24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
On my favorite chair,
cozy and comfortable,
with the cool breeze passing me,
I pondered on the third prompt.
A voice broke the air,
of a being who only hears the television,
who calls out for people who never answer that,
who remembers people who doesn’t even think about her existence.
Mom,sorry.
Break me with your text.
Say goodbye. Say you love me,
But can’t stay longer.
The air is cooler than expected
though it gives in to the sun; distant
traffic a muffled presence as breeze rises
above in the silence of dogs .
A lone seagull calls above the inland twitter;
a neighbor speaks, a lone car passes by –
ordinary moments of a weekend day
business as usual in a quiet city enclave.
But I feel what is missing, struggle to recall
the lurch of your uneven gait beside me;
prefer to recall you striding up Sunset Ridge
as I scramble to catch up, perch on the bridge
sharing gorp and water laughing as the dog
drink-swims the icy stream…
Looking around, I see your absence
and my not-yet-coming-to-terms
that our plans are no longer; yet
I go on. I return from my walk
deadhead the Nova Zemla rhodie by the door,
snip a newly-blooming peony for the house
enter the silence I have just left to find it
alive with sun, comfort of the familiar
and your gentle presence warm
in my heart.
sarahw
Come out at night and know
The world in its afterglow
We might see what we overlook
Because of our daily work
It’s the soft rustle of leaves
As the wind gently brushes
And the cold feel of air
While my fingers comb my hair
The air-conditioning unit hums
While the tots are with their moms
And street light silently screams
Making a poet smiles and dreams
Stealth tiny raindrops land
On roofs and trees and sand
Surely tomorrow a clear dew
That refreshes a morning new
Above, far above you’ll see
Parade of characters feathery
Clouds of every size and shape
Clowns and kings on capes
We thought its silent but we’re wrong
The world we know just sings a song
Its deaffening silence that we know
Is silently doing a show.
I’ve spent enough time on my knees
as a monk
to see that there’s value in being
both drunk
on life as a pilgrim and life as a
a rascal.
But can I live both, to the best
that I’m able?
When I left for the cloister, to
never go back,
I took nothing with me,
just books in a sack.
Discarded my dreams and all
my deep vices.
Tore my old dark soul up in bites
and in slices,
assuming I’d never leave, return
‘to my home’.
Never to wander more.
Never to roam.
I spent many weeks and months,
working at prayer,
being a better man
than I had brought there.
I worked and I cared for the pilgrims
who came.
I learned to live and love life
without shame.
But one winter’s day the hour came
and I knew,
I wasn’t to be a monk. That
certainty grew.
I put on my sandals and,
books in a sack,
I closed my old cloister door,
haven’t looked back.
Last night I sat down with friends.
We smoked and we drank.
We told our old stories
with swagger and swank.
I told of my peace and they spoke
of their smut.
I showed them a picture of me
in my habit.
Tomorrow I’ll have roamed to church,
where my friends they won’t be.
but I’ll make that old gesture,
from down on one knee.
I’ll give there my thanks,
as best as I’m able,
for a life that is lived,
a semi-holy old rascal.
You see,
I’ve spent enough time on my knees
as a monk
to see that there’s value in being
both drunk
on life as a pilgrim and life as a
a rascal.
And I plan to live both, to the best
that I’m able.
the white, elegant one
which you always had on you
you gave one to me too?
the one you told me
everyone had and was important
if I wanted to be considered human?
yes, that’s the one
‘conformity to the norms’
was it?
Thurisaz
Protector and defender of the cosmic order
Help me to guard against unwanted, harmful influence
Surround me with gateways & protective borders
While granting me with awakening experiences
The rose is beautiful yet it has a thorn
I want to pick, I want to adorn
But I am afraid
I don’t want the pain
I don’t want to bleed
The thorn is protection
Yet I have such a need
Overcoming this fear
To access your beauty
This Runic key has such a duty
Ouch ouch ouch
sore feet, antiseptic, echoes of retches
a booming train, rustling leaves
wishful thinking
Lights are dim
Roads empty
No water to swim
Nothing seems to sink
The night is dark
Even stars are asleep
There is nowhere to go
No one to lead
This scene is rare
Still I am there
Imagining a ray of light
approaching towards me
A late night train
Will Teleport me
Into the world of my dreams…
As her hand falls away
My world begins to crumble
As the hair lines her face
The darkness engulfs her
Left alone grasping at straws
I kneel left empty of all
The dreams of an age
Lay empty as death
As the pain fades away
Can I ever embrace it?