24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Ostentatious sulphur-crested king sporting gilded crown and mischievous smile,
Cockatoos in different hues.
Eastern spinebill curving beak, straw-necked ibis shimmering like oil on water,
An iridescent rainbow of color. Brolga tall and pale stand still like Pacific herons in wetlands and
Near damp retreats.
In scattered pockets, beach thick-knee walks and whistles, cassowaries comb the boardwalk,
Adept dancers, twelve-wire birds of paradise steal the show.
The closet is where monsters lived
I could hear them breathing at night
But during the day it was where
I could escape the real monsters
It was narnia, it was a spaceship
It was the womb, safe and secure
Where the smell of old timber
Old varnish and moth balls
Grew tendrils into my memory
Whispering stories of when
I was Flash Gordon or Nemo
Outer and inner space,
But at night the looming shadow
That fell across the floor
Was where the things lurked
Waiting for me to slip
So they could feast on my exposed feet.
There are skeletons there too
That rattle in the small hours
Of secrets given to the monsters
Of secrets the monsters, the real monsters,
Gave to me
And so I stay half in half out of the closet
Both craving the anonymity of its embrace
And fearing all the things that live there
Things I can never tell another soul
That I told the closet instead.
Hour 8
Our Time
in the time of
saw silhouettes
trees have teeth
shadows are unrooted
Saw silhouettes
green can move
shadows are unrooted
forests clamber back
Green can move
first only in dream
forests clamber back
or wail with mobile branches
First only in dream
trees think of manprey
waiting with mobile branches
ruby, run out of dream into reality
Trees think of manprey
they have teeth
run, run out of dream into reality
in the the time of
Just a smile can make the difference
between a good day and a bad.
When you feel like giving up
a smile like a sweet caress
envelops you with love.
Just like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter’s day.
Enjoying a home cooked meal with all your favorite things
A smile warms your heart in much the same way.
A smile can make you feel special deep down inside.
it’s not hard to share
and the cost won’t even break the bank.
Closets of My Mind
I have closets in my mind
That hold secrets:
Things I wasn’t supposed to know about—
The truth about Santa
Or I wasn’t supposed to do
Play with matches
Or people I shouldn’t have been with—
No names will be disclosed here.
I have locked away things I wished I didn’t know
Or wished I hadn’t seen…
Like the car accident that happened in front of me
And the woman lay bleeding on the road
Crying for her baby
Or the devastation after the tornado
Where parts of houses vanished
And a trampoline was on top of a tall tree
I have closets that hold the pain
Of loved ones who have died,
And the anguish of those assaulted.
Some closets are best kept closed
And some do need to see the light of day.
Cindy Herndon
SOUL SCREAMING
Soul screaming
Broken pieces
Scattered into the unknown
Joy
Laughter
Hugging gently her heart
Soul screaming
Letting go of
Memories of the future – unreachable
Happiness
Gratitude
Bursting like bubbles within
Soul screaming
Moments like petals
Holding tight on her favourite flower
She flew away on the cloud nine
Hour Twelve
Pause and reflect
for cause and effect.
They ask me to wait
as I watch the hands
of a clock hold time
more than I have been-
no rush, just wait
biding my time
in the midst of rhyme
They tell me, “Wait.”
For the next season.
The next opportunity.
For the next day.
Wait…
…on the Lord, I say
as the pieces to God’s puzzle
fall into place-
I wait.
You may know everything about your closet
Unless it has a door
in which case, you will find
that your closet may hold
anything.
Anything
Because
You
Don’t
Know
What’s
Behind
The Door
Oh, you may think you know,
but you don’t know
For
Sure
Oh, you may think it’s full of your stuff
clothes and boxes
mementos and treasures.
but you don’t know
For
Sure
It’s bound to be here somewhere
You
Don’t
Know
Oh, you may think it’s a refuge,
safe and secure
confidential
secretive
but you don’t know
For
Sure
Shit happens
You
Don’t
Know
Oh, you may think it’s a scary place
full of monsters and spiders and clowns
shadow depths
hiding spots galore
but you don’t know
For
Sure
Until that very moment
That very second
The door is opened
You just don’t know.
An Old Home
By American standards our home is old,
created from old growth forests of oak and poplar
on site one hundred and seven years ago,
while the war to end all wars raged on foreign shores.
Its wooden floors slope gently downhill,
spiderweb cracks trace filaments in plaster,
no door or window settles plumb into its casing,
and not a single closet exists.
Nooks, crannies, dormers, and cupboards in eaves abound,
the architectural precursors for closets in homes of later years
exist in all corners, on every level, charming spaces
and reading places are everywhere, but not one closet.
We did not bend it to our will, rather it changed us.
Wardrobes and attics, outbuildings and sheds,
crawl spaces became our norm. Our lives now,
in this sweet old home, are simple, slow, and warm.
a brother
I can’t believe Ryan found him
& not me , not that it matters.
The fact he’s found is far more
Important than who found him.
But he’s thin so so thin. Muffled noise
Beneath my arms: Stell I can’t breathe.
Right , of course. I let him go
Even though I really don’t want to.
I could barely believe my eyes
Seeing him walking beside Rueben.
Clearly talking machine-gun fast as always
Explaining something about mandalas.
He’d watched monks on YouTube
Spend hours making beautiful patterns
Out of coloured sand , taking days
Before sweeping them all away.
Still stunned , I wasn’t keeping up.
What have mandalas & monks to do with us.
S’Where I got the idea of sweeping the sand
Behind me everywhere I went. Disguise.
I still didn’t follow. It didn’t matter.
Ryan smiled down at him. Rubbed his hair.
How to make him mine again. You hungry Rube.
Oh Stell. Like you wouldn’t believe.
& just like that — he was back