24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
I first saw an orb
in Wales,
dancing along a vine-covered wall
on the side of the gravel road.
Now I see them often,
floating amid the darkening skies
or scooting across the flagstones
at home in California.
Some say they are spirits
of departed loved ones
and it’s tempting to believe
this is true.
Who are you, orb?
Can you tell me?
Which of my missing loved ones
do you represent?
And can I reach out to you now
and touch you?
January first is a day that is like no other
Everyone will gather to celebrate the frigid weather.
People come all bundled up, flocking to the waters
Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, sons and daughters.
Other, less rational people, convene at the shore
Stomping feet, blowing in hands, chill bumps galore!
With bated breath the people wait, blankets at the ready
The cold air hitting bare skin, the anticipation’s heady.
A signal sounds, the people sweep along the frozen shore
They rush into the water, disturbing ice (I’d be done for!)
Once submerged the crowds make their way
To the shore and waiting warm jackets
The polar bear plunge is not for the faint of heart,
It just makes an awful racket!
(for hour 10—the image prompt this hour)
The Serial Killer’s Haiku
black-purple death shrouds
bursting with putrefaction
finality’s stench
Happy Christmas Darlings
Today is the day
We open our presents
Sit around and play
You like the tie we gave you
It matches your suits
The kids are stuffed with sweeties
They even like their little toy flutes
Toys lay around ready for assembly
Waiting for someone that just might be handy
To push, stretch and pull them
Wouldn’t that be just dandy
Among all the wrappings
The paper and bows
She sits there as they are
Forgotten and low
No one noticed and
No one cared
Not a box with her name
Did anyone share
Slowly she scooped up
Christmas giving’s big mess
Just stood for a moment watching them there
Happy Christmas to me I guess and God Bless
I’ll be a better person
Learn to ride a bike
Workout seven days a week
Eat once a day
Select only good people to be in my life
Force my acne away with a new skin care routine
Drink 10 glasses of water a day
Shower twice a day, everyday
These were my new year resolutions
On the first day of this year
It’s June and
I still can’t ride a bike
I never work out intentionally
I eat a lot of junk at various times of the day and maybe one health meal
There’s good and bad people in my life
I’ve learnt that acne has no cure
I only drink water when I’m reminded
Or I see someone else do it
And the weather’s too weird to shower twice a day
So instead
I just try to get through each day
With as much happiness as I can
I’m not lazy
I’m just human
“Any fool can be complicated. It takes a genius to be simple.” Woody Guthrie
weaving complexity through the sack cloth and ashes makes it neither stronger or softer
perhaps prettier to some eyes or more satisfying to the overly wrought scholar.
the KISS, to ‘keep it simple stupid’ can push the limits more than
the winding trails of comprehensive collective comprehension.
So, I kiss my own toes, smile at my other self in the mirror
and tip my hat as I close door behind me.
The sun set over the mountain range
Its beauty shone brightly atop the snow
Could this be a sign of seasonal change –
This deeply mesmerizing glow
Its beauty shone brightly atop the snow
A bright ball of light midst a chilly façade
This deeply mesmerizing glow
Worthy of one’s wonder and to be deeply awed
A bright ball of light midst a chilly façade
A sign from the heavens of hope in the air
Worthy of one’s wonder and to be deeply awed
A beautiful answer to an unspoken prayer
A sign from the heavens of hope in the air
Not something outlandish or seemingly strange
A beautiful answer to an unspoken prayer
The sun set over the mountain range
Knocking on the door.
Surprise on my face;
My crazy Aunty’s back.
She’s come again with the bag
To take the goodness out.
She’s a witness.
Jesus was not born.
I spit behind her walk past me.
I sit at the minute past 6
To wait for my much better uncle who
Promised to visit this year.
we kiss the solstice hello
an embrace of darkness
and all that is holy there
the fallow garden
the dancing sheets
the baking bread
the beating heart
the daffodil bulbs under the winter snow
we sit on the beach
at the reservoir
and watch the moon rise
over wintry tides
a cup of hot chocolate in the thermos
and we make a sandcastle
together
and bless the sacred shadows
of a home that will wash away with the next storm
I’d like to linger for a while
my hand in yours
your heart in mine
as the moon glides into the night
for this is where dreams are born
in solstice balancing
and this is where gratitude is potent
in the now
in the gray
in the cold inside my mittens
in the empty branches of the oak:
to say “thank you” here is
serenity
we walk back to the parking lot
with candles, not flashlights
and prayers
oh, so many prayers
as a coyote howls her own supplications
the bare branches of the oak
sway in a nighttime rocking, a Mother’s soothing lullaby
for winter solstice is the fullness
of knowing
that we start from where we are
not where we wish to be
To meet someone
And to know them
Really get to know them
sitting behind a waterfall
With heavy walls
descending
between
And you
Are a mystery
On the other side
of a global torrent
Of prolonged separation
Sitting with your own demons
And being washed in cycles of your truth
I’ll meet you on the shore
After being slammed on the rocks
Like laundry
Like a stone
sea-tumbled and rounded
And hungry for something smooth
And in this moment
I want to know you