24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
clear
don’t forget the gloves
soak
make sure they’re clean
sling it onto the pile
DON’T DROP IT
dammit! there goes my record
four glasses, two plates
chop chop chop
drop in the oven
don’t forget the mitts
mix mix mix
make sure its hot
serve it up
roll your eyes
put it away
you’re done
cooking and dishes are such hard jobs
Prompt from 2016 Marathon: Write a poem that contains one or more of the following common phrases but uses them in a different context than they are usually used. Ideally you would use more than one of the phrases, or repeatedly use the same phrase.
“Welcome home”
“Thank you”
“Excuse me”
“Have a nice day”
“Pardon me”
“How are you?”
Sometimes the thoughts crowding into the surprisingly limited space of my mind at night mill about, brushing against one another, pushing through the narrow aisles and seeking space to stand and breathe.
Pardon me.
Wherever or whatever keeps those thoughts carefully hidden during the bright and open hours of the day cannot hold them back when the darkness falls and the barriers fade to wisps of transparent smoke.
Excuse me.
Like the entirety of a bat colony taking flight from their cave of upside-down docility, these thoughts wing about, lacking precision, disdaining focus, calling out for chaotic collaboration.
Pardon me.
While a single entity calls for quiet, for the cacophony to subside in favor of the welcoming cavern of empty space that cradles sleep, the crowd laughs and jeers, sobs and stomps, cries out for the attention each one craves.
Excuse me.
The party lingers through the early morning hours, every uninvited guest promising to take their leave before lapsing into yet another telling of the story everyone else already knows by heart.
Pardon me.
And finally, as dawn’s massaging fingers creep above the horizon, those raucous, self-serving thoughts begin to stretch, and yawn, and slip away into their private, unreachable realm.
Welcome home.
It’s an afterthought, really;
a mirage if you will.
& you have no idea how difficult
it has been
to keep all of this from especially you
because the truth is i’ve garnered
an affinity for you.
in many ways, you have given me
the experience of having a brother
& i couldn’t be more grateful.
The day I heard about the kids
and where they were buried
was the day my world stood still.
Anger flowed through me
as I wanted to yell out
to the world
“What’s wrong with you!”
Sadness washed out the anger,
as I thought of those innocent faces
wiped away from the world.
No one knows who they are.
I wanted to cry.
To cry for them,
to cry for their parents
who never got to say goodbye.
Pure disappointment then came.
I was in awe
on how fast everyone
got over it.
I vowed to hold them in heart,
because no one else would.
I said to the air around me,
“Let’s not forgot what pains they went through.
those 215 children
who lost their light
at the end of their tunnel.”
I [redacted] tell you.
What you [redacted] hear
What you need [redacted]
[Redacted} my dear
I [redacted] tell you.
Though [redacted] I fear
The words [redacted].
Are just [redacted] my dear
I [redacted] tell you.
Hear [redacted] you must.
They [redacted] say.
[Redacted] words are just.
I see your words,
Hear your call.
I look to the left,
Look to the right.
No way out,
No escape.
Trapped,
Blocked in by this barricade –
How do I break free?
I try to yell,
But it’s no use.
You can’t hear me,
You don’t notice.
Too wrapped up in the memes on your screen,
To see that life is moving on without you.
The power dying,
You finally move.
Pick your head up to see the world,
Only to find yourself alone,
Surrounded by nothing but the wall you built.
Hour 13
“I am a writer”, I tell them
“That’s great” they smile
But they still ask what my profession is!
And so, I started teaching
I stood inside the classroom
Books and chalk in hand
I was greeted by chaos and paper planes
I tried teaching them english and math
But they had different plans
They taught me life is not easy!
They ran around the class
Doodled my caricatures and
Sang loudly when the principal was passing by
But the day, I really opened my heart
And bent my ideals to match their innocence
And sang and danced with them
We became one class; Class 3A
Amidst the mayhem, we found laughter and camaraderie
I felt fortunate to witness
Young minds taking flight
I became a learner too
I learnt teaching is a comedy show
But what a show!
She was determined,
unlike anyone you’ve ever seen
just waiting for her shot to make it big.
& when it never came, she
found solace in the little things:
friends, family, the occasional parachute jump.
She’s better now,
not nearly as temperamental as before
& still holds out hope that someday she just
might be in the center of one of those immense
spotlights
whatever it takes.
Status report nominal
The ship sails the cosmos
A winding river of stars
And journey into new life
Light, and adventure
Galactic travel is possible thanks to [redacted]
Perilous [redacted] approaching
The future is [redacted]
And only [redacted]
remains [redacted]
End of log
Captain [Redacted]
History a tainted word, a dirty word, a buzzword
History should make us feel uncomfortable or we become complacent
We have learned nothing
History should not be censored
Censorship tells us what is fit to learn
Censorship decides what we are allowed to know
History should be shown in all its grotesque glory
Do not sugar coat, spill half truths
Paint the white hats and black cloaks on whichever side you deem the right side
There is no right side to history