The Poetry Marathon

(Hour 24) 9.30-10.30pm — #37 “A flea in heaven”

#37
fleas in heaven

i hope there’s fleas
in heaven

cos all dogs
have fleas

& if heaven
has no dogs

then heaven
is no place

i want to be

Well, thank dawg!

That last one was easy (careful, it’s deeper than it looks!) ((It’s not, it’s just an end point, huzzah!!))

The card above got the most number of hits, but no bingos sadly. I got 3 x 3 in a rows overall. A pretty sorry performance by many bingo-ers expectations. But I’m pleased enough. & so to bed … :P.

24. Sleeping

 

The most wonderful moment

Relax and forget about everything

No doubt about

The most important part of my day

 

Happy Dreams!!!

(Free Verse 2015)

Poem 24

Sleep…

the great escape

for the mind,

body,

soul.

I dream of

faraway places,

people I love,

darkness, light,

words in my heart.

I dream the ultimate dream:

to be loved

wholly, completely.

Sleep one day

will be eternal.

But now it is

fleeting,

the dream state

the story board

for my heart,

my soul.

 

Eve Remillard

6/14/2015

The Film Not Chosen

Known by so many names

Netflix queue of conundrums
Netflix choice purgatory
Netflix spiral of despair
The queue grows and grows
Then there comes a day

So many choices
Genres, actors, directors,
Reviews and synopses
Stories to be explored
Dialogues to be experienced

So much time spent scrolling assessing reading reflecting
4 stars 3 stars half stars
Well reviewed, well received
Known actors, known directors
Most popular trending tasty treat of a film

My finger hovers over the select option, but
Next to it, another film
Unassuming, similar in genre, style
Possibly concept
Yet less reviewed, barely viewed
Almost forgotten

Let’s see what happens
Press play
The queue will remain
but I will change
Each choice leads to another.

Sleep

A long day’s journey

A long day’s night

My pillow awaits

Fluffed just right

A dream or two

Is calling my name

I imagine my writing

Won’t be the same

My head to mattress

My light snaps to dark

I am over this day

To dreams I embark

Goodnight you fair poets

You geniuses too

The ride has been gnarly

The poems have been too

Good night sweetest evening

I really had a ball

But someone will die

If my phone rings a call.

 

 

 

Spiral

Spinning down in frailty

slowly spinning drain

or melting.

No time control

finger swirl

mind blown.

Gripping onto anything

quickly to the end

or fading.

Life

“Do you feel confused, uprooted, at a loss-almost depressed but not quite?”

Sure always

Doesn’t everybody?

We play this game called life

You know-

Job, family, home

Creative frustration

Walking a fine line between

healthy and dead.

It’s a bad juggling act at an empty circus

 

Confused? Sure. No one told me

Most of what I should know

I found out the hard way

Once I figured it out

I find out I’m wrong

 

Been uprooted like trees after a tornado

Happened so many times

I can stand upside down

 

Lost? Never been found

 

And depression?

We dated for years

Depression is that bad relationship

That won’t give me back my key

 

Yes- life- good times there

Headaches, bosses

Dishes and unmatched silverware

Frolicking in laundry and car repair

 

Lucky I made it this far

Haven’t slit my wrists

or driven off a cliff

 

The body holds and the laundry piles up

Money problems and bouncing cell phones

Take your pills and water the plants

Feed the cat and mash the potatoes.

It’s all there.

Like a found wallet

You gotta look inside.

You hope for riches

You end up with dimes.

 

 

(First line taken from Finding your Way Home by Melody Beattie)

 

 

off to bed

color blasts of swirling stars

        deeper into the depths of unconsciousness

                    to a inky blackness of nothingness broken by

                           a voice from long ago, a scene reenacted over and

                                       over from a time when a small child would hide in

                                               closets from strange sounding women with high button shoes

 

Complete

I am looking out the window

Glad to see that morning has come

And the writing of poems will cease

As I slumber heavily on my pillow

 

The time has been enjoyable

And excruciating- as occasionally

Time ticked by so quickly

And others, tocked about aimlessly

 

I will do this again

Thankful for an exceptional experience

And conversations with like minds

And kindred spirits

 

All Poem’d Out

I have been awake for more hours than I can count on both hands, twice

What little sleep I got, wasn’t what I was expecting or hoping for

I wanted the…”my head hit the pillow and I was passed out in less than 2.1 seconds”

but instead

I laid there, with my eyes closed, listening to the poems trying to write myself in my head

Like needy children, crowding me, demanding to be heard

I wanted to give them all attention,

I wanted to write all of those words and send them off into the world

But instead, their buzz, the sound of them flying around

was the lullaby

that finally put me to sleep