24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
When lights lit the city,
Everyone busy,
I found myself cradled with loneliness
Keen to find someone to speak
Then a wanderlust star peeped,
Seated high in the pitch black sky
It smiled at me
Unknowingly i began talking to it
The star embraced me through the night
Telling me stories of its own
And listening to mine without frowns
Promise me you’ll always be my side
I said
The next morning i found him out of sight
At this time I’m usually resting. I’ve said my prayers and lay looking at a movie.I wake up suddenly due to something disturbing me. I go to check it out then it’s back to resting. Again, I am awaken having to use it. As we said in grade school with a raised hand “teacher can I go and use it?”. I go check on my mother ‘cause I take care of her. Then it’s back to my resting feeling like a blur.
Once again I’m awakened this time by my kitties. It’s snack time for them my rest goes on back end. I get them their treats and then back to resting. The night goes on and again I am resting. Up again for natural causes cause I drink lots of water so I’m up one mo’ ‘gin for that reason.
Throughout the night I toss, turn and fight for at least eight hours, to no avail but I’m still on it!!!
Text Prompt
Write a poem about an experience, but from the perspective of another. For example you could write a poem about your wedding from the experience of your spouse, or you could write a poem about an argument with a stranger from the perspective of the stranger.
Image Prompt
Photo by Manny Becerra
I couldn’t guess the bicycle,
I couldn’t guess the song,
I couldn’t find the library,
but I could ride along, along,
and search for clues.
I’ve got at least one, in the friend I have in you.
We spiraled to the Pagoda,
looked down and then climbed up.
I almost popped the bike chain,
which would have really sucked.
But I could ride along, along, and search for clues.
I’ve got at least one, in the friend I have in you.
When we stopped for books at the coordinates you wrote,
I wondered just how long it’s take to pedal right on home.
Though temporary– even when you go,
home is where you make it, and the friend you are to me is wherever we meet.
When we made it to the porch an X marked our back door,
I thought I’d made it to the end, but we’d been here before
I couldn’t guess the bookshelf
And I searched every room
It took at least five minutes to figure the last clue
But that’s okay
Because I’ve got one, in the friend I have in you.
I pray differently now
No bells, whistles, thou’s or therefore’s
I pray mostly like a fool
Just foolish enough to trust silence
Will laugh at my arrogance
And bandage my wounds
I pray like a man who knows endings
And who trusts next steps
I pray like a man determined to make friends
Life is too short for making enemies.
I pray…to become prayer
Our adopted REDACTED began his life in a yoga REDACTED property on the windward, REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED miles from our home. Two years later as he took in his new REDACTED with us, he focused on REDACTED REDACTED our cottage, alarmed. Often and repeatedly he showed REDACTED as he REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED. After some time we realized that he REDACTED REDACTED have seen ceiling REDACTED. The gigantic REDACTED were not going to REDACTED REDACTED to nab him. We reassured him, but he REDACTED REDACTED. Gradually, slowly REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED good life on the REDACTED side. REDACTED REDACTED REDACTED, yes, but big harmless blades to REDACTED REDACTED place.
#5: Who Am I?
Who am I?
How could I not know?
But when someone asks me this: I just stare at them blankly.
I freeze; I have no idea what to say.
Who am I?
I list my name, occupation, education, skills.
I list the things that people say about me.
Who am I?
What does that mean? What do you want me to say?
Who am I?
Fuckkkkkkkkk;
I hate that question!
His name is redacted words,
and I believe he is the most
redacted description.
I am led to believe he has redacted
beyond the normal redaction of man
to woman.
And so, I feel redacted.
When I was a child,
a man called a woman
and asked for a date.
He gave her a promise ring
to state his intentions,
or a pin to share his bond.
And, on one knee,
he asked to share her soul.
Obscure hints were done
on the girls they loathed.
Am I redacted?
One day redacted or better
will come my way.
I hope I don’t mess things up!
My book of rhymes
is missing.
It has the words I need
to write a perfect poem
of a hero and his steed.
Writing now is very slow,
words refuse to flow.
My adventuring hero is running late.
Nothing seems to rhyme
and I am trying to update
but he might not get there in time.
He might not get the prize,
whatever that might be,
all because my book of rhymes
is missing.
I have
from time to time
misplaced
my faith
in searching I
reflexively
pat my pockets like
making sure I
leave home with
wallet, keys
not trivializing the
nature of
my faith
reminiscent of
school days
searching
lost and found box
for missing mitten
my mother
scolded me for
losing
sending me
to sulk
in my room
for I knew
then as now
I could
never
find what I
had lost
in some shady
stray box
– Mark L. Lucker
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