24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
There is a ghost under the old oak tree,
dreaming of a past life when he roamed free
Confined to this place now where he loved and toiled,
still wearing clothes stained with sweat and soil
He wonders, how much longer is his sentence in purgatory?
What tasks must he complete to ascend to glory?
He pauses for a moment, then begins to turn
reaches his fingers out to touch the Resurrection Fern
I was playing 3-person Hearts
and, for once, not even thinking of you.
To my right was my dead father,
to my left, Death himself. I couldn’t see his face
but his hands were white and thin.
I wanted dad to win, so I gave him all my high-cards:
Ace of Hearts
King of Hearts
Queen of Hearts
Predictably, I lost quickly, so I left the table.
Upon waking, I realized
in order to cheat Death
I had given you away.
she roamed the mornings alone
over sand and weed and stone
along the lines of the wandering tides
she spent the nights in this arms
for his warm breath on her hear
to protect her from nightmares
as she journeyed between worlds.
He loved everything airy and light:
traveling and laughter,
unicorns and weed.
He hated everything in the deep:
Deep thoughts and conversations,
emotions and being loved.
And he hated me.
The backstreets are our eternal home. We’d run through it all like
diamonds in the rough who never knew their full value. I still miss the endless nights
we’d capitulate to our inhibitions and watch the chips fall where they don’t.
The tranquil autumn breeze perfectly complemented our laconic adventures, rolling down hills without regard for the abstract concept known as tomorrow. Then the ground caved in and we were caught on opposite sides. Before long, the schism had torn us apart.
Two days becomes two years as the pages become detached from the calendar. Now we work to make our paths converge once more, knowing all the while it’ll never be the same but still trying to render it as such nonetheless. As the sun sets, we hear a voice whispering over the horizon.
“This city will forever enshrine us in its memory.”
(Photo credit: Matthew Emmett, cover of Forgotten Heritage)
A tunnel of lives appears before me
my lives, lived and some not yet.
Delicate encroachments of growth
remake the annals of time
the incarnations of my being
all in one vision of me
all at one time, now,
then and forever.
He prefers three things strictly:
A good wife, a poet and a cup of coffee
With these he can converse with anyone happily
Disregards loud mouth and curses
Curses that hurt and provide pains
Hating unwise decisions and mess
He chose me among the rest.
It was beautiful
The valley was vast
Full of Flowers
There was no trek to follow
You decided your own path
Her wish came true
Finally she was bale to take her own decisions
Decide her own fate
Master of her destiny
She was no more worried about the path
Her destination suddenly became clear
I live for your furry face To come home to your warm kisses and thankful eyes We don't deserve dogs, you keep me alive. I would die without your calming face Sweet whiskers and purr that relaxes my mind Cats are the most perfect companion to find. But me, I have kids. Pets
jj2019 2019 Poetry Marathon
When grasses grow from black to gray and wet with dew,
The awkward totter of the limping god comes tramping through.
The mocking cackle of the laughing god
And misty eyed Sounds Perfect scurrying too.
Then humans ought to show a little sway;
Like Nudge One Inch growing less immaculate every day,
And Silky Ears and All Over The Place too
Who talk too much with nothing much to say.
“I wonder why I built these beasts?” says Limping God
“These out-of-kilter cocky, smelly clods.
And yet they’re lovely in a slanted way.
I have a thought to thicken up their blood.”
Sounds Perfect wept to see such devastation,
While laughing god fell into furious cachinnation.