24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Under different stars
You could be it.
We could be that.
It would be lit.
Under different stars
There could be one
And our one could make two.
She’d be the Sun.
Under different stars
We’d dance two steps
Count kisses by three’s
No need for prep.
Under different stars
the world could stand by
we could be destined
A new forever, you and I.
There is nothing terrible
with interrupting
a catastrophic mind
Mine is a bad neighborhood
unaware of your exhale
your breaths becoming
more grounded
in the cue
your brain is signaling your lungs to breathe
There are times those who wander are lost
in anxious and worried thoughts
plunging into the same pattern
in a different place
seeking a higher vibration
but getting loss
in humbleness
a chronic wandering
leads you to the same place
in a different destination
unknown
Stately Waltz
Lively Polka
Respectable Fox Trot
Tantalizing Tango
Samba, Swing
Jitterbug, Charleston
Graceful Ballet
Do a little two step
Moon walk across the floor
Breakdance, Flashdance
Twist the night away
Boot Scoot
Soft Shoe
Tap-tap-tap
Trip the light Fandango
Cha-cha, Slide, Shuffle
Bump and Grind
Let the music move you
Put your hand in mine
May I have this dance?
I was speaking of the devil,
and you walked in the room.
So confident and charming,
nearly everybody swooned.
You reached a hand out toward me
and pulled me close to you.
I felt my soul igniting
and my heart felt warmer too.
You sparked in me a fever
as we danced the night away.
And when the night was over,
I begged you to please stay.
You may leave me in the morning,
never to return.
But I’ll keep these embers glowing,
and cherish long this burn.
There is no place like home
People in glass houses should not throw stones
Fortune favors the bold
Action speaks louder than words
There’s no time like the present
Strike while the iron is hot
All is fair in love and war
You can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs
Better safe than sorry
You can’t have your cake and eat it too
Hope for the best, prepare for the worst
You reap what you sow
All good things must come to an end
Easy come easy go
Is the mental health exam over?
Sometimes, I wonder if
Everybody gets this sad, or if I have an unfortunate group of friends. What I mean is there is no
Way everybody has competitions of who’s the most fucked up. Which one
Of us knows
The deepest pain. I wonder if you’re
The kind of person who wants me alive
For a reason other than knowing there is someone worse off than you.
You aren’t.
I had been there for days
drunk with liquid
surrounded by it/
within it
never knew the ease of it
breathing there
not like holding your breath
and the choking sputter
when one second more
is too much
Weightlessness/float
the ease of the body
moving amidst other forms
no need for a cane here
no impediments
or cruel fractures in
my path
that bring danger
and fear of injury
The displacement of water
the placement of body:
a ceaseless dance of unending positions
When I emerge
I expect to look to a distant beyond
the busy dailiness of the city
continued unabated.
But it is not like this
I pop up
sudden and surprising
like an out of sight bottle
just uncorked
The city is spread below me
it is twilight
and I am perched on the edge
of a watery rooftop
many stories high
Lights are flickering on
as the city welcomes dusk
I slap my hair from side to side
glad in this wet clap
against skin
Above now
Not quite of land;
and of water –
now bounded
Breathing
in heaves
Lungs expectant
Watching
as the sky darkens.
Imagine life without pain
Without tears
Without growth
Who would l have been
Become
if time healed all wounds
I guess it would be okay
as long as it didn’t take the memories
that made me
the woman
I grew to love
What sort of strength does it take
to hold her small hands
which has birthed her own story of failure?
Cradling the cold fingers and stroking
the flat palm, you whisper
‘”You are stronger than you think”
just before serving hot coffee,
two scoops of sugar: a sweet stirring.
But will the glug of good intentions
propel her towards action,
which is needed more than hope?
C.S. Lewis once wrote,
“Courage, dear heart!” Words. Just words,
often not enough to produce.
Floundering under pressure,
not knowing what depths to draw from,
not believing in her own strength or
ability to build the sinew of change
and string together the silver gleam
of weights, too heavy now, but
with daily pumping, sweat forming, bearing down,
results will come
bursting forth like a newborn ready, heart beating,
ready, unknowing of what lies ahead.
Hour 9
I gave up using textbooks
long ago
Relying instead
on the lives lived
by my students
to fuel their imaginations
and motivations
Allowing them the freedom
to sort through traumas
of the past and explore hope
for their futures
our conversations became
the basis of learning
validating and affirming
We share in teaching
between lines of compound
complex and simple sentences
learning the flexibility
of the comma to add
of the colon to announce
of the semicolon to gently separate
The period draws an end
but also leads to new beginnings
each line shaping their experiences
giving voice to thought & feeling
each line influencing my perceptions
giving insight and understanding
There is no textbook in the world
more informed than the one
we each write of our own lives
each page a revelation
each page a possibility
of what it all could mean
[Prompt 9: Take a common saying like “To get lost is to learn the way” or “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch” or “This too shall pass,” as the basis of writing a poem.]