24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
I am living in someone else’s house
Decorations meant to soothe
but sharp edges cut my consciousness
None of this is mine
and while I am here I must care for it
Doorknobs run on electricity
and cameras viewing the outside world
I will be glad to leave here
Hope isn’t just 4 lettered word
It is beyond that.
It is uncertainty, affirmation, a mix of everything yet nothing.
I see hope in colours, in speeches, in pauses, in the eyes.
Maybe, 26 alphabets arent enough to describe it.
It opposes perfection yet surpasses ambiguity.
Wake up at five
brush teeth and hair
Slick it down
not an errant curl
Quick cup of coffee
time for a cherry poptart
feed my pups quickly
wishing for more time to play
Take the old jeep
to the depot station
Stand in line with strangers
study my notes for the day
Board a train with others like me
wishing to be somewhere else
Wondering if they also wished to be
someone else like me
Sometimes I hear him
at the back of my mind
or I hear him
in an empty room
his hand inhabits mine
and guides me
to a calmer state
I see him in the mirror
when I look too quickly
and unguarded
his eyes are mine
staring back at me
I call on him sometimes
when I know I won’t be calm
he says the words I need to say
and makes them acceptable
then push him back
while he stares at me
waiting for me to accept him
I was constantly made to feel like I was a burden for existing. It’s not really my mother’s fault that this is the case. I was a burden for existing to her; I was not on purpose, I was not chosen, I was not selected, I was not carefully, intentionally, curated. That all came much later. When I can recognize the cycles she was a part of the cycles I was raised in and refused to stay in them.
If I had a dime
For each time I was ‘too much’
At least I’d be rich
Running on empty.
Running out of time.
Always running,
rarely resting.
Now I’m running out of rhyme.
She wakes up with
a bit of whimsy
Because she has a special closet
A closet of dreams
she can go anywhere
she can be anything
She is never ever lonely
Because she has special friends
In her closet of dreams
she can play with them
she can dance with them
She goes to bed with a bit of whimsy
Because she has a closet of dreams
And inside they wait for her
Well, well, well, hour 24.
I hadn’t thought of what
to write. I had no plans
for 24.
I didn’t know if I’d use
any poetic devices.
I didn’t know how I
would form my prose.
I just wanted to
celebrate as I wrote
this poem. But alas
my mothers not feeling
well, as I key in 24.
I’m waiting on the EMS
to take her for a ride
she’ll go to the ER and
they will get her right.
so, celebrate you all
I am proud of you
you made all the way to
hour #24.
God Bless you…
I don’t want to live up to anymore expectations,
I really don’t have the heart,
to pick up any more of your broken pieces,
when I’m the one who fell apart.
I wish you could make this one moment about me,
but the world revolves around you,
you say who I am is a lie,
but that’s further from my truth.
Our loved ones predicted I’d be on your path,
but I’m not and you still live in the past.
I’m projected to go forward,
those times were never meant to last.
Get with the program,
take a better shot,
in the end,
you’re probably the only one you’ve got.
