24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Youth is when your skin is soft,
your drive hard and your mind,
somewhere in between
It is luscious afternoons of mingling
body heat, the expanse of new experiences,
and bonfires at the beach until the break of dawn
… then you wake to find a grey hair.
The blues!
Rock!
I loved the music
my parents called sinful,
so locked in, they were, to the idea
that only gospel
could carry me to heaven.
I gave up their gospel
for my music,
found heaven
in a wailing guitar.
Hello, friend, my name is Bup.
Small and green and soft,
I am mostly made of moss.
Tonight, on fish I’ll sup.
I waddle to the creek.
My trek is very long.
I sing my trekking song.
My voice is rough and meek.
By the time I reach the stream,
my tiny legs are weary,
and though my eyes are teary,
I cannot help but beam.
The water’s full of little fishes,
so delectable and plump!
And with one mighty jump,
I have my choice of dishes.
I slurp down a nice grey minnow.
Its taste is smooth and sweet.
The current ruffles mossy hands and feet.
My panging hunger begins to winnow.
All a sudden, I’m going up!
A giant beak holds me fast.
I do fear my time has passed.
Farewell, friend, my name was Bup.
Do you miss me? When the snow swallows your house And your only company is in your dreams? Do you dream of me? I dream of you, Through warm Mediterranean nights When the air is soft around me I wonder, I hope, That your winter quilt is softer. Spring is coming soon I'm scared to return to you, though why I cannot say. Perhaps it's because I know That when you see me You will say "I miss you, Did you miss me too?"
You suggested turning back to join the crowd watching
the bald eagle in the field, but I said to keep going, the long drive ahead of us.
There is no inspiration for poetry, no joy in the memories.
Abuse recolors them, strips away even the nostalgic remembrance
of happier times in a lost relationship. Stripped the magic
from the rooftop of the cathedral in Milan, walking amongst the statues
with my broken toe and gazing over the city, from the crashing
moving fractals of the devil’s waterfall in Iguazu that overwhelmed my mind
in a way I’ve never felt before, from the marketplace in Cordoba
where I picked up the toadstool earrings from a local artisan,
far from the tourist markets of the capital city with their Argentina-stamped leather.
Will a day come when I have snipped your picture from the photographs of my mind,
be able to talk about the view from the window we–I–saw
overlooking the roof of the church from my temporary living room
without that hesitation of a shadow over my heart where your figure should be.
Fools
& Cowards
Empowered
Build An Empire
Watch It Fall
Twin Towers
9/11 Was An Inside Job
My first friend,
My best friend
Sensitive soul,
Tough cookie
Secret sharer,
Secret keeper
Eyes deep like the ocean,
Eyes crisp like the midnight sky
Rules and games,
Nature’s way
Realistic,
Idealistic
Big brother,
Little sister
Mary Gabis
6/22/19
There is a place on your chest
Carved in your breastbone
Where my head fits perfectly
as if we were meant to click
like when we first met
and I stumbled over my shoelaces
and into your arms
when my soul said to yours
“Where have you been?”
Wunjo
Temporary & Fleeting
You are my major block
I must have the other seven in sync
before your magick unlocks
Fehu, Uruz, Thurisaz,
I embrace and galdr well
Ansuz, Raidho, Ken
Make me journey deep inside my shell
Gifu, however
Leaves no one by my side
Equality of time & self
Was only just implied
My happiness is something
I find hard to maintain
For now I will just gift it out
And hope Wunjo returns to me again
He tied her up,
She held him down
With a fierce love they were bound to each other.
Passionate fires
Built on the ice of regret
Levees damning the drowning pools of fear
Their souls were freed by bond they forged.