24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Rooted in the dark resides the strongest call.
Rooted in the night 95 percent of life is created.
Rooted in our hearts is a respect for nature that goes untapped.
Rooted in our minds is a pull to the natural world that surpasses our fascination with technology.
Rooted in our actions is the need to connect, barefoot, and blindly to a path to of liberation.
It’s just a step sideways,
A prick of a needle,
A double blink of your eyes
Our three shopping of a heart.
From Here to There is no distance at all really.
We just get distracted from all the filter.
But remove the filter,
And there it’s no Depth.
sweet corn in the summer
I never liked it much
thought it was too hot on warm night
the canned stuff too wet and bland
but the cobs too hard to eat as a kid
but years later I understand
family sitting around the table eating cob after cob
enjoying the moment and the company
a summer tradition
Four Oaken walls with four stout logs,
Gumboots on the porch,
The scent of sourdough, fresh-baked,
Wafting from the rustic storefront
Picturesque in simplicity
Beneath a periwinkle sky spread thin
Across the trees
Where deep within the forest
A roving engine rumbles
Spouting a thick cloud of smog
Then sputters silent pulling
A jeep to a rumbling stop
‘Neath a sycamore taller than a
Skyscraper, emerged a lone
Forest Ranger.
His eyes are sharp,
Sharper than a needle,
As he goes about his beat
And yet his demeanor softens
When the wooden porch is beneath his feet
For just inside waits Miriam the Baker
And she always makes him a sweet treat.
You had long hair
When I saw you last.
That time
I called you a ghost.
You walked by
The window
Of a bar I’m at
With short hair.
And I thought
How inconsequential
To me
You were.
At the time,
The weight of your ghost
Consumed me.
I’d lay in bed
Haunted,
I was possessed
By your coldness,
And I’d
Ouija
With no answer.
Your haircut
Looks fine.
Darkness
overpowers
us, swallowing all light.
One question remains: did we pay
the bill?
(A cinquain is a five line poem with a syllabic count of 2/4/6/8/2.)
Stationary Speaks without writing on it
We trade sheets of stationary
like trading cards inside our envelopes.
I receive a piece crisp white with a lavender silhouette
of a woman’s body within kelly green vines.
At the bottom of this page
two hands cup together
begging for food
for money
for mercy.
A dropped cigarette burned
a perfect hole like a hole puncher
inside this woman’s right palm.
I’m left to think,
should I tell her?
I think it’s time
my pen pal quits smoking.
so much depends upon
the rock pile skyscraper
against the
periwinkle sky
spread with
streaks of sourdough
cloud formations
and a sunrise of good hope
First line taken from William Carlos Williams ‘The Red Wheelbarrow’. Prompt – Use at least five of these words/phrases: Forest Ranger, Skyscaper, Periwinkle, sourdough, Cloud, needle, gumboots, beat, spread, storefront)
foot falls repeat
foot tap sand
sand gives way
sand records images
images of sea
images in mist
mist and matter
mist that wanders
wander toward cliff
wander with love
love slows down
love watches laughter
laughter at spray
laughter hurts cheeks
cheeks flush pink
cheeks chafed in wind
wind smells of ocean
wind a guarantee
guarantee of comfort
guarantee for life
life escape
life the point
point there’s gulls
point to destination
destination none
destination realized
realize heart pound
realize breath out
out of my way
out to play
play in waves
play for keeps
keep going
keep my hand
hand me over
hand of welcome
welcome warmth
welcome to hold
hold the line
hold back
back to the beach
back to horizon
horizon deep blue
horizon feels heavy
heavy thighs ache
heavy pants cone
come to discover
come to rejuvenate
discover
rejuvenate
Play like a Child,
Paint like a Child,
Imagination unfolds
as
paint splatters and spills,
smothering paper-
in happiness and delight!
Creativity and Health-
Unleashed!
Poem 11 by Ingrid Exner, Half Marathon 2021