24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
The last day, just before…
Before the Great Collapse
I am with you
You’re not snoring – for once
The last day, we already feel
The lack of breath in the fins
The last day we are still together
I tell you “Look at me in the eyes… deep inside”
I’m not the one you believe I am
Quite the opposite
How didn’t you guess?
After all this time
It’s too late
Now
We’ll never be together again
So many fantastic stretches
rise before me full of
bones and tattered bridges that
break no one’s falls
I’ve asked sweet things
of terrible people and had the
nerve to play victim to
their inevitable disinterest
We pity fools for playing
their part without the courage
to admit our own roles
in the pages we write
moonbeams in my coffee
soon the hush, will fall over
the concrete jungle
And the damn fog
will come rolling in
upon the dock
pouring from an
empty canteen
she’ll set the finished works
on the dusty shelf of fir
Amanda Potter©: 2019 Poetry Marathon
.
There were once seven bears –
three were black, three were polar,
one was bi-polar.
The remains of my day –
one boiled egg, left-over corn flakes,
a dab of butter
The remains after surgery –
one left ventricle, four optic nerves,
a handful of vertebrae
.
On the day Mary was alone
She tried to create her clone
She worked with deep brown soil
Slaving away in wasted toil
‘Cos Man was dust plus life force
A special blend of blood and bone
Poem 9
Peace
By: Ashley L Powers
Solitude
Stillness
Alignment
Lightness
Frequencies freely flowing
Enjoyment
Laughter
Reclaiming everything once stolen
Completeness
Fulfillment
Positive vibes
Connection
Exiting the matrix
Joyous moments
Mindfulness
All the things needed to take back…..
….my inner peace ☮️
poem 10
I still remember how you looked
the night we first met,
your golden eyes illuminated in the moonbeams.
Something about the way you smiled
made me feel things,
like I was standing at the edge of a dock,
about to dive,
unsure what I would encounter in the depths.
First friends, then lovers,
our memories were made between the hush of the summer’s breeze
and the fog that drifted up from our coffee.
As time passed by,
yours was the face I looked for in a crowd
and the smile I longed for
on lonely days.
We faded,
like autumn leaves;
our love was most beautiful
before it fell apart.
I met you in the moonlight
and lost you in the blinding light of day.
Years have passed,
but I still have your picture on my shelf.
-h.e.m.
Nauthiz
Weaved within the law of cosmic balance
Knots in the web cause ‘need fire’ reaction
Driven to turn stresses to strengths
Needs & distress release, no longer a distraction
Changing Fate, with knowledge & wisdom
The Norn orlog tablets for re-casting
A newly grounded force of reality
Is brought into positive action
Nauthiz operates by what necessity dictates
Not what you desire or wish
Skuld veils all future fate
To profess otherwise is foolish
He didn’t mean to die,
and break his daddy’s heart,
that poor little Willy, but he did.
We almost lost our Mr. Lincoln to grief.
Only the kind spirits saw the danger,
knew what had to be done, and selflessly
applied limited etheric skills to pull the boy
from the clutches of schlerosis. To pull daddy
back from his shocked, catatonic state.
The scene was chaotic, as one might expect
when a hodgepodge of circus clowns, comedians,
fathers and doting mothers in various states of decay
confer on strategies best avoided by the living,
and as certain to confuse .
But Mr. Lincoln was closer to joining them himself
than any living person could see. He felt their pull,
and let them lead him back to his boy.
The urgency of his love broke through to his son.
Willy’s spirit raised itself up just in time to be saved
from eternal misery. His spirit arose with a clap
of thunder to the afterlife, and Mr. Lincoln’s spirit
was yanked through the graveyard fence, away from the place.
The spirits drifted back to their flamboyant displays and
collegial mutterings, no emotion attached to the scene
they had created. It had had to be done, and they did it.
A few of their number were rewarded.
They ascended, to the bafflement of the others.
To the bafflement of the readers.
To understanding only of the brilliant writer who gave them life.
And one other, for whom the spirits of the bardo solved
a long-standing literary problem.
(I am uncomfortable posting this as a poem, but the hour is up and I have no time to revise now. Pretend it is poetry until I can make it so! :))
The Great Alone
_________________
How heavy is the world?
You asked your dad
before realizing it
weighed him down
How far to the moon?
You asked your mom
before knowing its
vastness consumed her
How is want, a brother
And need, a sister?
You asked the universe before
blowing out your birthday candles
How full are my dreams?
You asked yourself
before facing
the great alone