Jolly jubilant Jack Frost jogs on snow
Wonder of winter shows snow in white glow.
I am here,
on this bench,
as if the world’s still spinning
but I forgot how to move with it.
The air is thick,
like it’s waiting for me to do something
to lift the weight off my shoulders.
But I just…
sit.
Leaves fall,
but I don’t notice
when they hit the ground,
just that they were once up there,
free,
and I wonder if they ever felt
light.
A man jogs past,
his feet like little promises
on the pavement,
and I envy how his legs keep
the rhythm.
I wonder if he knows
how it feels
to be stuck,
to not have the energy
to move
even when everything around you is moving.
A kid’s laughter stabs through the air,
sharp,
like a sound I don’t remember
ever making.
She runs in circles,
spinning,
and for a moment,
I almost remember what it was like
to be free—
but then the memory slips,
just like the wind,
and I’m back here,
alone
and unremarkable,
on this bench,
waiting for something to change
but knowing it won’t.
Summer is one of those things.
When it’s gone, it’s like losing a wedding ring.
Searching under the bed.
But all I get is ghosts instead.
We don’t have to hibernate.
I remember all the ice cream we ate.
All the hills, covered in weeds.
The sound of crickets we didn’t know we need.
Summer is someone you call.
When you want to paint the porch in overalls.
Splattering paint, feeling playful.
Summer always feels full.
Jogs in the early morning, I remember.
But now, there are signs of September.
Summer will end, all on its own.
We know it when we answer the phone.
And can’t go to the beach.
Or pick a peach.
So everyone, this is why.
When summer is here, we have to try.
The jogger with goal in mind,
Slings stress right with each climb
The jogger jogs with cells renewed
When oxygen flows fresh, like
Hemoglobin running through and through
The Jogger jogs on wings of breeze
With chalice of serenity
Fortifying and free
The jogger faces no darkened cloud
Just thoughts reaching heavenward
The jogger is bling to negativity
While breathing in fresh joy
Flowing from God's green bounty
But if jogging isn't your thing,
You can flex, stretch, and breathe
With energizing thoughts befitting.
*
You Know Who You Are.
I read you the truth and you backed away
Your rose-tinted glasses went back to the day
They edged out, all that pain and hurt
Made you feel better, dredged up no dirt
You read what I wrote, and it really choked
All of the memories those words evoked
Hard to recall when you're wrong
Hard to accept your acrid pong
You became irate and denied all said
You were perfect, good, I am misled
But deep down, a churning doubt
You know the truth now that it’s out
So, no crime committed, no harm done
Your conscience is clear, all harmless fun
But somewhere hidden scratches a claw
Jogs your memory, sticks in your craw.
You know who you are.
David Cox 06/01/21
An explosion occurred at the nearby car plant
In a road where my son often jogs
He isn’t today, he says that he can’t
Cos it’s raining Datsun cogs.
30 December 2021
For contest: Weather Poetry
Sponsor: Angela Tune
Hark!
It’s getting dark!
Long gone to nest, the lark…
But for the mongrels
Good nominees for Satan’s laurels,
Just for their vicious teeth that spark,
Time to interminably bark
And liberties take
With canines; uncanny mark
That resilient flesh break,
On their victims in amusement parks
Producing un-amusing facsimile of shark’s.
Night guard dogs,
Forever, I have cancelled night jogs.
Her jogging suit fits her oh, so fine!
Takes another sip of blackberry wine.
Headphones are in.
Music makes her grin.
Semi gets her when she jogs over the line.
Generally dreads the kitchen:
The incalculable losses it occasions one’s image.
Often with fried, oily chicken:
A company that doesn’t anything damage!
For all early morning jogs promptly ready!
Its healthy rejuvenation of a woman’s waist!
Has resolved not to be domiciled in a periphery,
Wherever seems to suggest a satellite
Eating rice with much stew against Beriberi:
A tradition of treading roads of laterite.
Unparalleled roles of reforms she can play
But sometimes the very driver of a fratricidal truck:
The ultimate prices of natural sacrifices she can pay,
Yet, the chief character behind some municipal ill-luck…
Not infrequently, recipient of cheers of a mammoth crowd,
As much the earner of the first bed in a bedlam.
From time to time a powerful voice on human affairs very loud
Not inconceivably between two hearty friends building a dam:
In some cases, emerging the people’s torchlight and battery,
still in others, the mastermind of a scheduled adultery.
The sliding sun pigments the ether vermilion
His unvarying routine drives him toil worn.
Accomplishing his chore and jogs down wearily
At twilight, goes down the horizon slowly.
Brilliant and flaming glints become faded
And the colossal wings of the dark unfurled
His sapped visage droops and dangles
And found rocking in the dozing ripples.
The dark pervades and bids a cordial adieu
Again an electrifying dawn kindles a break through.
STRAND COMPLETELY NEW (24)
any form, any theme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Date: 18/8/2020
Even his score
detached a dirigible in a storm?
Nothing abhorrent-
or should the dogs take with me?
Making jogs..?
Hog logs?
I had to remain detached;
the fuzzy are right,
reaching storm height,
long overdone night...
I should have come twice,
knowing it'd be so nice-
you have had the scare,
and many slices of pie-
why so many vices though?
Language-
lion's-
loans.
I have a friend Lilly, she's a dog
She jumps and plays when she jogs
She's a pit bull and sweet, she is quick on her feet
It sounds strange but she likes to eat frogs
She has the prettiest eyes of her breed
She's a great friend that's sure hard to beat
She's always got gas, and a whole lot of sass
I love her so much, yes indeed
She gives me kisses and hugs
Her playmate is a Rottweiler thug
She can outrun the beans, she's always first on the scene
Her full name is Lilly the Bugs
…the flecks of mud that paint their faces
like splashes from nature’s easel,
whilst blades of grass and twisted root tangle and
turn into laces green, to tie around feet and ankle;
these hill shaped blues that pound and pace over field,
cobble and path, collecting pebbles, marsh and clods;
a footprint left in the earth, then mapped and
mirrored under arches; these blue mounds that take toes
when sore and keep them warm in rain, mist or heat,
in late night jogs with flour for breath;
these tor shaped blues that hold my soles
like gloves, as a friend’s hand in times of need;
these blue, mountain shaped comrades that
push me over finish lines and through
thresholds, that suffer dirt and sweat and a
frustrated boot or kick back into the garden;
these two blues that help refresh my mind
and keep rhythm to every beat or gasp,
that are better medicine than any pill prescribed,
that neither moan, criticise nor protest…
CHEERS!
Jolly jubilant Jack Frost jogs on snow
Wonder of winter shows snow in white glow.
Fun of smooth ice-skating on snowy track
Children throwing snow balls in front or back.
Crisps of thin snowflakes flying out of grip
Knife of ice hits heart of winter too deep.
Dazzling Dahlia nodding abloom face.
Snowdrops though shy, gorgeous no less.
Severe chilled morning greets with fog and mist.
Woolen sweater, pullover, all in list.
Couple comes close in single comforter,
Embracing tight, pressed lips, not to chatter.
Winter enters in frolic festive mood
New Year to enjoy with sumptuous food.
Have fun, make merry, dance delight: Cheers.
Beat drum, sing in chorus, laugh loud, no tears.
01/08/19
Edited on 04/04/20
Third Place
'STRAND CHOICE Z' Contest by Brian Strand
Bacon addict jogs
huffing, puffing like a wolf
little piggies run
9-3-17
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