24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Off the shores of Jötunheim,
There stands a mighty gate.
Portal to the wisdom well,
When the tide runs late.
You may someday ride your dreams
Upon an ocean’s wave.
Ride the Astrol Sleipnir
To Eye of Oden’s grave.
If you ever make it there,
Drink some mead for me.
Then, ask a question for a cure
For man’s stupidity.
The world’s a giant, sooty ashtray
holes in walls, with smoke-black stains
our sins, the earth’s full burning pain
the trash, we dump in bucket loads
glass on sidewalks and crushed in roads
they cut the ground with fractured nodes
each hole spies a different window
where shadows lurk, and poisons go
or ghosts of once a rugged life
got tired and offed his scathing wife
then he himself, with stabbed knife
graffiti it will sometimes be
the smoking offal of gangs and rings
drugs, they rot people about
smacked loves and lives near inside-out
drunks they wreck the homes and highways
then steal the lives of others‘ days
pollution, the final slow demise
as it kills our land and skies
and construction, always promising trees
I know that I will never see
land finally will a desert be
and burning, screaming volcanoes
will torch what’s left in fiery throes
when ashes cool and finally mend
creation can begin again.
-Sandra Johnson
(Muse photo courtesy of Unsplash)
It was my first Christmas in California.
I had met him just a few months
prior to that night.
He seemed so sweet,
and so quirky at the same time.
And seeing someone else, of course.
That’s always the way it is in my life.
Like a magnet for married men,
I attract them like flies to a picnic.
Ah, but he was a charmer!
Blue eyed blonde, about my age,
athletic, and even played the guitar.
We were a perfect match, I thought;
me, a singer, songwriter, poet, and
him, a charming, quirky guitarist.
We went caroling with the music club
in which I had first met him.
He hadn’t told his girlfriend about us… yet.
She had to have known! All women know
when their men have wandering eyes.
She knew. Indeed, she knew his nature.
Just like all the men I attract, he was another
Romeo. A cad who loved women in general,
but no one in particular. Just another user.
I hate that about him now, though I know
it was nothing malicious. He was, like the others,
just a broken man who learned love the wrong way.
But that night, I was convinced he would be
my second husband. I sure know how to pick ‘em!
Charmers, like rattlesnakes disguised as men.
It’s never me that approaches them, but perhaps
it should be! Though, come to think of it,
that has never worked out either.
I am still single nearly thirty years after I divorced
in court, and more than thirty years since I divorced him
in my heart – that man who never was MY husband.
I don’t quite understand why no man has ever been mine.
Not that I need ownership, or that I tend too much toward
jealousy – then again, maybe I do. I don’t know.
I see couples all around me who are happy together.
Often, they’re attractive men with just so-so women,
and sometimes they’re not so handsome with real beauties.
I see how comfortable they are with one another.
Why can’t I have that, and also have the thrill of passion
at the same time? The electricity I felt with all the married ones!
I’m old now, though. Old enough to have too many incomplete projects
and not really enough time to take care of a man.
That’s my excuse for all these Christmases alone.
Tick tock says the clock as time waits for no man. They advice to do our things early, when we are young and full of energy and vigour. The road to success is narrow and extremely painful put the joy and pleasant surprises that come after will last a lifetime. Hard work doesn’t kill, it only makes you stronger and you gain more experience as you do it yourself. Some people are in need of motivators people who will tell them how to live their life and how they are to go about doing things. But truth be told how many times will you breast fed go out of your comfort zone and work hard to get what you truly desire why must you be nonchalant?? Where is the fire in your spirit the ones that motivated your ancestors to build a name for themselves, the one that made them toil hard and cast away any distraction that was bent on them not achieving their goal. You must pave a way for yourself and your children because you’re enjoying the benefits and hard work of your fathers. Life is like a relay race at every time somebody is with the baton running so the question is how much effort are you putting to set a great pace for the upcoming ones to beat. Life is a competition but the difference is that everyone can be a winner you just have to be determined and choose what you want to be either a leader or a follower, the head or tail, a winner or loser it’s all up to you.
It is no coincidence that it’s hour 22
With a picture of a white feather of which there’s very few
The angel number 22 is a message to keep up hope.
Trusting that all will work out fine and that you’ll always cope.
When you are going through challenges and you’ve just had enough.
Hold onto your faith when the obstacles seem too tough.
The Angels will protect you and help you see your dreams
The silver lining will appear when your’e ripping at the seams.
the eye is upon me now
everything reverberates in nature, you see
this carved out stone to burrow in
staying safe through the night
night has transcended into day
clouds filled the sky with grace
on the inside looking out
the water poured into the basin outside
the sun starts to glisten upon the eye
bouncing off the clouds and water flowing steadily from above
what a beautiful sight to behold
out of this eye carved in stone
I’m lucky to have found such a unique space
reverberating its grace for me to see
nature is truly a miracle
when you’re inside the eye looking out
When the earth touches the water,
and soaring height meets with extreme deep,
I fail to think of anything, but my own inconsequence.
It is as though Earth and Ocean
outlined some perfect design,
to keep my humility drawn
In the horizon’s line.
As a kid I loved the nature films
featuring time-lapse photography
rosebuds, opening
caterpillars cocooning
anything hatching from an egg
I understood the concept behind
the process – frames shot every few
seconds instead of continuously
playing the film made it all seem fast
my father worked in television so I knew
the basics of cameras and pictures
time-lapse films in enthralled me as
I also marveled at the patience it took
to watch an egg hatch, or tree bud
walking through the park today I saw
a feather lying on a bed of moss
ordinary, black plume – pigeon, crow?
I sat on the stone ledge just feet away
I waited, watching the feather intently
an occasional breeze, or passing biker
caused the feather to flutter, not move
even though I know better, I waited to
see what would happen to quilled fond
there was nothing to hatch, or bloom
nothing was going to transpire except a
gust of wind taking the feather, or maybe
another bird would pluck it to line its nest
I sat, expecting nothing, was not disappointed
but for just a few minutes I was once again
curious ten-year-old kid, sitting in a class
observing just how this crazy world works
– Mark L. Lucker
© 2020
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd
How was the bus ride?
Birds singing at dawn
Here’s a pretty leaf for you
Did you see the moon tonight?
Humming an old song
Take a nap, I’ll call you
Did you have dinner?
Sticky notes on the wall
I’ll save a seat for you
How was today?
A tiny cup of coffee
When I get home, I’ll tell you
Can I help with that?
Splashing water in your face
The sunshine looks good on you
What is your favourite memory?
Listening to you fall asleep
Call me when you’re feeling low
Are you okay?
There’s no one else here but us
Here’s a song for you
What’s on your mind?
I don’t think you should do that
I care about this and about you
Will you listen to the world with me?
Let me hold you too
Can I sit with you for a while?
I miss you.
