24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
2020
I didn’t realize,
Wound up & weighted with worry
until an extended escape by bicycle
loose at last
I didn’t realize,
My brain blasted & bombarded by nightly news
until the power went off
peace at last
I didn’t realize
Clenched and coiled against the cold
until curled up beside your back
warm at last
Bette Low 2020
Translated from the Lycan Book of Poetry
And for what?
Dictate to me, Wolf, vindicate me from the cell in which my soul hast died over and over
What hast thou given? To such an ancient cause as the squabble between beasts!
We are of the same ilk. Blood that has been raised since the Great Land Bridge millennia ago became France and the surrounding sovereign states.
If you must do anything for us, Wolf and if you must lay your fur and bones to rest, do it in the name of that which we love.
And let Gaia sort the defeated.
-Oryn
One and a half years later, we have moved from
Frocks and button downs
…to PJs and messy hair
Not sleeping all night
…to falling asleep in each other’s arms
Hiding our flaws
…to embracing them, together
Thinking all the time
…to never having to think
Hearts that flutter
…to hearts that glow
From what is loud
…to what is soft, subtle, but stronger
And I would not have it any other way
Kya, the main character, a young one, spindly one.
She, a knowledgeable one, knows more than she lets on, stronger than a bear.
She looks over, way over yonder, where the crawdads sing, far from home: a stronghold.
A force not to be reckon with/
Elemental of her own right.
It never is like the movies
where fate makes your worlds collide
where soulmates get drawn to one another
and angels and violins your meetings preside.
it is work, hard work
you have to talk, adjust, make time,
It is a journey of two souls,
embarked with open minds.
It is not the in the grand gestures,
but the small ones, the routine, the mild,
a warm hug, a stolen kiss, a mischievous wink,
The choice to let go, no matter how riled.
It is a synonym of acceptance,
of gratitude, of forgiveness,
it is about being there,
listening and supporting.
It is the quiet touch after a fight,
the pride in the eyes that says, ‘she’s mine’,
It is the book bought for me after every work trip,
and handling my crazy after a bottle of wine.
For me, it is trust,
it is happiness, faith, the freedom to be true,
it is not an elusive concept burdened with fancy words,
for me, it is, simply…You.
-Prachi S
I love me a biscuit
That puts up a fight
Before surrendering
To the incessant attacks of incisors
And crumbles and powders-
A fortress in a siege, falling
Like Humpty Dumpty from a wall,
Or Jenga blocks stacked up too tall.
Who said victory isn’t sweet?
THERAPY, BUT WITH BEARS
“Do not defile it with cliche. It is unnameable.” —Isabella Huppert, I Heart Huckabees
My second grade teacher was paralyzed from a stroke
around the time I went to college. My mom and I still visit sometimes.
Her husband diligently brings her what she demands:
Tea, a magazine, a gift for their guests. He lifts her from her chair.
She doesn’t want to do physical therapy, it hurts.
He is so patient, so so kind
Watching, I said to myself,
Yes, like that.
My own folks, too, not to say they’re perfect
But they know how to handle each other
My mother stern and frazzled, my father
Always playful but always getting the job done
They fight, and they make up
They say things they don’t mean, but
They know how to say sorry.
So I learned a little more than most
Like that, yes, something like that
It doesn’t seem impossible, not when it’s all around you
But anyone can forget after too long on the wrong track
So I’m huddled under a blanket heaving
Hiding my eyes so I can uglycry with total freedom
But you don’t try to drag me out, you don’t try to dive in
You pile every stuffed animal we own
Gathering me up in a fluffy stuffie bundle hill
A group hug of mutual concern from our happy menagerie
Some of those stuffies came from exes but you’re never been threatened
They are our family too
They each have a special power that only you and I know
and I’m sobbing now but it switched and there are small giggles
I’m crying peaceful in a comfortable heap of my history.
We’re adults however we want
and we’re here for whatever is needed
yes this, like this, just like this.
Fall in love with me,
Close your eyes and let my voice guide you.
Let me show you just how blind love can be,
Become my favorite 3 AM poem,
The one I can never finish because perfection is not rushed,
And because I can never stop writing about you.
I loved you, but I never had the courage to tell you.
There was always a feeling that you would outgrow me,
As you moved on without me,
I realized no matter how much I tried to hold on,
You let go and put the idea of us away,
Somewhere between the 4-hour calls and the 4 years of silence.
I often create an entire universe that revolves off you and me,
But in this parallel universe I lose.
It turns out no matter where we are wrong seems to be the right word for us,
So as you lock away the feelings you have for me,
And I set mine free,
I finally have the courage to close a chapter of my life,
A chapter that has been opened for way too long,
And a chapter you wrote off way too early.
I guess it is true,
If you love something, let it go.
If it is truly meant for you it will return.
I let you go when all I wanted to do was hold on for dear life,
But I was always the one who came back,
Maybe because I loved you too much,
To see anyone else as right for me
Conquering Distance
My heart grieves with you, uninvited.
So, take this poem enveloped in warmth
to be an assurance of affection.
Your motherly concern for humanity
is what the world has not agreed
she lacks, like a beautiful maiden of no values.
I decided to call you the other night
to remind you certain songs won’t just play
if you do not open your body.
Mother, I prize you above gold and silver.
And if I do not write you my tenderness,
I’d burn; this flame knows no stint.
Oh, you say what about distance?
Mother, you taught me not to regard
what stops me from reaching a height.
Damn it. Is there a place songs can’t reach?
Each one a sense of hope and promise
Each one a blissful fantasy
How many petals must be plucked before it lasts?
This rose is starting to look skinny
One brought me assurance of my self
One gave me company
One showed me a world of possibilities
One pushed me to aim for the stars
Each boy an intense epiphany
I cherish our friendship, however brief
But alas, the selection process is harsh
By one way or another it wasn’t meant to be
So I leave each one of you my poetry
The words I left unsaid
When they could’ve mattered
Words thought best kept unread
Till I finally was free
Of the crushing grasp you held over me
If it takes all my petals
I must go on
And find the one.