24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Through mother I did
I heard some long stories
Some far~fetched fine glories
One terrible old gory
This was one of those days
In a ditch along their field
His tractor tipped over
He missed his noon meal
Trapped amongst metal
Silver blades always doing
Green grasses grew rusty
Scared cows kept on mooing
The would bustles here
Always moving quickly
Missing small things
Like life growing in cracks
These small flowers fighting
Living where trees gave up long ago
Living where most grass is fake now
Surviving even when no one cares
Okay now I am caught up again and I can finish this thing!! (I say with little confidence since I already fell too asleep once.
CHS to CLT. CLT to STL.
Baby steps aided by flexeril
and hydrocodone, backpack
weighted for counter balance.
I wait in line to pass through
security, guzzle the remnants
of my Nalgene water lest they
make me “dispose of it.” As if that small
amount of water could bring down
a plane. As if they could stop
it. Remove your shoes, laptops
in separate bins. Empty your pockets.
We all have it memorized since 9/11.
Boarding passes come on phones
now. I’ll bet no one predicted that.
Baby steps to the lectern. Baby
steps through the line. Slowly,
slowly. Baby steps to Terminal B, to
the gate. Courtesy check for my
rolling luggage? Yes Ma’am. Solid
tip. Cool of flexeril rolls down.
CHS to CLT. CLT to STL.
There and back again.
Write a poem about your childhood. Ideally this poem should contain between 1 and 5 numbered sections.
Mount Olive
I saw a sign at the graveyard, Now Hiring:
Sales professional. But who would want to work
there knowing you’re the cause of more Dad,
you’re the coolest balloons floating in the wind?
There’s an app for that basic function the replacement is cold…
Metal that is, never tired never old.
The response for that question from a prompt in a chat on a screen
and the thing most needed is to have someone to look at the problem with eyes keen
Sometimes the swift option is secure. Still there is something about the irreplaceable human spirit that will endure.
There is something about a smile, there is depth to a touch, there can be healing in an embrace, there is so much that only another can do.
meant to reduce errors and increase efficiency. Understood still I would like someone to talk to me.
On the rooftop there was a patch of grass
A tree
Flowers
and a bench
On the street there was nothing green to be scene
So rather than be grounded I head to the top of the world
Just to breathe.
jj2019 2019 Poetry Marathon
Small and soft
Quick and sharp
They can love deeply
But hate deeply as well
They like to be the center of attention
Unless you give them too much attention
Or try to pet them too much
Fickle loyal creatures these cats
Yay one more typed up. I writing everything in a notebook before posting. So I had to write up a few quickly before I started posting to get caught up again. But I now am (just one more to post).
From window pots to garden plots
forgo the cemetery, for if you’re wise you’ll make your choice
trees, flowers, fern and berry
We have recomposition and Capsula Mundi
because we are more civilized
We choose rebirth straight from the earth
over metals that won’t soon die
Our concrete jungles weren’t friendly, our carbon footprint we be-moan
now some of us have found a way to give back the life we have on loan
You’ve seen it in the alleys, in the broken bottle mess
You’ve seen it in the subways, and everywhere’s else, I guess
Our streets are much too crowded
Buildings codes eschew
We dreamed there was a better way,
I’ll bet that you did too!
Nature finds a way, you see the flowers poking through
the cement of the broken sidewalk,
That flower could be you!
Upon a new horizon your future will not waste
decay is not a fail-safe that complies post-haste
With a promise of release
from rust and ranker in the cold
You’ll rest with perfect peace
in gardens made of light
when you choose
our sweet respite,
a field of kindly eldritch delight !
A single thought
lingers
unattached
and then it floats away
A thread
weaves words
and people
until no one remembers to water it.
Then it quietly fades away
A train of thought
whistles,
calls you aboard,
then swoops you off and on
to a new adventure.
I’m off to buy a ticket!