24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
you cant rescue me
i’d say to you
well i can show you love
if i knew how to separate
i’d say to you
i dont wanna drag you down
if i knew how to separate
i just wanna keep you safe
i dont wanna drag you down
you cant rescue me
i just wanna keep you safe
well i can show you love
Amanda Potter©: 2019 Poetry Marathon
Technolotree
The trees have Wi-Fi,
but do not give the password out.
The flowers have Bluetooth
which connects them only to the sprouts.
The squirrels keep their iPads
hidden in clefts in hallow trees.
The ducks’ Facebook accounts
are locked with hidden keys.
You knew the forest was peaceful
and seems a gentle lot.
The forest, though, is conspiring,
for they do not wish to be caught.
Joints screaming,
Muscles aching,
Trying for a quiet pain.
An ache that buds instead of blossoms,
Take it today.
Take it tomorrow.
One day,
There’ll be a spill of raven hair on a snow-white pillow,
The brown eyes once vivacious now dulled,
Passing into a restless slumber,
Chasing a quiet pain.
Ghost Karma Episode 1
San Francisco, 1949
Tommy walks down his street
And is mugged by David Dex
Local criminal
Tommy tries to fight
David ran
Ran far away
Ran to his house
Tommy tried to get up
But realised he was dead
Lotus blooms reflect a fountain held by angels. Central Park in spring.
I’ve not been sleeping.
Willing myself to remain in situ, hostage to the factory bell
only confirms that the hours I have are a conceit
of schedules, a yoke I swore I would escape when I prayed to less
flexible gods.
Playing a woman of leisure with no money
isn’t the role I coveted, but, apparently,
it’s the one for which I’ll receive a lifetime achievement award.
I look for phrases to occupy my hands – anything to keep me from
getting up and down every minute a noun shakes itself from my late night promises.
I wade into projects of little urgency,
the completion of which tires me just enough to toss
book and turn off screen.
Tell Melatonin my name.
I have flames to subdue.
A bird is singing,
I hear it, from some far away place so intriguing.
As I slumber in my morning bed,
Deep within myself, a bird is singing.
As I awaken, I find it is not a dream.
Finally it had happened summer is here.
The song of the birds are cheery and bright, on warm summer mornings such as this.
My ancestors bowed to great morning sun, in the courtesy of its great need.
So the bird outside my window greats her eminence with song indeed.
My own song is that summer is here and I can walk and enjoy it’s full glory…
C. Burgess (c)
These hours
Climb one on top of the other
Stacked into infinity
Or three am
Same thing
My body hurts
My back, my head, my soul
Words are flying through the air
Coaxing me to grab them
But I cannot raise my arms
I am stuck
Stuck in these long hours
Fighting the reality
I really have nothing to say
Still I say it
Each hour
Placing one word on top of another
Stacked into infinity
Or three am
When the words will settle down
And I can sleep
I wonder why
Must you be so wrapped up,
In chasing love, like there’s some big rush?
Is it just the watching of other couples,
Engrossed in each other,
Or the crying of an empty heart
To share its laughter and woes?
Those come hard, when the smoke has cleared,
It may appear,
When you least expect it,
In the quiet murmur of the morning;
When the fairies have left the dew,
Someone places a jacket over your shoulders,
And whispers goodnight.