Hour 16
Raise your flags, raise your glasses,
And breathe again; it is finally over.
We have won.
Prompt 16
Hello again,
I heard you breathing
while you were falling
I held your head up
to the clouds after opening
my doubt to the sunshine
I didn’t hear you calling
Too busy looking out the window
waiting for the day’s moon
Gordon and Marvin
One nimble, the other lived-in,
And they’re both competing for the stomachs
of the F Word customers.
Gordon, in his chef’s coat, sans T-shirt –
scratchy material, no wonder he’s telling
his cooks to eff off – methodically roasts peppers
and chorizo for heat, adding sherry, pureeing, er, tomahtos
while exchanging cheerful barbs.
Marvin, gleefully waving his knife in the air –
“Am I distracting you in any way?” –
is boiling celery for his Meat Loaf Tunafish Casserole Surprise
over which he crumbles potato chips while maniacally
laughing that Gordon can’t identify his secret ingredient.
And, it was close. Two to three, Gordon, who was
still laughing as Marvin left the building.
The guiding light (Hour 16)
Once while crossing the woods,
it was dark in the night,
not a soul in sight,
being brave, she walked alone,
and soon found something on its own,
it was a globe of light,
shining like a blue moon at night,
she held it in her hands,
found her vision expand,
her path became clear,
her destination was near,
the dark forest was still there,
but the guiding light was here.
#15: Redneck Asshole
#15: Redneck Asshole
Curious mind
Untamed hair
Smelly breathe
Caveman beard
Red neck
Tanned arms
Caring heart
Faded clothes
Gentle prick
Deadly calves
Swollen feet
Steel toes
Music prompt (reverse haiku) – Hour 8, Prompt 8
Music prompts me to be chill
but to write at will
these last words I’d rather spill.
– Sandra Johnson, 9-2-2023
Hour 15
Version 01:
I sing the song of my people,
A loud voice in a sea of quietness
Before she approaches me.
I freeze.
While I am a tiny but mighty frog,
I have terrible stage fright.
Version 02:
Luck is a fine thing
That we have crossed paths at this point in time,
Creating a delusional reality of spontaneity
That I am able to experience fully,
With all of my heart,
For you.
Hour 16, Poem 20, Glitch
Yellow leaves on grey background
And a splash of bright red
Is it blood or
just ink
Or a visual from an artist’s head?
How can we know what is real ¿
For all our brilliance,
maybe even we aren’t
Everything can be an illusion
Or as concrete as the creator
meant.
⊗
Watch out!
There’s bears and shit out there
if you wander too far
Been here before
there’s even footprints-
probably mine
all the landmarks are the same
compass is no good
the poles have shifted.