24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Remember in the springtime when the Rose’s were in bloom?
The garden was soaked with rain drops, and was alive with their perfume.
You promised me your heart, kissed my lips and promised we would never part.
But as springtime turned to summer, and autumn filled the air, then winter froze the the roses.
You said you didn’t care.
Once a thing of beauty can now only bring me pain, when I see springtime bring the roses in the rain…
C. Burgess (c)
As an avid reader
It is always a
Life changing experience
To find
Not merely a book
But a series
Which will touch you
Long after the book
Or the series
Has ended
My hat is off
To Ms Gabaldon
For providing just that
And then some
In her Outlander series
(Book 99 #19335)
Underlying layers of a person leading a self to be unearth
Underneath circumstances leading to its own findings
Fulfilling the dimensions of knowledge of a self
Confounding tremors of exchanges forming into a being
To transcend and to lead a path to his Being
Be a part of fulfillment unto life
Prompt # 11 Hour # 9
5:00 AM PHT 23/06/2019
I despise cranberry sauce,
Stand-up comedy, black licorice,
Jazz with words, and whistling.
I love Ink joy gel pens,
scary stories, children’s books,
And sea turtles.
I think all of these qualify me as a perfect seventh grade teacher.
A moment is all there is.
A time long enough to choose,
a word said, a face turning away.
Trapped, in the air between your teeth,
clenched breath unable to release
all that was lost when the words
were said, when those other words
were unsaid. Trapped in the failed past,
locked out forever from a future which
promised to be brighter than
the hour I currently believe.
Such a small sliver of life, of time,
justifying ages of pain that proceed.
All for reasons that never amounted
to the weight they bore. Still unable to
unload them, imprisoned to that fatal minute,
when all the world changed
without changing anything.
Oof! Almost missed this hour due to… shenanigans…
Looks like it’s another haiku from me for now.
It’ll be interesting to see how I pick up in the wee hours when I’m good and drunk…
Tell me what I am
So mutable my substance
I am only clay
If I get killed for reading trans poetry
in coffeeshops, paint my name across
the side of every building in the city. Make
my boy-name your crowbar, and wedge it in
tight underneath your statehouse. Etch each
letter into stone, knowing the rain and wind
will one day erase it. Let there be no funeral
procession, no escort, no police in my parade,
Turn parade back into riot. Say it ends here.
Remember the days before 1969, before
all the words we had to describe the weights
lodged against us, only stones and bars
with no windows. Remember the names
that no one ever taught you, and put mine
right beside theirs. If I get killed for reading
trans poetry at coffee shops, know that
I’m not sorry for anything except
the queer losses I could not prevent.
sitting among the rows of corn
the dried broken husks underneath me
his legs wrapped around mine
arms circling my shoulders
as i rest my head against the strength
of his chest
he kisses my cheek
whispers about how i am
all his
the wind rustling the stalks
surrounding us
I search the blank space
for crows
as his heart beats
against my ear
lying to me
Take a title of one of your favorite books and write a poem using that title as your title. Your poem can interact directly with the book or not at all. It is just the jumping off point.
OR
Look at your bookshelf or the main page of goodreads and pick a title of a book you have never read and know very little about. Turn that title into the title of your poem. Where you go from there is up to you.
Rise and shine
Sunshine
The steam from this cup
Wakes up
Shakes up
Full adrenaline pump
Sight to weary eyelids
Direct to restless hearts
25% tip slip
This liquid meant to jump start
Gear shift
Come near
This cup lift and pass not by
The darkness is the start of the journey and the reason why
Lethargy loves to hold you
And raise you to their lips
First thing in the morning needs you
Believe that
Be the sip