24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
If you are not famous, it is the fault of an ignorant social order,
You are the primordial, the all-pervasive and omnipotent;
Revered and respected, worshipped and venerated,
I have known you closely.
Acquaintance is more a matter of experience than of proximal, tangible contact
I’m sitting here at three in the morning,
Clock’s ticking and the house is sleeping ,
Three hours until the sun will rise ,
Three hours until my sons will slide, With slippered feet downstairs
And ask me to make pancakes.
And still my sleep eludes me.
There was that drink I had at ten
What was it? Tea? It had caffeine!
And then of course there’s work to do, To plan, to plan, and then to worry: Three more shows, and all that travel, All that baking (!)
Can’t be right…Let’s do the math again.
Again.
Be safe and do the math again.
And still my sleep eludes me.
I’ve taken time, I’ve taken baths, I’ve taken pills,
Yet here I am, sweat soaked and hazy, Wondering what will happen come tomorrow,
I’m counting sheep and counting stars ,
And counting ticks and tocks of clocks, I’m counting down the next three hours
And still my sleep eludes me.
If we can’t
fill tiny stomach,
let us try
to save one single grain
that made tiny stomach drain.
If we can’t
make tiny face happy,
let us try
to be a clown
that will make their sadness down.
If we can’t
take care of tiny
let us try
to pray for small hand
that they soon become grand.
Reaching into the cookie jar as soon as you walk in the door,
Always a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie inside,
The sounds of the organ,
You’re dancing, knees slapping,
Singing along to your favourite show tune,
Life of the party,
Hair in your classic curls,
Your face turns bright red when you’re angry, crazy kids,
Creating the perfect family Christmas in your 1970s basement,
Plastic tree, shag rug, psychedelic pictures on the wall,
A funny little Leprechaun greets you as you walk by,
Proud Irish girl
You
are gone.
I know this
accept this
but sometimes
when I wake up
at 3 in the morning
I think it is noon
and that it was all
a dream
a nightmare
a Hollywood script
read line by line
the knife gun chainsaw
just a prop
the pool of blood
watered-down ketchup
the closing notes
a familiar top 10 hit.
Still awake at 4
I realize
there was no blood
no weapon
no music
no dream
just the nightmare truth
that you are gone.
~ J R Turek
June 27, 2020
Hour 3
First Impressions
To tell you the truth
Have to tell you our story
Sometimes we fight
Sometimes we cry
That is because you always taught me to fight for what I want
Wanted you to see me for who I thought I was
Leave it up to you
Mommy
From the very first impression
You knew me
You knew who am I
You know who I will be
You didn’t even guess
You saw it in my eyes
When you first held me
What you don’t know is
You left an impression
Your first impression on me
That day you gave me your name
You showed me the woman that I wanted to be
Yet you pushed everyday for me to be better
Yet still til this day
Still working on being like the impression you left on me
The very first day
That impression fit for a queen
That impression…
My senses
Overloaded by this dark night
Dawn approaching
I can smell it in the sea air
The sweet sounds of quiet
The sweet air of isolation
The birds haven’t woken up yet
The world is still waiting for it’s alarms
I sit transfixed
The dark night sculpted
By a maker I will never understand
For a purpose that awaits me
The Silence whispers
The Quiet sooths
Motionless
Awaiting daylight’s resplendence
and it’s quieting
This crescendo of silence
She was perfect,
And i drowned,
I couldn’t swim,
In my mind i could see that she,
Was the best thing to ever happen to happen to me but as soon as i moved close enough to say hi,
I choked
She was perfection,
Yes bro a take one didn’t go well,
Take two in progression,
Taking steps to go talk to the girl at the other side of the shop,
I felt like a military strategist, the way i walked, hoping this time,
This time i talk,
Two metres and approaching my target,
A bright faced woman, it looks like her mom appears from nowhere,
She was perfection
I could have, should have said hi,
At least wave,
But i compassed myself half circle strong footed out of the store,
I could have, should have,
She would have been mine, hopefully
-Ropa
Fame and heroism, two different coins, rarely the same.
Freckled skin, golden bracelets, a loving touch.
Always my hero, but your fame lay hidden.
When one soul left, hundreds came forth.
A hero is never hidden for long,
in the stories we tell,
in the stories we hear,
your soul is discovered.
Forever, my hero.