24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
She walks by in midnight attire
Blood curdling red like wine
Veins pulsating with every breath
Every step further into the darkness
Her voice cried out a howl
Unlike anything I have ever heard
In an instant she was my madness
She was my poison
I was forever under her spell
In the dark, in the vast open space
I search for a grip, something to reveal my place.
A gift in the deep night did appear.
Pinholes of light to lift my fear.
Horizons so far, drawn by great heights.
My way was alight with hopes and dreams
of the beauty around me
I could not before see.
Prompt 4
There is something wonderful about the way
you used to sit with me
in early morning darkness,
both of us wondering
about life’s mysteries.
Four years old
and already you were eager
to seize the world.
Though you did not know it,
your loyalty touched me.
Excitement raced through me
each time you woke me
in with hushed eagerness,
ready to play.
We spent hours imagining,
creating,
contemplating.
Time flew by as the minutes ticked past,
slowly growing closer to 6am.
In our youth we saw
what so many seem to forget:
There are some things
more important than sleep.
We were the best of friends,
spending our early mornings
with games of pretend.
My brother, you have grown so fast,
but these memories will last forever.
-h.e.m. 11:00 am
Sitting in the grass fields,
sucking on lavender roots;
some bitter reminder that
yesterday is forever gone.
Riding with no saddle along
cobblestone roads, broken
by centuries of chains.
Confetti flecks of crimson.
Sunny hours marked by
midday drizzles, and the
prisms of color left behind:
holy and hollow both.
Wild winter nights under
midnight blankets pocked
with quartzite watchers
who never dared touch us.
I have fur on my arms
But I’m not a bitch.
I have fog in my brain
but I’m not a ditz.
I starve myself
Of things that I need
So you will like me
Please like me.
The only thing I can be is pretty
So am I pretty yet?
I’ll change my hair if you want
Give me a knife
And I’ll scrape the fat off my bones.
the blank page
stares at me
mockingly
breathe, push, fight
concentrate
come on, write!
pen to page
words flow free
POETRY!
(Tricube rules: three syllables per line, three lines per stanza, three stanzas per poem)
The spices were fresh picked
From the garden this morning
And having been washed and dried
Now lay in the summer sunshine
To dry
As I finished wiping my hands
On my apron
I saw the butterfly
Land gently
Upon the spiced orange slices
Which would soon fill
Sachet bags
To sweeten my wardrobe
Throughout the fall months
For a moment I stood transfixed
Watching as the butterfly sat
And I knew
At that moment
That my task
Had been deemed good
Not just good enough
By my forebears
I saw wings
fluttering
and thought
tis’ a butterfly
It was a moth
no worries though
they all are beautiful!
As I walk through the forest deep, and look beyond through the trees.
As I watch the sunlight filter through the leaves, to give light through the darkness there, so I may see.
Mother Earth,
With every bloom, with greenery all around, I feel the softness of the grassy ground.
I fall to my knees to hold the earth in my hands, to breathe in the beauty that surrounds me.
I feel my heart beating as if I am one with the earth, and silently say say thank you Mother Earth.
For the air I breathe the water I drink, and fire that burns inside my soul at night, and the beautiful earth on which I reside.
As my heart fills with love and understanding of it all, even when I walk in the forest all alone, my Mother Earth is with me.
On each and every journey I take she is within my heart and soul as I awake, to see the beauty of Mother Nature…
C. Burgess (c)
Unconscious, trees breathe, alive, but not sentient.
Likewise, we breathe, knowing few secrets
of the spiritual
in which
we are immersed;
We splash about the unfathomable deep,
teeming with forces
for good
and bad–
Buoyant with life itself,
We drift in the sunshine
Of good days
Of bright tomorrows
Of warm yesterdays—
Heedless of the unseen
invisible lifeguards,
life rafts,
shrill blasts of warning whistles.
And we,
oblivious,
just keep swimming.