24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Universality and emotionalize, we are all one entity. Immortalize through written word or songs that we play on over and over again just to hear it more. It is said that greet Death as an old friend but when are we going to see another person as another friend and not just a man and look within to see that we can learn from each other and we can all yearn to be wise men (humankind)
Hour 6: Inspired by the Prompt.
©️ H.J / 2020 – “With You”.
With you,
I am complete;
A day with you,
Soothes my heartbeat.
With you,
alone in retreat,
Chaos is lost –
Replaced with whispers so sweet.
Here in the stillness,
I find you,
We meet;
As twin souls –
Wholesome and complete,
Adding joyous highs,
so sweet!
In melodic laugher,
we close a chaper
of this day.
Sharing time with you,
is always my favourite form
of play.
Defiance: a daring and bold resistance
Your hair defies gravity
Climbing toward the sky
Yearning to meet the clouds
From whence you came
Your skin defies the rays of the sun
Absorbing its light
Warm golds
Deep blues
Rich browns
Containing stardust
Your smile defies the system
That was built to uphold a standard
That oppressed your soul
Stomping you into the core of the earth
And yet you find joy
In a dance
And in a song
Your softness defies all belief
Fighting against the stereotypes
Of strength that withstands all abuse
Of being undeserving of love and tenderness
You defy all these lies
There’s beauty in your defiance
Never forget that
This month Bollywood was rocked:
an actor had died.
It is alleged that he,
committed suicide.
What draws a person, to take the life of his own?
Is depression, so strong that it will pull you down?
Sinking and sinking in its murky dark depth,
suffocating you, eventually asphyxiating your breath.
When depression, slithers its cold tentacles, is suicide the only choice?
Can no one reach out to you, with a sound reasonable voice?
The terror and trauma of the final moment,
when life ebbs away, in death indecent.
The horror and pain of the loved ones left behind,
when the lifeless body, discovered and find.
The guilt, as they come to terms for realising that they could do something,
that could prevent you from this act, committing.
Seek help, if you are in depression,
because suicide is definitely not an option.
Dear Jimmy,
I’m sitting here on my deck, drinking a beer, and thought I’d scribble you a note.
I know you’re on that never-ending fishing trip with the Lord, but I just wanted you
to know that you’re not missing out on much down here right now. I don’t know if
the Lord told you, but the worlds had an outbreak called Covid-19, and it’s created a
planet-wide pandemic. I may be joining you in the near future, so don’t catch all the
fish! Don’t worry too hard, all I and the rest of humanity have to do is sit on our asses
and read books, write poetry, or watch Netflix. Oh, and eat and drink! Heck, this has
nothing on the “Freshman Forty” when we were in college. Officially what we’re doing
is called “Social Distancing.” This is just a fancy term for maintaining six feet of
separation at all times. It’s pretty easy for me to do sitting on my deck relaxing next
to the dog! Don’t think of me as a hero. I’m just doing my part to save the world one
poem at a time. Now, if someone has to go out, people are wearing masks and latex
gloves. Also, hand washing has become the new craze and may soon become an
Olympic sport. People are worrying that there will be economic collapse but have no
fear. Lowe’s and Home Depot are packed every day because home remodeling is
running rampant. Well, that’s about it. Mom and I still miss you and think of you every
day. Now, go land a lunker for me!
Love,
Johnny
hot coffee, sweet
soft sheets, warm,
his arms, a voice,
kiss, coffee, paper rustling
sun, rain drumming on tin
silence
Time is a master that never stops to rest,
But days we hide from him are the best.
Timeless
Warmth
Laughter
Your hand in mine, our hearts best as one.
Chasing no clock, the race? We’ve won.
Timeless
warmth
Laughter
We settle in for a night of connection,
Soak it up before Time comes for his collection.
Waking up under red curls, hot breath and thrown, tiny bodies.
Little rag dolls.
The fur of dogs rising and falling over my pillows.
Joshua Tree Breakfast Bliss coffee.
Chocolate for breakfast.
Bob Dylan.
Mountains, rivers, farms or beaches.
Squealing innocence.
Empty roads.
Air the temperature of warm bath water.
Cryptic messages left behind by dead poets.
A phone call from an old friend.
Dancing.
Princesses battling with sticks in torn dresses.
Smiling pit bulls.
A shot of Bullet.
Thai food.
Desert rain storms.
Maybe I fall in love again.
#prompt6
Hour 6, Prompt 6
The summer I was sixteen
you yet weren’t
was unlike all other summers
we had shared till then
neighboring grandparents
each with our own
seasonal haven – you
with two sisters, a brother
I just had me
Our side of Horseshoe Lake
summer home to
other grandparents
other grandkids
many transient short-stay
weekend grandkids
none ever as close
physically or in friendship
as the five of us
Your sisters found me odd
Your brother
a best-of-summer friend
simply glad to have had some
gender balance
on the beach
traipsing through woods on
some random adventure or just
playing badminton
The summer I was sixteen
found us all in a
different place
woodland hikes were
less frequent
rarely in full groups
Gone were times
seeking imagined oddities
feigned adventure
days of play
make-believe
childhood adventure
outgrown
All replaced by more solitary
just-the-two-of-us
strolls with less structure
more purpose
One of those afternoon
just-the-two of us
jaunts
was different
became welcome on
a trail we had trod a
hundred times or more
stopping
at a place we had
long known
where the afternoon sun
split the canopy of
towering pines
swaying birch
I sat down on familiar
decaying log, you
promptly sat on my lap
I took the hint
followed solid hunch
and suddenly understood
the phrase
‘easy as falling off a log’
The next day
wanting to always remember
eschewing simply
grabbing my knife and
carving our initials in
nearby tree trunk
I returned to that very spot
with a sign
painted that morning in
the woodshed
a singular plank
nailed with gusto to a
wooden stake
and hammered the marker
into the
pine-needle carpeted
sandy earth.
Later I took you back there
showed you my
sign of
devotion
You suddenly found agreement
with your sisters
thinking me crazy
fearing someone else
would see it
on this trail others
rarely used
you wanted anonymity
I offered raw proclamation
Your incredulity thus
negated by rash of affection
you kissed me
yet again
which I took as a sign
leaving the wood one there
Five years later
I returned to those woods
took a quick walk
feeling many of the
same feelings on that
same path, arriving at the
same glade, that very log
The clearing was
becoming more overgrown
as we had all
moved on
time, nature
logically reclaiming the woods
yet I found the log
right there where we
had left it
unused, more decayed
it crumbled to
my touch
I well understood
the sentiment
wry, inherent irony
The sign, incredibly
remained
toppled, face down, behind
the log
entangled in forest vines
I yanked it free
turned it over
The wood had weathered to
warped, cracked
parchment-brittle-gray
yet the bold
white lettering from
ancient can of
oil-based paint
I found in the woodshed
still told
the story we had written
I had commemorated
to your blushing, stifled giggle
faux chagrin
just our names, a date
a small heart
beneath the facts
I looked at it for a while
marveling
at its preservation
life as artifact of our past
The woods had kept it for me
I felt It right to do the same
I put the sign back
where, how I found it
then walked the rest of that trail
one more time
Always an instinctual guy
to this day
I still always believe in signs
– Mark L. Lucker
© 2020
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd
Is this Tin Man’s heart?
Carved from bleeding wood for chest
Sad beats burden breast