24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Four
Carefree and friendly
Eager to experience
A fan of rocks and drawing
Six
Friendly and friendless
Getting into trouble
Interested in reading
Eight
Working hard, more awkward
Voracious in two kinds of appetite
Constantly lied to and accused
Ten
Always in trouble
Friendly and free
Reading to escape, not just explore
Twelve
Super Smart, Awkward Friendly
Depressed, Lonely, Accused
Writing to escape, reading to have fun.,
Cold nights in the dark,
Desert reminds me of the
Beauty of true love.
The Sun is a warm brilliant ember, that not only warms the body, it warms the soul.
To be be able to set in the sunshine once more, and soak up it’s brilliance.
To feel it’s warming love, caress the earth, to watch the flowers and trees bloom to their fullest potential.
Everything’s alive ~
Glorious summer has come at last~
With all the cookouts, the running around, with all the vacations planned.
Gardens have been planted to grow, fresh vegetables, how I love those so.
The love of the Summer sun~
Time to have some fun ~
Children playing outside, with all the laughter and smiles, and least I forget the bike rides.
To swim in the pool, oh the sweet smells of honey suckle in the air.
The summer nights ~ Not a care ~
The joy of summer months to me is a blast ~
Summer is here at last… At last…
C. Burgess (c)
Everything was simpler
when worries consisted of who to
play four square with on the playground
Life was easier, when nights were
spent watching Yugioh in bed, while
munching on fruit snacks
The most complex part of fourth grade
was creating a new dance with
a fleeting “best friend”
Now, I still play games, only electronically
I still watch anime, less frequently
and I only dance with my headphones on
in an otherwise empty room
But life is full.
It’s packed to the brim with responsibilities
and appointments, rarely a moment to spare
but it is also full of
purpose
emotion
potential
and I reach higher every day
Everyday, we find reason to drive past the trainyard
where the river runs along the north of the city.
Under JMW Turner clouds, the lazy cluster of rusted cars
huddles in plain sight; Dylan’s idiot wind takes no pity
on the overgrowth of dandelions taking residence at their cavernous doors.
A yellow jacket swarm swimming
in the birch-beech copse, corpulent
corpse clears us all from its mind.
A feebly fumbling fellow fawns
over such luck, lacking decorum,
lackadaisical, limber and lithe
and lonesome. Loathesome fellow he
in that yellow jacket feral
and frightening and fit for the feast.
Beastly brethren on stolen
stingers strive for less than each
could earn. Earth eats the rest,
restless and resilient and ripe.
Who makes decisions
About mountain tops above
Trees yet below God
Pantoum #3 hour 23
lost words- ancient symbols
hag stones, wave through the veil
light breaking, heart beating
night retreating, birds tweeting
hag stones, wave through the veil
all the magic, begins within
night retreating, birds tweeting
lost, in a moment of art
all the magic, begins within
candles burning through out the night
lost, in a moment of art
moments captured, never shared
candles burning through out the night
lost words- ancient symbols
moments captured, never shared
light breaking, heart beating
Amanda Potter©: 2019 Poetry Marathon
Land of Haven and Fated Death
Virginia Carraway Stark
Spades played on spades
Dominoes crash
On the square by the sea
Where white means death
Beauty is a tomb
And creation is a cruel fate
They say nothing is impossible
Is it merely a cruel riddle to mean
That nothing can be excluded
From this world of crushing pain?
Waves and wind
Three chosen to prove that all is safe
A haven amidst the spade and crashing dominoes
Crossed golden swords
Laughable pointless, a golden sword
But less funny, if it runs you through
Their metal is strong enough to pierce flesh the once
Three is two
The swords scrape the fat into a copper pot
Where saffron and roses are mingled
With honey over the heat
To make an exotic delight
And then there was only one
Golden doors closed
White porcelain tiles cover the walls,
Edged with elegant scrolling blue
High above head height
Over seeing all
The beaten copper pot
Would have been big enough to hold
All three girls whole
But not all was wanted
From the ancient man who stirs the pot
With the ancient stirring spoon
The mountains block the world from one side
The sea on the other
And only one last girl
Singing with all her heart
Is left to prove this is a haven
Heavy lights hang overhead
From spider’s webs
That tremble at her song
Nothing is left for her
When the last delicate line of silk
Is destined to fail
Her song crushed
Along with her beauty
In the tomb built for a queen
Spades on spades