The Poetry Marathon

Two cats, one dog, and me, family

united in our shared space as one.

Love, laughter, quiet times shared too.

Better together for

the good and bad days,

they love me always.

Family,

glad.

The smell of sourdough bread baking wafted through the air.

The bakery storefront display had cakes and pastries there.

The sign in the window advertised fresh jams and almond butter spread.

The forest ranger lost his resolve and into the bakery he did head.

Pausing for some coffee and a fresh cheese Danish that hit the spot.

He tapped his foot to the beat, glad to drink until the last drop.

sourdough

storefront

spread

forest ranger

beat

New Year’s Eve gives us time to reflect,

on past and future days.

We can choose to challenge ourselves,

to find out better ways.

To celebrate the good memories,

to flush the bad memories away,

to hold resolve to improve ourselves,

in the up and coming days.

The countdown to the New Year,

people pop corks and cheer.

Kissing loved ones, hugging friends,

wishing the best for all who are here.

Don’t put all your eggs in one basket,

An expression heard a time or two.

A good warning for those who walk in two left shoes.

If all your eggs are in one basket,

And you take a fall,

Laugh it off and make a scramble,

The tastiest of them all!

Blue skies beckon.

The balloon basket awaits.

Burdens heavy set down.

The flame ignites.

Away into the heavens.

Let go of the rope.

Leave those burdens to God’s care.

Hold on to hope.

Normal changed.

Everything is strange.

I want to scream.

Mom, dad, no longer here.

This wasn’t what I dreamed.

Normal changed.

Everything is strange.

Does anyone agree?

A spring in your step may occur when vacation is at hand,

Whether going far away or staying home is the plan.

Skipping may occur when you have a light hearted revelry,

For wandering in a funny style can bring laughter bright and free.

Twirling round and round, is another way to go,

Though dizzy you may find yourself rather slow.

Strolling from point a to b, chatting with a friend,

There’s many ways to wander, the options have no end.

Digging in the garden, ready to plant new roses down.

My shovel made a clank, I knelt to see what made the sound.

A small metal box rested there, the length and width of my size eight shoe.

I lifted it out with a smile, whispering, “who buried you?”

The lid opened after a few raps from the shovel through and through.

There was a faded picture, a young family smiling brave,

Letters filled the rest of the box, a glimpse into time past.

A childish scrawl when it began, it developed throughout the years.

A few tear stained letters, the writer could not stop the tears.

My cheeks wet too as I read the tragedies that struck them down one by one,

A family no more, or were they, I searched upon my phone.

Perhaps I could find one that remained, and help these letters find a home.

“After all, tomorrow is another day.”

Gone with the Wind, Margaret Mitchell did write.

Many readers over the book would delight.

Others waited for the story to come to movie screen,

Where Clark Gable would appear as a dream.

Another day given, choices to be had.

To be angry, to be happy, to be joyful, to be sad.

Some days it may be hard to get out of bed.

A struggle to find ways for in life to get ahead.

Another day to put one foot ahead of the other,

To share kindness, to choose to love one another.

The past can remind us of where we’ve been.

Another day comes for where we can make change,

Tomorrow’s a chance to be different, to hope once again.

The world outside the window changes every day.

The flowers bloom each spring, as the sun smiles their way.

There are insects crawling, searching for something to eat.

The birds sing in the trees a soothing song so sweet.

The world outside the window changes every day.

The squirrels scamper the fence line along the way,

Seeking a free meal from the tree or bird seed from a feeder or two.

The squirrels drive my cats and dog nuts, as they are prone to do.

The world outside the window changes every day,

Sometimes the rain is fast and furious, blowing angry spray.

Sometimes the rain is gentle, lulling me to sleep.

Sometimes the rain mirrors my mood when I long to weep.

The world inside the window changes often too.

Reminders come through little things to practice my gratitude.