24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
cw: none
When the canary next eats flowers,
it thinks of the taste of bird seed.
When the gentle hands return,
it gathers up all the remaining parchment,
and all the spilled ink,
and the hands take it away.
Behind, they leave birdseed.
The canary thinks that
it doesn’t mind this so much.
A very nice amplifier system
pulled from years of playing in a post rock band
where the same note for 20 minutes
made you feel real deep and cool
standing at the show, staring at the projector screen
black and white images of birds
buildings collapsing
now hooked up to theremin
and aimed at the house next door
who thought last night’s band practice was loud
‘Good morning, Philistines.’
and then conductor style waving of hands
shaking wildly as alien sounds are amplified
to unsafe levels
as if they were touching down
to a very sick score.
Every day is a great day
Hundreds of dreams
Thousands of thoughts,
Millions of great ideas
Wake up with me.
Every morning motivates me
To rise again like the sun,
Every night teaches me
There is an immense dark.
However,
there are twinkling stars,
There are full moon nights.
I wake up with hopes
I sleep with faith
I had a bad day yesterday,
Today was good.
Tomorrow will be better…..
Hour Fifteen 11:11
I once had a friend named Bitterness
whose caustic nature ate away
at the very core of my being.
Memories, a swampland I slogged through
with years of mud caked to
the tattered soul at my feet
while Bitterness urged me toward my defeat.
The pain, a prickly blanket
tearing at the flesh of my persona-
souring the taste I once had
for the life of present or future.
Bitterness took my hand
and led me down the
dark recesses of my past
with empty tables and empty glasses
and food that sustained my ashen tongue
that did nothing but articulate
my fragmented heart and destitution of life.
A mere existence of breath
and rapid heartbeat
pounding out of breath
as the well of optimism ran dry-
thus dehydrated pleasantries
clung to the surface of a parched soul
like the remnants of an ancient banana
clinging to the stillness of a table-
the former fruit of my labors of kindness.
Biting the bit in which Bitterness led me,
it cajoled me to linger within
dusty hallways of
what might have been
and the cumbersome load of
what if’s spurning another
onset of optimistic senility
stunting growth and movement.
Chained to the ground-
burdened by the perceived slights
and desperate attempts to
condemn my heart to a
purgatory of charcoal existence.
When one day, Grace and Mercy appeared,
their blinding light cutting through the
melancholic shadows
spotlighting my wounds.
Their illumination an antiseptic
stinging like nettles
burrowing within the fleshy bits
of wounds ages old
that had not yet healed properly.
Layers of scab grew up on scab
with each turn in the past
they caught up on the amassing agony
tearing on the edges like paper.
They plucked the darkness from me-
hushing the protests of Bitterness
and it reluctantly stepped aside and back.
As years of pain and trauma that had
grown like a cancer onto my countenance,
Grace and Mercy, with delicate touch
and a hush of love to quiet my cries
exhaled a breath of life into
the cancerous unhealed darkness
and it shrank at the warmth,
skulking away in a huff of offense
and shaking with fear
at the strength I had to slip
from the evil of it’s gnarled grasp.
The two new friends with the touch of warmth
defrosted the icy bits of me
that had caused me to grow hard,
reminding me of what it’s like to feel soft
and that those who inflicted pain
also suffer from the same ailment as I.
With a smile, they sat with me
threading a needle each to
bind the wounds-
covering them in a poultice of
God’s word and refreshing my memory
of His love and the sacrifice made-
of a love that covers a multitude of sin
and from Him,
my healing begins
and is completed, creating a whole me
as opposed to the fractioned self
Bitterness encouraged me to be.
My resolve resurrected as He is,
I’m ushered to continue my path
leading out from the darkness
of a perpetual death
and into the light of day.
For the sun shines upon Him
as He leads the way-
To be forgiven one must forgive
He states,
so Bitterness had no choice
but to walk away.
Daiku= Haiku form with a Diane twist
1
Colors never bore
Shifting and filtering life
People never bore.
2
Learn to accept me
Attitudes are so complex
Hey, try filtering!
3
Lessons are ageless.
Life teaches us so much more
Shift without warning.
4
Begin with yourself
How much bravery involved?
Wea re all colored. DMW
Kaleidoscopic
Tinker Toys, Lincoln Logs, Kaleidoscopes, and Legos,
Bristle Blocks, Yo-Yos, Tea Sets, and baby dolls,
Fisher Price phones, Barbie dolls, transformers, and GI Joes,
Polly Pockets, Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots, Easy Bake ovens, and Simons,
Lite Brites, Cabbage Patch Kids, Shrinkydinks, and Play-Doh,
Velvet posters, Fashion Plates, Sit ‘n Spins, and dominoes.
These and many others, too many toys to count, brought my childhood joy,
shaped the person that I am.
Hour 14 and it’s now like a drain, my brain
Working and focusing and the lack now shows
there can only be so much art in a day
So Sorry
I’m sorry you can only
see things your way.
your mean girl attack
is just another fly
in the dojo of life.
I sail onward,
my own wings
catching the wind.
You have always had this way about you
of being perfect and incredible and
record breaking in your own right but
never lasted longer than a few minutes
especially if there was rain on the horizon.
Paper airplane wishes – the prize flower –
something everyone wants but I suppose
if we’re being honest no one can ever really have.
And I’m sure you have your
reasons the way I have my rhymes – but
sometimes I wonder why you were ever
here in the first place – knowing that we are
the furthest thing from temporary people
.-M. Rene’
They say my dark isn’t lovely
As in the event that my hair is
Not the color of the night
That holds the moon in
All her brilliant wonderfulness
As in the event that the dull doesn’t mend
The wounds of an onerous sun
On the off chance that my eyes
Aren’t profound enough to capture
A kaleidoscope of colors
As if my skin doesn’t shine luminescent
Delicate sufficient to motivate you to rest
To dream up another world with my wings
An extravagant dark like a mirror reflecting
The complete wide world.
© Divya Venkateswaran