24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
UNPROTECTED
Unprotected
You entered my world
Our hearts racing
UNPROTECTED
You treated me8f0
Like I owed you every breath
Unprotected
Your ego in charge
Your pleasure- Your sole priority
Unprotected
My body entangled in the chains
of your rage
Hopeless with no escape
It’s August still
and yet the field edges are
unseasonably alight.
Great stands of hawthorn hedges,
the most ancient in all of Cheshire,
loaded so heavily with scarlet fruit
bend over you,
into the wet wildflower meadows
created in the crook of the River Mersey,
the boundary river.
Author: ©️Jane Eckford
2nd September 2023
Sorry it was stuck in drafts
Maid’s limbs elongate,
Suckers escalate, marine,
Sea weed smothers walls.
She was rejected again and again
By every music company, by every music competition
But she continued playing her violin
Sometimes in the park, other times outside the temples
Today she sat in a deserted garden, closing eyes and
Playing the violin until her fingers bled
A homeless who regularly napped there, rushed to her
Why do you play it till your fingers and heart bleed?
“Because if wounds and hurt had a voice, they would be violins…”
We traveled to New Orleans, to seek out the darker side
We headed to an apartment; there were secrets it did hide.
A tragic tale unfolded when a young man jumped to his end
A note found in his pocket, to his apartment police were sent
He had killed his girlfriend, in a fit of drunken rage
Authorities came to the murder house where a young woman ended her days.
It was to this apartment we went and answers we would seek.
The atmosphere was very sad and the floorboards did creak.
I was standing in the bathroom, where I asked if they were there
Two words came up on my app, they were “shape” and “male”.
At that exact moment, a tall, dark shadow flew by me
I was startled from my sadness, and tried not to flee.
I made my way to the other room, to find our great guide
I told her what happened and she began to smile.
She asked if the shadow was tall and when I did agree
She nodded her head, said she knew who it was, later she told me.
The young man who jumped to his death stood at six foot eight
His sadness still lingers, because of his grievous fate.
The situation was very sad; I did not find this scary,
I hope one day he will find peace, move on, let the past be buried.
You’ve come to me in a dream again.
This time it’s exactly a year since
you left us,
after fist fighting with death
until there was no fight left.
Now here you are-
radiant and giddy,
“Fine as frog’s hair,”
unencumbered by aging or illness…
or a life that never pulled any punches.
I reach out with both arms
to pull you closer.
As I am about to touch you,
poof!
you are gone again.
It was back
The crow with the single
Pale blue eye
Perched on Mrs. Haversham’s fence
Staring intently
Where it came from
No one really knew
But every day it came
Perching, staring
Immovable
They tried to scare it off
Shoo it away
But nothing they did
Seemed to have any affect
Time passed and soon the crow
Melted into the background
No longer noticed
By the passersby
No longer a mystery
Or point of concern
Just another piece of scenery
To be ignored
The day Mrs. Haversham
Passed from this world to the next
Rumors floated around
About what really happened
Some said it was natural causes
Some said it was suicide
Some blamed her greedy nephew
Some noticed the crow
Never returned
An unkindness soaring through the air,
Make their presence known,
Forewarning beware!
Wishing to be left alone,
You hurry through; too pressed to care.
In the distance arises dawn,
And the Ravens begin to appear.
You quicken your pace, looking in the direction from which they have flown,
And you say a little prayer.
For all the kindness you have shown,
You hope to be spared.
You look up to see him perched high on his throne,
Staring back with a glare,
You feel deep in your bones.
Self portrait as a silhouette.
I forget my thumb in the fire
But I do not forget the thrill.
Every abstract’ biggest dream is
To own life, so we let the bowl be filled
With sugar and cinnamon
A grey fizz, like a thunderstorm
Wraths a boys heart, but boys
Don’t die, Boys don’t girl,
Boys are everything but tender,
But soft, but prayers axed into
The ground to never leave.
I forget my thumb in the fire,
But I do not forget the thrill,
I do not forget the sun
That rose from Bermuda
And slowly sways into my body
Like a pilgrim in his pursuit
For halo validation.
I made some chicken today,
I cooked it pretty late,
It was so delicious, I cleaned the plate,
I smothered it in gravy,
And seasoned it with love,
I ate it by myself, too bad no one was around to share,
You would have loved it, only if you was here.