of The Terror
were finally broken.

Encroaching ice claimed
this stubborn blight
on a wild frozen sea
without remorse.

Those still seeking its shelter
were doomed to walk
stark glacial landscapes
ravenous and afraid.

What we have left of them
are rusted rifles, stone cairns
and bones gnawed
in desperation.

Once this land was swathed
in forests dark and knowing
Every acre was crawling with life
from soil to treetop

Now you marvel at quaint country roads
spotting a thrush or a lone fox
Without knowing what is lost,
and may never be regained.

waiting for you on a cramped balcony
fills me with fear
what do I have to offer you,
but cheap plastic chairs?
Your text was a curt ‘maybe’
but still I hope
Will I see your umbrella, dotted with daisies,
or does the rain keep you away?

Lie down right here
on my rainbow towel
Look above at the palm
Swaying in a lazy breeze

Your face is striped
in a summery green
The shadows dance
As fronds wave hello

Let us stay here
under filtered light
admiring the beauty
of a palm tree

Although each city has its own hue
The movies take no notice
In rainy Seattle, the world is blue
In Beijing, the cream of white lotus.

In grimy East London, all is grey
Mexico City appears always afire,
In wretched ‘Africa’, dare not stay
For blindness awaits a gaze at the sky.

Los Angeles is a pleasant yellow,
And Tokyo flooded in neon light,
Amsterdam at day quite mellow,
But a daring shade of red at night.

Little warm bodies
rolling and wriggling
A bundle of black fur
with small wet noses

The littlest one
leaps out the pack
with a proud wobble
and looks at me

In those sherry eyes
and defiant stance
I have found my match,
my furry little beauty

three dark figures stand
awash in blue from beyond
awaiting their fate

I know you worry that love never lasts,
With time stirring passions may fade.
But, my dear, I most assuredly promise you,
In doubtful waters, my love will not wade.

The passing years will steal our youth,
And should your dear heart fail,
Will I remember your precious face?

She lay down in sorrow as regret clouded her mind
now that nothing matters, I will find my peace.
the sky above was bright, the water cool
out came the razors – sharp, cold metal
for a clear moment, she paused
colours swam vivid and sweet
then soft skin parted
she watched until
all turned
quiet