24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
another hour starts
as the last one ends
and so ends my journey
for today.
I have been here
but for a short while
a moment of happiness
a feeling of belonging
and the spirit of never giving up
this short moment held
all that and more
much more than I could ever write!
Dear Fiona at age twenty-one
Do not worry about what’s to be done
You are powerful now, you always will be
As long as you start loving me
Listen carefully to the truth in your heart
The decades to come will be the hard part
Although for now you believe their lies
One day you will learn how to rise
Your old soul has plans for you
When the moment arrives you will know what to do
Seek the messages that you send
From future you and your best friend
(Write a poem that contains at least five of the following words and possibly all ten.
Moonbeam Coffee Hush Fog Canteen Damn Concrete Fir Shelf Dock)
Perched on a moonmbean, sipping cold brewed coffee
In the hush of a London Fog, I lost you
Your canteen overflowing with damn sap instead of red wine
No concrete plans to use the fir liquor for anything useful
Meditating on the shelf life of dock spiders
When will this madness end?
Reveal your true self
Acknowledge your faults
Investigate your desires
Never back down
Dive into what you love
Reveal your inner truth
Open your soul
Push yourself to new discoveries
Stand up for who you are
Nah
Not my style
Going to pass
And stick
With what I know
So you can drop the prompt
But it just isn’t for me
Thanks all the same
(Book 99 #19338
and the end of my first ever Poetry Marathon! Half Marathon has been a whole experience.)
First I had to tell myself.
Always the hardest part.
17 years spent ignoring and repressing.
Then I had to tell my friends.
All were happy for me.
They were trying to be authentic too.
Then it was time to tell my family.
Mom took it well.
Dad appeared to take it well.
Flash-forward and now,
I don’t speak to him.
Those meant to support you can’t always handle it.
You hold my hand
Maybe a little too long
Maybe a little too often
I know it’s me who ask you
But you know, like me – if not more
That I must leave soon for a distant travel
To meet this great Unknown
Who will tell me the secret
To find the secret without traveling
Staying on the spot, without moving
Without moaning,
To find your hand in a sigh
Like a paper old cocoon
I have bent back the husk
of another year
and scuffled it open,
and only time will say
if it reveals a dream
or a nightmare.
J. Pratt-Walter
6/22/2019
Dear Former Self,
You are extraordinary.
Don’t let anyone tell you differently. They lie when they call you fat.
Don’t believe your own self doubt. You are smart enough, strong enough, & enough just the way you are.
You do not have to earn love. It is freely given and no misdeed can change it.
Do not be afraid. Your silence isn’t safety. Your words are your power.
Strength already lies inside you. Your body is capable of healing.
Your heart will heal, too. A broken heart is both an emotional and physical pain, like your anxious burning gasps when you fell off the jungle gym in third grade.
Do not stop dreaming. Dream big, dream often.
You do not need to find yourself. You are not lost. You are creating an extraordinary you with every choice, every act, every day.
A girl and a guy walk into a bar like the start of some bad joke.
There’s some country-pop-Americana band playing in the corner under the Bud Light sign and no one dancing on the parquet.
It’s the best summer of his life, only he doesn’t know it.The girl is pretty, in a married five years with two kids kind of way. It is not the best summer of her life. It’s the summer he’ll leave–but no one knows that yet, not even him, for he pretends everything’s fine except that maybe he looks a little too long at the waitress when she drops the longneck on the sticky table.
He doesn’t look at his wife; she crosses her legs and swings one booted foot and watches the bartender, wishing she could sit at the bar and have the conversations that her husband won’t have with her.
The band plays, but no one’s listening.