24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Hat on, keys in hand,
My ordinary superman,
Ready for the call,
Day or night,
You don’t know how special you are,
But that’s just it,
This superman is anything but ordinary,
Hidden in the world as Clark Kent,
Those who know, see who you really are,
Superman
It’s a long road ahead that you and I will #walk.
We may or may not match our stride.
We may never ever cross paths.
But if we ever do, and if our #masks still hide our #smiles,
…can we #promise each other this ?
We shall not turn away our eyes in #guilt.
We shall not lower them in #fear.
We will remind ourselves that, while #anger and #sorrow have no #color,
#Love makes up for them in a million hues.
We will accept that #acceptance is hard, and #forgetting isn’t easy,
But deep within we will #believe, to #forgive isn’t just #divine, it’s also the best anti-depressant.
The road ahead will be traversed by many like us.
And also by many more, unlike us.
It will be trudged slowly, by those, whose #wounds are deeper than ours,
Who are #weary, whose #hearts need to #heal, and whose #minds need to #rest.
Maybe, just maybe if we kept our promise, we may be able to make it a little easier for them?
Maybe we #slow down for a few who need the #kindness, and #run with those who want to be #free ?
Aren’t we all a little bit selfish, to want to be remembered for the right reasons?
It’s a long road ahead that you and I will walk.
We may or may not match our stride.
We may never ever cross paths.
But if we ever do, and if our masks still hide our smiles,
…can we promise each other this ?
Write a poem about a famous woman or an influential woman you know personally.
In the moist black hours
of midnight sleep
the wind pushed in
with sudden force,
swept up the dusty ground
like a broom.
Forced out of their secret corners,
under a canopy of pines,
the mice stormed by trailer.
They scurried up my tires
and invaded through invisible cracks.
Their evidence is clear—
tiny black droppings in drawers,
and footprints forgotten
in the dust outside.
So today, by gulps of caffeine,
and the frantic motion
of my pen across paper,
I’ll try once again to scrub them away.
Just me
Laying in bed
Awake, aware, I wait
For others to come help me out
Just normal daily needs
I cannot do
Myself
(Eintou form)
Usually ask who am I
Today
I am telling me
Who the fuck do you think you are
It doesn’t matter who I think I am
It matter who I know I am
And from there
Create a better me
This is me
Creating a better life for me
Tired of being someone’s daughter
Chose to have sex but today
Sticking with my choice to be a mom
Now I’m trying to build orur future
My way
Not him
No I am not her
Who the hell is she
Doing things my way
Why
This is me
Anxiety swirls in my stomach like an F5 tornado
sweat leaks from my palms in age-old embarrassment
the thoughts rushing through my brain like seagulls after bread
Hot then cold waves wash over my body in a sussurus of fear, shame, guilt.
I’ve failed so many times before.
Begun so many times before
Left unfinished, abandoned, lost to time and memory
Only to return as a reminder of inadequacy
As flashes of pain that make me want to turn away,
or cover my eyes to avoid seeing the wreckage-
but the wreck is inside me and I can’t cover my mind’s eye
So I will distract myself with dreams of success and joy
I will plod along – the draft horse pulling the plow-
Tilling the fertile soil of my imagination.
I will plant the seeds, water then with my sweat and tears
and rejoice when they bloom.
Hello,
I am Erin. I am a mother of a set of twins and a set of triplets and 1 toddler as well. I was a teacher for many years. I live in NYC and have for a decade.
I am a MFA dropout. It seemed easy to write when I was young. Now I am using this to kick start myself into new and better habits in writing.
Happy writing everyone.
Hiya
Just to introduce myself to the group I’m a poet who has been writing and performing for well over a decade. I cut my teeth in Manchester among some fine poets. I’ve loved every minute of the processes of being a published and performing poet. I live in Ireland and run a poetry covers event in Belfast. I often perform my poetry with sign language and I love performing at festivals. I’m currently putting together a manuscript and hope to get started on some poetry tomorrow that might lend itself towards inclusion, even just by a few choices images or good themes. I’m doing the half marathon.
What we have of the moon
and the moon has of us
Borderlands, we hvae
the moon has us looking
We have the opening moon
the moon has too many eyes
A black coat to cover,
blame.
Rocks in glass cases, though they be dull
a yearning for the ’70s.