24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Clad in a black and
Beautiful dress, she waits
Her eyes on the door
Never wavering till it
Opens, revealing at last….
The pizza guy with her order of
A double cheese pizza
With extra topping
And Coco-cola.
No dessert though, she’s dieting.
I’m the best negotiator to ever hold office.
I will make the best deals in the history of deals.
I can talk China into moving jobs here
before you can draw up a contract.
The Presidents who took office before me
will wish they could have been as good
a President as I’ll be President.
You want to fire your missiles at us?
I have a strategy to disarm your missiles
before they leave the launch pad,
but I won’t tell you because I want you
worried about what I’ll do next.
Besides, why would you fire at us.
I can make you a deal so good
you’ll want to become the 51st state.
And if you won’t take the deal,
I’ll wipe you off the map.
Prompt 21
I can feel it in my bones,
i get nervous and itchy,
when in the mid afternoon
slowly descends on the city
the evening fog.
It will cloud us,
isolate and underline our loneliness,
even in the mid afternoon
it will seem like bed time, once he descends,
the evening fog.
The lights are on bright an cheerful
the computer switched off and the coats on our arms
ready for the exodus home
but we huddle together
wait for each other
before we descend into the evening fog.
I envy the black silk
That caresses your body
Touching you in ways
No man could compare.
A marvelous artist with a perfect eye captured her better than a photographers’ lens.
Her countenance stood out from the shadows showing the victory over her pain.
Her porcelain skin was flawless and yet looked cold to touch.
She now lived comfortably in her soft, black velvet gown.
Although her hands seemed fragile, her face announced her strength.
Many years of training her body to behave gave the garment a graceful place to reside.
Yes, she was confident. She earned every bit of that emotion.
She fit into every expectation of her regal station, yet her mind knew she broke every mold.
jj2017
In a caricature of life and all its ambitions,
he licked his salted paws and went into the funhouse.
There, he found new definitions and parameters
in the concave and convex exaggerations.
At the twenty-first hour of consciousness,
When my cortex has been
Sliced,
Lightly battered,
Deep-fried,
And garnished with lime,
A spider crawls into my ear.
It travels up the aural canal,
Gets to the ear drum and says,
“Hey,
I want to go further.
I’m trying to get to the calamari,
Excuse me.”
And, of course, the ear drum says nothing.
“Fine,” the spider says. “I’ll find another way.”
So, it exits the ear, crosses my forehead,
(grumbling all the way)
And enters the opposite one.
“Haha,” it says. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
But of course, it encounters the opposite ear drum.
“Are you for real?” The spider complains,
“Forget it, I’ll just see what’s on the web.”
Broken culverts
Beneath fallen trees
Pushed to a jumble.
Steel struts seem to grow
Among hemlock
And wild watercress.
Old concrete
On its way to sand.
Leap frog! Across
New breeding pools
Eroded via deluge.
We pray for rain,
But not all at once.
Here she stands in her velvet black dress,
will that do for my husband’s funeral,
she thinks.
he loves that dress so much,
I wore it so often
people thought we couldnt afford another one
or that he was too tight to spend money on me.
But he loved that dress so much,
so much memories.
This where we stood for our wedding picture,
stiff, worried, and frightened,
My mum had given me a leaflet to read
and my married friends had explained
but i knew already but was good at pretenting.
This dress i will wear it one more time for him
or should i bury it with him.
so he can remember me at times
and the waltzes we dance me wearing that dress,
Will that do for my husband’s funeral,
he’d approve and then would want to be burried with it.