24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Some may think it is wrapped in a box
Few may think they are shimmering rocks.
The real gift does not come nicely wrapped
A perfect gift isn’t crowned or capped.
The ideal gift is the gift of love
The selfless caring sent from above.
The purest gift is kindness and care
the kind of gem that’s unclouded and rare.
If you want to grant a gift you need to impart
A segment of your love straight from your heart.
the gift
: i’m giving : is to myself : to stop beating : myself up : over an idea : a good idea : any idea : when exhaustion : is winning : my eyes : are squealing : the gift : i’m giving : is the gift : of giving : up : accepting : a bad : short : pome : rapidly executed : right now : is infinitely better : than a perfect poem : meticulously constructed : & submitted : an hour from now : & so : flights of angels : etc :
Searching for Enlightenment
It doesn’t seem like we are on the same path-
You do yoga.
I blast rock and roll.
You inhabit a balanced life,
Mine is in chaos.
You sit pranayama in matching yoga togs,
I’m in gritty work clothes and muddy boots.
But we are both looking for the infinite,
We both seek peace.
You may be serene by the sea,
Seeking calm with measured breaths
and looking for infinity on a pristine beach.
I’m rocking and roaring down the interstate
Purging the assholes from my head with raging rhythm
Submerging in the sound
My spiritual packed between my life’s commitments.
My music is shredding the drudgery,
Burning out the jerks
Windows rattling, blasting down the interstate
I am at peace.
Bette Low 2020
Fingers reach out
Longing to touch
Anything that is other than
What they have been feeling
Every day the same surfaces
The same textures
The same skin
Same dark thoughts
Same anxieties
Same pillows
Same sheets
Same same same same
Nothing changing
Never changing
Now any new thing
Is an exploration in sensation
When she was just two almost three, Grace helped Grandpa John In the garden, as happy as can be. Near the carrots, Oh, they weren’t nearly as grown, Grace found a gift She could keep as her very own. She unearthed a marble, buried long ago, by some a child or squirrel long forgotten Its origins unknown. Solid red was the marble and as shiny as if it were new. She carried it carefully into the house And introduced it to all she knew. Often she would carry it from room to room to room. And explain the house to the marble as only a two and a half year old can do. Her other favorite thing to do Was to to pinch it between finger and thumb. Inevitably it would pop out of her grasp and roll to parts unknown. The game continued, all of us helped, in searching for her gift Until one time no one saw which way the marble went It’s in our house somewhere, Of that I am sure. I hope some day it’s found again with a child’s love so pure.
I close my eyes
My heart sending out a silent prayer
Let these memories stay with me
At least these memories of today
I always tend to forget, I know
Important things, precious times
But just this once I want to
Never forget, always remember
How much fun it was
How bitterly I cried or freely I laughed
Remember how much I learned
And how much I hold these feelings precious to my heart
So even to forget and being forgotten
Is my fate inevitable
Let me just remember these times
With just these memories I will be fine
I close my eyes
My heart sending out a silent prayer
Won’t you give even this to me
O great fate?
You once told me that I was the light that guided you
Whenever you felt lost
A northern star or lighthouse
Something twinkling and fragile
Yet pierced through the dark nights
I think of that when I turn on my nightlight
The fairy nestled in her chair of crescent moon
I wonder if that’s what I looked like
If you walked easier knowing that you had me
If you felt cared for even in my absence
“Are you really gonna do that poetry all nighter again, Gramma?”
“Yes, Bud, I am. I love it!”
“Okay then. I will stay up with you. I will be your assistant like last year.”
:”That sounds great, Cam! Thank you!”
“But Gramma, can I just play video games with my friends and then when you need anything you can just ask me for it?”
“I like it! Let’s do that.”
“Okay, and if I get hungry, will you stop and make me something to eat?”
“Honey, that is what the assistant does. So, if I get hungry, will you make me something to eat?”
“Yeah. I can do that.”
“Okay. It’ll be fun!”
“Yeah, oh and Gramma, can I have that chocolate in the freezer?”
“That is poem reward chocolate. You can have a piece when I get one. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Twenty four hours.
Twenty four poems written.
Grateful poets rest.
Elizabeth Fellows
6/28/2020, 2am
I meet God each morning
watching the early morning light.
He ascends over the peaceful waters
while I enjoy a fresh cup of coffee.
Watching the early morning light,
He sits down beside me
While I enjoy a fresh cup of coffee.
No words are spoken.
He sits down beside me.
He ascends over the peaceful waters.
No words are spoken.
I meet God each morning.