24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
It creeps up the brick
Ever reaching for the sky
Sprouting from
A mere crack in the concrete
It continues to grow
To cling to the red stones
Time passes and its leaves
Now cover the windows
No one has lived there in years
So it doesn’t really matter
It stretches its vines
Swallowing the building slowly
One day you will hardly recognize
The place it once was
From Another Earth
A handful of eternity thrown into the eyes
Sublimely closed for the journey
Back to earth one,
Fighting the sinusoidal waves
Of matters criss-crossing many earths.
Hour 19
I clipped my nails
outside on the patio
as was my practice
where flagstone would catch them
and dust to dust
would return to the earth
some of my molecules
preceding the larger wholeness of me
I brushed my jeans
checked my shoes
and saw them
moving
ants in a line
carrying my nail
precious gift from the sky god
tusk-like crescent to their tiny frames
ants lifting
succeeding
moving
coordinated
toward a crack in the flagstone
soon to descend into
Ant-land
my fingernail
cast away
to be revered
treasured raw material
to be made use of
for what I leave behind
to be made use of
is all that I can ask
The Trail
My steps echo off the trail
As I lose myself to birds chirping
My eyes follow the edge of the trail
As it moves into lush grass
Then tall trees standing firm
Even with the trails invasion of man-made
Nature is still standing tall
7:30 am.
Something must be wrong.
This is so out of character,
Against routine.
She enters the restaurant
And greets the hostess.
“Table for two,” she tells her
“My party should be here soon.”
“Oh,” the hostess remarks
“Do you mean that gentleman?”
She follows her gaze.
Sure enough, there he is.
“Thank you,” she says
And hurries over to the table.
He’s on time for once?
What in the world?
Something had to be wrong,
It was the only explanation
“Ah, you made it!” He stands.
Motioning for her to sit
“You say it as though I am late.”
He laughs.
“Considering I was here first
I would say that you are.”
She lets out a short breath
“On the contrary,” she says
“You are on time
Or else you were early.”
“But you said it yourself
I am always late.”
“Which is why I’m concerned.”
She stares at him.
“Would you like to order something?”
He asks as he waves to a waiter.
“You must try their waffles
They are next to godly.”
She is losing her patience.
“No, I do not want waffles.
I don’t want food, I don’t want a drink.
Stop beating around the bush.”
She folds her arms
Awaiting his explanation
“Hold the waffles,” he tells the waiter,
Then looks at her, all business.
“It is time for our regular meeting.
I presume you have something for me?
Or perhaps you have nothing at all.
That would be a refreshing change.”
“Our meetings are always at 10:00 sharp.
We meet at the same place every time.
I always wait for you
and when you show up you always get
that ridiculous coffee.
Now, what is going on?”
“I decided to change things up a bit.
Don’t you like it?”
“Change it up?
I am not convinced.”
“My dear, I am a god.
I can and will do as I please.”
They stare each other down.
He isn’t going to give in.
But she can see it in his eyes.
There is a reason for this change
“Fine,” she said, resigned.
He smiles and gives a nod
“Now, what do you have for me?”
She removes the files from her bag
The stack seems larger than last time
“Quite a ‘haul’ this time around.
I’m sure you will be pleased.”
He scowls.
“Is there a problem?” he asks
“Do you have something you would like to say?”
She considers the possibility
And thinks better of it
“Not at all.
Just making an observation.”
He puts his chin in his hands
Resting elbows on the table
“You don’t like me. You despise me.
In fact, I daresay you actually hate me.”
“Isn’t that what mortals do?” she retorts.
“We hate the gods and the feeling is mutual.”
“We do not hate mortals.
Not all of us at least.
And I am highly offended
You would so easily assume that.”
“I don’t care about offending you, sir.
And my assumption is based on fact.”
“Yes, because history always tells the truth.
Your history books say the gods are a myth
Yet somehow you have found yourself
Employed by one.”
“Not my best job choice, I will admit
But it does–somehow–pay the bills.”
He straightens.
“I am not the evil monster you make me out to be.”
Once again he leaves without explanation,
Ever a mystery to be solved.
Sometimes it really pisses her off.
But today, it’s different
She can’t help wondering
What has gotten into him lately?
What is this sudden escalation
Of caring and sentimentality?
She continues to sit alone,
Pondering it all.
Poem 20
Nature and Man
Skipping across smooth tiles
like an ordinary day outside
amongst the trees and blades of grass
This black bird didn’t care
about mall rules and people staring
at his brassiness and skill
thinking how the hell did he get in here?
Head in the air, intrigued, unfolding silky wings, swiftly swooping down on an abandoned box of fries
causing quite a stir this unlikely star
And instead of shouts and screams
cell phones flash
But the fuss means nothing
Survival is everything in this human jungle
I read this in a newspaper a little while ago, about an octopus that photographs visitors to her tank. I've not done a very good attempt at this poem though.
Rambo resides at Sea Life
eyeing up her subjects
to fit them in the frame.
Waterproof camera at the ready
eight legs feeling for the shutter
say cheese, or fish
Cephalopod
snapper
of the octopus kind.
Astrology is a science
also so interweaved
how the moon rotates or the earth
but if they just stop rotating all the same
will the planet effect be same
as the moon has on me now
making me so restless
and wary of my future
If the moon stops rotating
the sun would be open
to its menace
or the earth
unaware of the ebbs and tides
of the moon
eclipses would be a far off thing
let alone the moon
be as a stagnant object
in the sky
As I stand here for it to budge.
Copyright © Snigdha
A collection of plastic and string and wings;
part stick insect, part sailboat,
walking kinetic sculptures from the realm of fantasy
moving up and down the beaches unsupervised
and avoiding the water with no technology at all.
Just stored energy applied to actions, like rubberband propellers.
Purely mechanical parts, no self-replication.
They seem remarkably alive, they seem intelligent, and yet
Just plastic and string and wings to catch the wind.
A zoo of bizarre, multi-legged dreams made real.
Walking with weird gaits, these giant beach animals
seem to think, and move within nature as if they can see,
as if they can avoid dangers. They shock the unprepared.
Mythical creatures like some twisted nightmare,
startling the senses and baffling the mind.
Unnatural elements in otherwise ordinary nature,
yet completely at home. Dark imaginings
exploring the light of day.