24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Every, if I could, if only,
Virginia Carraway Stark
Every muscle is slow and straining
On this saturdau morn
If I could stretch just a little bit further
I could poke through my skin
bird wings would spring free
From gashed skin
and every weakness would fall beneath me
Assuming I only knew how to use them…
I would learn how to use them
Now that the moment has come
The sun glitters
Off the lake water
Until it burns
Your irises
And you squint
Across the liquid surface
To the forest across.
You hold on
To the edge of the dock
Feeling course wood
Grate against your palm
The cool mist
That lingers on your dusty feet
and turning it into mud
Is a sharp contrast
Against the blazing sun
On your back.
I am stronger than you know,
I am taller than I look,
I am smarter than my grades say
I am better than I am
I am whatever I want to be
I am me
the big fish
when i visit the whale
he is alone somewhere off
the cold pacific coast
singing a playfully melancholy
refrain across a 1000 miles
he eyes me with utter disdain
yes whales can (or he could)
disdain with the best of them
“doubting again are we?” he booms
inside my head & beyond the galaxy
i wish i have a witty reply
but he knows everything
that’s deep inside me, so i
simply sigh & smile whereupon
he takes me on his back
& reminds me how to fly
I wrote this poem
As a random collection of thoughts
Cause my brain
Was tied up in knots
And it came to me
Just write what you see
I sit in my room
Under the fan
Patterns on the ceiling
I never noticed before
I need coffee
Keeps my mind from reeling
All these words
Such a jumble
But sometimes
That’s the way
The cookie crumbles
Hands shaking
Minds changing
Peace making
Skies blue
Eyes witnessing
Ears listening
Hearts ministering
Words true
Arms dropping
Harm stopping
Opportunity knocking
For more than few
Great debating
Love making
War taking none
Do you
Have a dream too
A quarter is a fortune when you’re young
And the machines at the grocery store hold precious treasure
A quarter once could buy a phone call
Before there was a phone in every purse and pocket to be used at your leisure
A quarter could be saved away
Rolled up and taken to the bank when things got lean
A quarter at the Laundromat
Could get your clothes washed and clean
A quarter in the jukebox
Played fast and slow songs all night
A quarter at a toll booth
Keeps traffic moving along alright
A quarter can be as much or as little as you see fit
For me it means six hours of work, and eighteen more before I quit
Broken little girl
Sitting in the corner wallowing in self pity
For all that has been done to her
Broken and shattered
Torn and weathered
Her heart is in shambles on the floor
Who is this girl
Why wont she fight
Get your ass up
Fight the battle in which they chose to create
Destroy and demolish
Take your power back, take yourself back
Show them who you are
Make them never be able to forget you
Write a poem about being stuck in a very small place, actually or metaphorically.
or
Write a poem about being locked out, actually or metaphorically.
the unraveling
_______________
ill-lit
the space cramped
i feel my way
with shaking hands
un-
familiar, earth damp
knowing i’m
not in command
of my thoughts.
the direction unknown
i travel forward
for nights on end
memories
upturned, not sown
a fork in the brain
begins the bend
folding,
like a poker hand
grip slips
the loss is real
fading food
like hourglass sand
heavy, weighted
winter’s peel
banana…
beach…
thick…
snow drift.