24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Hey. It’s been a while
Since the last time I gave you a dial.
I know it’s late
And I’m keeping you awake
But I just wanted to say
That I miss you everyday.
And I also wanted to tell you
About all the things that I’ve been through.
And, maybe, you can tell me
About all that has happened, lately.
Because I just want to hear your voice again,
My dearest old friend.
My Beloved Mother,
How are you? You would be wondering why I am writing you a letter. Do not wonder. I am thinking about you and all memories that I hold dearly. All the lessons you taught me still guides my every thought. You left me when I was barely leaving the cradle. There was no one for me to handle. You were there in the beginning. You did not tell me you would not be there for me till the end.
How are you? I need to ask you that question because you never ceased to ask me the same question when you were alive. In case you do not know, my father died recently and he was so fond of you. My sisters and brothers are grown and have left the house. I visited our house last year and it is kept the way you would want it. Clean. But mama, you were there in the beginning. You did not tell me you would not be there for me till the end.
I missed you. My children are missing you. Although you did not wait to meet them, I have shared your memories with them. Particularly, the day you took me to school and the rain drenched my uniform while the fierce wind stole the tiny umbrella from your grip. Forgetting your own welfare, you carried me. I felt loved. You were there in the beginning. You did not tell me you would not be there for me till the end.
Our family is good. But your friend, our neighbour, has also passed on. She died in her sleep. I am sure the two of you would meet somehow in heaven. Did you just smile your disarming smile, mama? That is one of the things I inherited from you, the ability to smile easily. You were there in the beginning. You did not tell me you would not be there for me till the end.
Do not complain about my letter. I have not written you a letter before. Let me tell you a secret. I am participating in a Poetry Marathon. One of the assignments is to write a letter to someone who is dead or who we have not seen in a long time. That is why I am writing you this. Because you were there in the beginning. But you did not tell me you would not be there for me till the end.
Mama, I need to stop before I drench the computer keyboard with my tears. I got that from you, too. You cry easily. But you have taught not to cry. You said tears do not wet new dreams. I believe you, mama. I will write again. Soon. Regards to dad, if you see him around.
Ninety miles she walked,
towards liberty or death
with God’s voice in her ear.
Ninety miles she trudged
through forest and stream
she knew her worth and did not fear.
Ninety miles she led her people,
like Moses led the Israelites,
from bondage to a new frontier.
Oh, Harriet,
the struggle continues,
we remember you and persevere.
The cracks cackle…
The canvas with spills of ink
Leaves trails of smears…
The mind thuds hard
To the discordant tunes of hard life…
With the burden of living near zilch
Life is hard
When the financial rhythm wobbles
When the ugly rage of hunger beckons
To an empty pocket
Life is hard when the landlord bellows to your depleting pocket
Your muse also fizzles to the whiff of the thankless moon at twilight…
Life is hard
When the rains
Drought-turns
And sunset spins to
Sunrise at dusk
Life is…
Dear Anonymous American
I know it’s not your fault.
You caught it by default.
All he ever wants – exalt.
We wander through double talk.
From the top we get assault.
Our wounds get rubbed with salt.
You’re now in burial vault
of his askew surreal pole vault.
His mind flexible as cobalt
while your life was lost.
I’m sorry this thunderbolt
somersaulted your life to halt.
And if I say I’m sorry
it’s from one deep in worry
that you’re one of the many
his lack of caring had to bury.
The feeling of your soft embrace again
Would produce such a light and energy,
however we never know when.
Sporadic,
erratic,
However somehow the hopes will never fail me.
To truly be by my side,
one must learn how to enjoy the ride.
The one who truly knows your soul,
When we don’t have to ponder, what is their ultimate goal
Forever, shall I miss our laughing moments
of pure bliss.
Only the dark side of you. It’s what forces
me.
To continually miss.
And ponder the could have been
should have been
would have been.
Thoughts that will enter the mind.
And we must learn to put it all behind
I haven't seen you in a while—it's been a good six years since you visited. I still think about you, our close times together—but less and less. There are some times months when you never come to mind. In fact, i do believe I'm beginning to forget you more than not, but they'll always be a bit of you that I carry around on my shoulders, up my sleeve, in my pocket. We spent so much time together—just the two of us that you are in my blood. I tried to break with you many times but you were always so dedicated to me, so loyal, so noble. How are you? I hope you have made new friends, I'm sure you have moved on. You were always able to meet new people easily, it's in your nature, you devil you. I must be honest, I don't miss you at all. Actually, I am happier with you not around. Even though we were so close, there was always a bit of self-righteousness that you carried with you which made me a bit uncomfortable, I must confess. But, I wish you the best wherever you are these days. Sometimes I think I see you but it's just that personality of yours that is so recognizable in people. Take care of yourself, mate. We'll always have those late night candles and poetry we shared. Cheers, JohnnyG
It’s been over twenty years
Since you passed away
Sadness in my heart
Gladness of memories
Subtle signs you send
Reach me as a mortal
Shows you still care
Quarters left in pathways
I remember how you delighted
When exchanging dollars at the post
For newly minted state quarters
Did you receive the ones we left?
Did you know your life would end at North Carolina?
Quarters left at your gravesite
Like stones left a Jewish markers
Quarters littered in pathways
Butterflies a popular symbol of loved ones breaking through Heaven
I find you throughout the bluebonnet flowers
I remember the daffodils you fondly passed along
In brown bottles wrapped in a spring poem
Sweet peas trailing on the shed
A touch of Heaven with
Pennies in pathways
Dimes the angels place Heaven sent
Fond memories of soil mingled with cedar
Reminds me of the work you did
Even in the heat of summer
Dimes in the doorways
A reminder my love of writing
Came throughout the generations through you
You seeded my fertile mind with yellowed issues
Of writer’s chronicles
Yellow pads scratched by pens
Containing spills from the confines
Of your mind
A mortal life
Eras of hardwork to overcome strife
Courage and chance
You provided me a lifestyle beyond
Circumstance
Liberal ideas to debate
College you encouraged
You moved me in lieu of my parents
Mountain laurel scent
Flower petals floating through air
That dead of winter
On top of the dormitory hill
December semester visits
Shaking the hand of my future husband
A smile and a silence acquiescence
You transferred me without resistance
A quarter found many Mother’s days
To show you know my daughter
Even without a mortal glance
Pennies in pathways that David pockets
Admonishing society of the waste
A penny richer
Quarters in pathways
Bluebonnets break through soil
Random pocket change year after year
Oh why?
Why?
Did you have to die?
That spring morning in April, your granddaughter held the phone
to your ear when I called, you on your deathbed, me standing
alone at the back slider. I cried as your gravelly voice came over
the wire, systems shutting down at age 98. I knew how badly
you wanted to make it to 100. I wept so hard I couldn’t say what
was in my heart. Then a hummingbird came to the feeder hanging
outside the window. It was the first visit in a long time. I watched
the tiny bird sip nectar as you mumbled softly, words I could no longer
understand. But I knew your heart, and that you were saying, “I love you,
hon.” I wanted to ask you to say hello to my father, Virgil. But I knew you
would anyway. I remembered a friend’s words, Never say goodbye.
So, I said, I’ll see you again soon, Aunt Jean. And then you were gone.
Love,
Your niece, Nancy
the windows rattle
the thunder crashes
rain pours from the sky
clouds cover the blue
no light shines
drops of water strike the pane…