So far I am still going strong in my first Quarter Crazy; although I admit hour five was tricky. I can’t quite believe that’s the halfway point already, but am also very tired already as well.
It’s always really interesting to see how tiredness affects the content of the poems written during a long writing day like this; and the halfway point of anything is usually where the challenge and the fun begin, although this has already been a blast.
***
Hour 4
Cinquain – Blue Sand
2020©DSCoremans
Blue sand,
like broken glass;
once a solid surface,
upon which red crabs used to dance.
Gone now.
2020©DSCoremans
Poem 4 of 12, written for the 12hr Quarter Crazy Poetry Marathon
Written during hour 4 of 12 on Saturday, 15th August 2020: 17:00 – 18:00
***
Hour 5
Free Verse – Words With Meaning
2020©DSCoremans
My position is untenable.
For far too long I have felt
it necessary to sit astride
a solitary fence.
At first, I could see both sides
as I sat trying to decide;
if the uncertainty I felt
was just or jealous.
Truth; I professed,
was the only school of thought
which I wished to devote
my valued time. Wasted
on nothing, more tangible
than ice.
I draw upon reserves
I did not know I had
within, a floodgate opened
which I cannot reverse.
Words with meaning,
as easy to say as nonsense;
for all words are the same
when not understood.
Information lost,
in an exchange
where one side pays the cost
and the other side drains.
All that you are
all that you will be
will go on, to endure
infinity.
You struggle on now
in the present only;
for a future of relaxation
may never come.
A life spent, following
the wind. Leading us away
from a bathtub with claws
dug into earth which rots through
leaving routine bound weeds
to grow though a surface
which once held water,
until cracks became chasms.
Repetition a condition,
but not a lifestyle.
A sad song played
on an out of tune guitar
There is no need to escape
only to listen and live;
to realise that the path to salvation
is to forgive.
2020©DSCoremans
Poem 5 of 12, written for the 12hr Quarter Crazy Poetry Marathon
Written during hour 5 of 12 on Saturday, 15th August 2020: 18:00 – 19:00
***
Hour 6
Villanelle – White Ash
2020©DSCoremans
Where the last trees grew;
the last people lived,
until the ash turned white, then flew.
Now nothing is new
and no-one has lived
where the last trees grew.
A dark future come true,
no matter how hard you wish;
until the ash turned white, and flew.
It is all up to you
before you have lived
where the last trees grew.
Is there still time to do?
Is there still time to live
where the last trees grew?
Until the ash turned white, then flew.
2020©DSCoremans
Poem 6 of 12, written for the 12hr Quarter Crazy Poetry Marathon
Written during hour 6 of 12 on Saturday, 15th August 2020: 19:00 – 20:00
Picture Used Taken: Florida, USA (September, 2008) ©DSCoremans
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