24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Do you want to dance with me?
Under silver bells and pine trees?
Will you float down main street?
With frost and wintergreen?
Will you accept this bracelet?
With gems that match your eyes?
A symbol of my affection as we celebrate the new year.
And will you let me kiss you?
Beneath the fireworks as the silver ball drops?
A new year starts. With the hope of a new beginning. Self-improvement. New challenges with new solutions. Greater opportunities. Chances for new friends and time with old friends. Fresh starts all around. Here's to new beginnings.
The hunted hare
Became the hunter
The hound dog ran in fear
“Blow the horns!” yelled the Hares,
“The Lord of Misrule is here!”
When darkness overturned the world
And day ceased to rule the land
The Lord of Misrule took the Throne
and all that was thought to be
the True and Only way
For a The Feast of Fools
Became the order of the Day
The Fool has put down the Mighty from their Seats
He has taken the Precanter’s Staff
He has released the prisoner’s from their cells
and placed them by his sides
While Bishops and Cardinals serve them food
And the Condemned may light of their broken pride!
Hares and Hens ran through the halls riding the backs
Of hounds, horses Nuns and Men of the Clothe and shouting
In the voices of Men!
The Fool made Papal Decrees that Bishops oinked only
And Cardinals could both moo and neigh
(He was a generous Fool, they mooed).
The friars danced in women’s frocks on the tables
In women’s frocks
Serving wenches, dressed in Cardinal Red
were served by oinking Bishops
You may think this tale too tall
Perhaps even sacrileges
To imagine the sacred halls
Of Notre Dame de Paris painted
With sigils decreed by this garish fool
Who by lot, had been but a stable boy
Been chosen to be The Lord of Misrule.
But it’s true that up was down and down was up
And Hares talked quite a lot
So much so that not that many years ago,
One was heard to be worried that he was running late!
It was this very party that caused Misrule to change,
‘Maybe we need Fool-proof rules,’ rued aching Cardinals
The end of Misrule Tide.
Hidden away in the twelth century were some of the
Last times animals casually chatted in Notre Dame
They ran out and all about and lived a very long time.
Misrule continued in various forms until Queen Elizabeth
Took the British Throne
But still, hidden away, Misrule, the Fool and it’s Magic rules
There’s no stopping the power of the darkest days!
Just the other day.
The sky was gray.
And rain coming down.
Below,
To wet up the ground.
Thunder, and the lights are out.
Many today.
Has no where,
To go.
The lights twinkle
at the neighborhood diner
announcing it’s
Christmas time.
She sits across from me
with her manic self
talking and laughing non-stop
while I watch her
exhausted by her energy.
She’s excited and I’m glad
but it’s a little too much
a bit too forced.
And I know all this energy
will spiral downwards
in the new year.
But right now,
it’s Christmas time.
As chaos spills forth
from the universe
The ashes of God’s
dimmed
From the darkest
of surrenders
To the boldest
of light
From the shadow to the
sun’s kiss
The world waited
so peacefully
As chaos always
takes control
The chosen stood
faithless and ready
From being misunderstood
and soulless
To regretting choices
once made
From the path
not taken
The blind walked
forward
Sankranti, the harvest festival of India, is celebrated in Mid-January. It has many names across the country but the purpose is the same. It is the time of harvest and each state has its own set of customs and traditions through which it celebrates this festival.
Mid-January, before the schools officially reopen
all the kids run into the yard
with broken wooden chairs and newspapers
to put in the Bhogi fire
The fire that cleanses the useless items
and reduces the deadwood in the home
A time to add new joy into our life
and celebrate the cleansing process
Winter is halfway done
in a few more weeks, it shall be flowers and sun
the world’s cold melts a little
and warmth spreads across
The sun is turning
and the kites are high up in the air
sky filled with many different patterns and colors
and the streets filled children’s excitement
It’s time for the harvest
and the arrival of Haridas
It’s time for the harvest
and the cleansing of our own lives
-Surya T
Late Bloomers
Walnut trees stand, a solemn maze of empty branches,
bloom buried in woody limbs.
Wedged between almond orchards,
heady pink blossoms fueling spring fever.
Humans & insects dismiss these bare plantings.
Walnuts linger, hold winter vestiges like an old lover.
Awkward tree, odd bloom cycle, produces stems, pinnated leaflets,
Tenderly, hidden in leather husks, walnuts will grow.
I’m reminded of my son’s limbs, twisting wildly in space,
struggles to move, to express himself.
Quicker males, ones picked for teams
dart by, ignore simple words stumbling out.
Perplexed, he finds a nearby swing to fly away.
His journey, slow, experience, a talisman to pocket.
Awkward adult, oddly blooming, navigates life with small steps.
Tenderly, hiding his scars, he too, will grow.
June 26, 2021
“Micro-Sleep”
Blink.
Blink.
Flutter.
Shut.
One second. Two.
Bam.
Open.
Frantic search around.
You’re safe.
Eyes flutter.
Blink.
Blink.
Shut.
I’m down for the count.
Limerick
There once was a man named Mack
who said he must hit the sack.
Now he needs a shower
Cause he’s covered in flour
Knowledge of idioms he surely lacks