24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
The Yellow Telephone Booth
The Yellow Telephone Booth
Now a stand-alone monument
A lot of talk and carried-away gestures
Concealed like a visitor’s book
People wanting to be wired now
Hold each other in their pockets (without wires)
Coveted glances once upon a time
Worn off the mixed yellow tint
Who knew that nostalgia is a thing of the past
Hour 17
@varenyas
Mother had promised I would spend the holiday breaks
At my uncle’s place
The holiday came but Mother lost her face
While in the kitchen she had an accident
That singular act sent everything backwards
Had she not been hospitalised towards
The resumption of school
I would have been cool
With staying with my uncle
life challenges
given manifestos
much judgement often clashing
decision makers seekers out
life covering into the life commitment
commitment often in question
arising anew for future reference
reminding in the life metamorphosis
edging out realities
clashing from within
ending anew still refining
purging on what is essentials
returning to basics
Poem # 21
Christmas Eves were spent at my grandmother’s little house
on Lawndale, and then, later, an A-frame on 16th.
The dining table was set with festive tablecloth, and
even though she still had her old electric keyboard,
she never turned it on to play.
Anyway, the grown-ups – my parents, aunts and uncles –
never stopped talking long enough for there to be a lull
in the laughing and joking.
Flossie, my mom’s sister, gone longer than it seems possible,
was the cut-up.
The only thing she retained
after the undiagnosed Alzheimer’s that later carved her memories
was her smile and a startled laugh like
she was just realizing the joke.
With each year, fewer of the family came and
when they did, they arrived later and left earlier.
Because we wouldn’t see the extended families
on Christmas morning, we all opened each other’s gifts
that night. I want to say it was Flossie who gave me a tribute album
artists performing songs of Yoko One
and John Lennon songs. It was the year Lennon was shot, and I do remember
opening it that night, and my cousin
being impressed
that Roseanne Cash, who sang
“Walking on Thin Ice,”
was on the record.
My heart aches still at the thought that my aunt
knew what Lennon meant to me,
and that she knew I would love that album.
The next morning,
I opened Spaniard in the Works and In His Own Write.
My mom has always given me the best books.
Our very own cheerleader,
The one that keeps us going,
Telling us to trust ourselves,
What if it turns our enemy?
The voice within,
Says to stop,
To drop things,
Frighten us?
No, do not worry,
It is time to know,
You are the creator,
The origin,
If one turns against you,
Create hundreds of voices to fight back,
Trust me, it always works….
I should have muscles
its been over 2 decades since I started wearing it
Still I do it daily as a morning routine
pampering my armpits
Without it,
Perspiration will have you smelling like a yellow onion
chopped
baked in the sun
we all want that sun-kissed glow
and our under arms to feel like its been covered in milky oil
some like to keep it simple with a powdered scent
I go for creamy pomegranate
avoiding too much regular
glancing in the mirror for a white streak check
knowing it will melt into the skin
and finish the job
of my morning routine
We arrive,tired, but excited, acres of green and a long driveway
are all that separate us from a few quiet days.
Bright lights,night tennis none of us know the rules.
We laugh and run, chasing balls.
A warm bath, deep soaking, so quiet no inside
no outside.
Loading the car, clothes and snacks, bodied and toys.
A book from a long untouched stuck. Computers and phones,
Way to many cords.
The beach,the track,the 10km walk, no water bottles, tears
Military ruins, exploration a bus back.
The ferry, lunch, the view from shore to shore, history decorating the walls.
Packing up, all our things home.
I hear the voices of market people running
All shouting for help, as fire lashes down its anger on a store
They said it was a mistake, she weeps like never before and deep down i pity her
All her wares are on fire and she screams where do i start from
What has she done wrong, why has God decided to go against her?
She asks for Mercy and in a twinkle of an eye a man comes and tell her mama it’s okay i will get you something better
They say everything happen for a reason, in all things and that day marked the conversion of my faith
As she shouted if truly God is God and i served him well answer my cries and it was answered
An i a atheist was moved and deep down i had a sensation that God exist
No Saying Goodbye Twice
~willjxn~.
I calculate the time it takes
To reach into your mind.
I hear your song of loneliness,
Read on your face its line.
Where are the people we once— new,
Is Charity with you?
Have friends betrayed your innocence?
Well yes, I’m lonely too.
We walk together to the park
A stroll down memory lane.
We both admit the times not right,
We both might be insane
I see you’ve got the Eiffle tower,
It’s hanging on your keys.
I think it’s safe to speculate
You loved those bygone days.
Let’s say goodbye, Be on our way.
I give you some advice.
If you and I should meet again,
No saying goodbye twice.