Chuvaj zube, dete,
I… nemoj da brinish
Uzhivaj u rechi
Nedostajesh mene
Take care of your teeth, child
And… don’t fear
Rejoice in words
I miss you
24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
A human bean who does wordsing on occasion, hailing from Northern British Columbia, writing on Wet'suwet'en territory, home of the Gidimt'en Clan. If using mobile, landscape works best for formatting!
Chuvaj zube, dete,
I… nemoj da brinish
Uzhivaj u rechi
Nedostajesh mene
Take care of your teeth, child
And… don’t fear
Rejoice in words
I miss you
This oak hardback space provides pavement
A cheddar cheese and full wine glass spread,
All entropy and sunflower delivered in a satchel
Knitting noodles while I nail my psyche together
Binding boards haphazardly like pages in this book
Decay’s natural
Avoidance our obsession –
Human arrogance
Pure panic replaced –
Purified by laser calm
Focus; this is life
With credit to Robert Frost for the first three lines, taken from lines 1, 3, and 5 in “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”.
Whose woods these are I think I know
He will not see me stopping here
My little horse must think it queer,
A deafening silence, drawing near
And though it’s said I’ve much to fear
From sinister sounds both far and near
I thank my stars I do not hear
Sardonic laughter in my ear
Whilst silence settles ’round me, clear
Were he to see me stopping here
With my horse, thinking it queer
We would vanish, bones and gear
For though I know he sings a song
Once changed, he’ll amble softly along
Silence precedes his gleeful tune
Until he howls, eyes on the moon
Most grateful am I to know this fact
Preparing myself, now, to react
The wind is calm, now dark woods cackle
A fire burns and gently crackles
My breath doth curl and icy air lick
Silence dawns, stifles, becomes chthonic
Quiet encroaches, settling in
With his approach I give a grin
No bated breath will you find here
For laughter’s begun in my ear
My breathing slows, and pupils slit
Claws extend from fingertips
Though these woods his may be
From the moon I am free
Subsistence kills are for his sort
While my kin like to kill for sport
Embrace me, take me within you, consume me –
Remind me how each heartbeat anchors me to reality
Remind me how the finiteness of moments bellow testament to life
Remind me how to breathe
And cleanse me as I fly, staring off into the impossible beyond
Before diving down into what infinity HAS to feel like,
Palpable patience punctuated by stirred sensations
You are the vector of disease and cleanser of souls
Harbinger of illness and decay, suffocant of humans,
We who are simply slightly evolved simians, ignorance-bathed,
Reaching for the stars from gutters between
Facades etched by you, your falling grace, powerful
Obliterator of rocks, stone-shaping magician,
Earth carving blade, precious you are to us, too
You are justice manifest, symbolic in your structure,
Equilibrium and purity necessary for creation’s will
You are not turbulence here; here you are calm, poised;
Immense,
Irreverent,
Eternal.
You watch me with admiration as I use you to explore my depths
As I probe yours
Comforted, knowing that I am home within you
Hello! This is my exceptionally late introductory post, following the discovery a few hours ago that I was able to log in and participate in my second ever 24-Hour Poetry Marathon; my name is Edward Quinlan and I call myself The Begging Poet. I’m writing from unceded Wet’suwet’en territory in Smithers, BC, and you can find me on Instagram @ctrlaltbksp and @yeetthesystem =) I’m going to do my best to catch up after being way too stuck on the first prompt for too long. Thanks for checking me out!
Home is where the heart is,
Home is where words are a hearty meal
Full of conversation ’til sunrise
And a little bit beyond; Simply put
A hug and a friendly pat on the back
Salient sensations and creation
Passed down between generations
Knowledge a bedrock for the future
This special sauce ain’t as good as it ought to be
So let us add cheese, please, for culinary steez
And because it’s the bee’s knees
Chesterton may have had a point, but the silence
Re: fermented dairy, is by no means an intentional
Omission, or derision, of a most satisfying treat
Sandwich or salad, I’m glad to write ballads
In praise of such a versatile thing to eat
This poem has * l e v i t y * Conveyed through p U n C t U a T i O n ! And a steadfast dedication to FORMATTING But don't let its A C T I O N - F I L L E D BLOCKBUSTER presence intimidate you; it's really just a friend, come to say hi, and remind you that MAYBE, just m a y b e IF you're still BREATHING it'll all turn out okay e b A E the space M r c between lines to find time & don't forget the rhyme Because T O D w a k e u p A Y is the first day of the rest of your life... ^