24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
From the corner of my eye
I saw a sudden surge of birds
launch in frenzied unison from the cemetery
bursting from their trees
in ecstatic but perfect formation.
As I went to the window
I saw a woman on the street, head cocked upwards,
following those same birds
entranced, as was I
by their movement.
The birds spun and darted
and rode shotgun to the wind
before fading behind my building and out of sight.
And for a few moments, I was connected to another in awe.
Don’t Make Me Choose
By: LuvMiFreely
(Hour 10)
You said if I cared
I would come back and work it out
And if I really loved you
I wouldn’t have turned away
Where was this energy when I was begging you to change?
Tears falling from my eyes, soaking my face
Praying every night for clarity
I held on
Even when you didn’t want to be held
I tried to stay
But you kept pushing me away
The space between became unbearable
My mind heading in one direction
While my heart’s chasing yours in another
I let you shatter me
Every lie adding another crack
And you were fine adding to the pain
Just as long as I didn’t completely break
You left me empty
A feeling you promised I would never feel
Playing games was a part of your charm
You manipulated me long enough
The energy I allowed you to drain from me
I call back to me
Every bit of love given
You can keep it
But I no longer will be wasting it on you
So you said I should work it out
But I chose to walk out
This isn’t who love is supposed to be
I deserve better than being played like a fool
So don’t make me choose
Because I will always choose myself
A haunting that scared me
with only words
no images, no jump scares
no sound effects needed
just pen on paper
creating an atmosphere so tense
about a family of three
staying alone in a massive hotel.
It was cold, a gradual descend into madness
a gifted boy, a loving mother
a father whom the place possessed
who roamed the halls
seeing parties, managers, and
a woman in a bath
his mind slowly drained
of reason, love, rationale
till he goes on a murderous rampage
only to die in a fiery blaze.
My Love,
I don’t need long romantic vacays
To me,
Life happens when we hold hands and run to catch buses & trains
I don’t need roses, gifts or cards
To me,
Life happens when you hold me while crossing the road
I don’t need candlelight dinners
To me,
Life happens when we cook together and eat in just one dish
I don’t need long drives
To me,
Love happens when you cover me to save me from the cold
I don’t need romantic songs or dances
To me,
Love happens when you sing tuneless and I dance like a joker
I may hate you when you scold me ..just for my best
But
To me,
Love just happens when you cry when I am in pain
Life may not be a Bed Of Roses
But
To me,
It is no less than an adventure with YOU!!
And I am loving it!!
If I could live inside a
Single moment. It’s
When I’m wine drunk on
Christmas. Mom and dad
Just gifted me a record player
And dad broke out his old
Vinyls. We start with what
We know while he digs through
The sounds of his childhood to
Find that one song. His quiet laughter at
My sister and I dancing and
Giggling in the kitchen, cozy
Warmth of family togetherness.
A moment I would give anything
To get back.
Sacred Heart
We wake to the songbirds painting their warbles and trills
on the morning canvas, we listen to their fluted songs
from our bed, or after breakfast when we take our coffee
like a salvation ritual on the deck. You say you’re glad
the chicken hawks have gone away at last, you’d been considering
buying a pellet gun to pick them off one by one, like a kid
with a bb gun shoots bullfrogs at a summer pond. We’ve
never owned a gun, but when I picked up the binoculars that last time
my dad was here to see if it was a squirrel calling from a nearest tree
I saw a chicken hawk close up ripping the chest out of a little brown bird,
and I wanted the hawk dead. The hawks eat the bird’s heart
and chest and lets the head and feathers fall to the ground.
Before that, I thought a heap of feathers on the path
in the wild wooded part of our yard spelled a cat. I tell you
the songbirds’ return feels like a fairy tale, the village mice
have come out of hiding, they’re celebrating the bad wolf’s death.
What I don’t tell you is I’m relieved each morning your body is warm
and you’re breathing. I’m glad you can roll out of bed and head
for the kitchen. I’m glad when I reached for you this morning
I did not touch a cold clay shell of a man. I know how that feels.
I don’t remember my dreams, but I’ll bet I dream of the morning
ten years ago, your chest gripped by thistles robbing your breath,
my 911 call, the six men with heavy gear rushing in minutes later,
carrying you from the top of the split entry stairs where you waited
like a schoolboy to the living room then out the door
to Sacred Heart. You carried my sacred heart to the ER.
I followed dumbly behind you down Grand in the dark
early morning, thinking I might not ever see you again.
QUANTUM SOLSTICE
cast along the last streak of daylight
on the longest night of the arcing year
a small crystal sun shimmering in the frozen void
longing for another hearth to call safe home
the stars stretch again against their longing
these galaxies intertwined across lips and eyes
words that spark across screens like static
hearts hammer thundering a dark chime
what is old is released into the welcoming void
spiraling back into ageless infinity
what is new is born from this primordial darkness
unwinding the quartz inside an unmade wristwatch
Everything-Is-Just-Alright
The depths of color splint my spirit in two.
This, the way my heart looks on the
everything-is-just-alright kinda days.
The shimmering promise of blue skies and blue moods
pulling equally as I waiver in almost-contented ness.
My heart shall dive into the neverending darkness
if only for the chance to see the sun.
When I was young, I used to,
I note the obvious differences.
When I was young, I used to,
Lying, thinking,
Some clichty folks.
There are some nights when,
When you see me sitting quietly,
I start no.
It is true,
In my young years I took pride in the fact that luck was called a lady.
(Source : First line Cento from the poems of Maya Angelou, source text link : https://docs.google.com/document/d/1YuEZ2gcTQw9SCJr9Gr7TjxA7FfdhXArD1CHJxVvvrVE/edit?usp=drivesdk )
Dreaming each night
Imaginary accusers
Playing out the same scenes
Continually condemned
Never sure why.