24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
You left me here closed from the world from my family from any sort of a friend. My world grows small smaller smallest each passing hour each passing minute into moment as I feel my head grow small around my brain tight, tighter, tightest as I struggle to breathe while my chest clenches my heart harsh, harsher, harshest. You left me here closed from the world from my family any hope for a friend. You have grown cruel, crueler, cruelest.
its warm in here and so coming out doesn’t seem right
questions arise as to whether I should go
I can’t anyway, it’s not time yet
I suppose she decides when I can come out or maybe it’s me who gets to choose
but if it’s on me then what happens when I get out of here?
will they introduce me to the world?
will they like me if she does?
Time is not linear but it feels like forever and I want to be glad to arrive
It’s tight in here and the stretch is near
stuck and aware of how long it’s been
holding on and fighting the urge to stay with the fear
It’s getting to hot to stay in here
We I open the/my our first Intentional Community
In a small house with 6 people( 5 + me )
The heart, growing together, with 2 entries
That both lead to thriving: Arts and Healing…
It starts in a small house
In a small road
Where the light shines
With many laughs and smiles
It grows quickly as we all live
Around dancing together – Biodanza
And expressing ourselves
Every day, every night
We keep growing because
We are all committed and enjoying
Being naked – true
To each other
I once knew a man named Buck
Who one evening was down on his luck
He was kicked out his house
By his psychotic spouse
Who clearly did not give a fuck
Yeah his lady had drunk too much wine
She called him an ass and a swine
When she did not cease
Buck called the police
So she choked him to death with some twine
When grass is green,
and buds line the trees,
When flowers bloom,
and rain falls in the meadow
So shall be born,
the once and future king.
First son of the first Pendragon king,
shall unite and bring peace to all Brits.
Demons and darkness will try to stop him,
but the stone sword will show him to be true.
(Written to potentially be included in the King Arthur reimagined novel that I am currently writing)
At the end of days
as twilight dims hope
we will rise into love
infused with authenticity
and the knowing of infinite
possibilities as twilight
becomes the dawn.
One cat is on the toilet,
The other cat is in the sink.
The dog whines wanting to play.
The floor is hard.
The toilet bowl is cold.
The odor from the litter box permeates the room.
The storm rages outside.
We wait.
The warning lifts.
The door opens and we are free at last.
Ken
Flame harbored within me
Flicker of cosmic fire
When kindled grows into passion
Roaring brightly with desire
Ken, sixth in Freya’s Et
Lighthouse on the journey
Guiding safely through the storm
Into the hearth of hearts, so sternly
Passing knowledge to each generation
Pulling from heart’s light
Overcoming worldly limitations
With a forging might
A transforming torch
That lights the path well
For a seeker to see clearly
Messages across the veil
Falling
falling
falling,
she found herself sitting atop what used to be her kitchen table,
no clue as to what spurred her transformation.
She looked up, saw the once miniature figurines with which she had been working
now enormous and staring back at her small frame.
She was inside the fairy garden.
To her left, the wooden house she had been building, no longer quiet and still.
It now stood tall and full of flitting fae.
The air seemed to sparkle as the creatures moved around their home,
wings never ceasing.
To her right, the forest was guarded by an elder
an old oak tree privy to spells and incantations
which she had never dreamed could be real.
He kept a calm smile on his stoic face,
pointing her in the right direction.
She began to walk into the forest she had once
been so involved in creating.
As she reached the small pond,
a rock sculpture of a beautiful fairy woman
began to move! She spoke to the girl,
her hair moving with the sounds of the water
beneath her.
“Wake up”
she whispered
And the girl did.
She looked around as she rubbed her eyes,
shook off a smile
grabbed her glue and got back to work.
From the day I brought you home
full of life, full of potential
I tried my best to give you what you needed
Bright sunlight, but not direct
Water once a week
a nice big pot for growing
But it has not been enough.
The first leaf dropped and I thought,
Oh, this is just from the trauma of the big move
Then another, and another, and another.
Entire branches came off.
I began to worry.
The weeks went by.
I called my mother.
She didn’t know what I was doing wrong.
Healthy leaves one day fall off dead the next
I run my hand over you, and you drop another five.
You are a shadow of your former self, only so many leaves left
I don’t know what to do.
You are dying in front of my eyes.
And all I can do is pick up your dead body parts off my floor.
I am sorry I brought you here.
I wish I had known.
RIP Houseplant.
You deserved better
