24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
I was laying down to sleep
In the house you once called home
And I heard your voice
Asking me what I was doing there
I don’t know how to answer you
And the others would think me crazy if I said this
But…
Are you here?
Can you hear me?
If I reached out far enough
Could I reach you?
The devil himself is known for Stealth
An with this reputation before him
He travelled down to foil the Welsh
In the county of Ceridigion
Eager to strike a deal with anyone
He came across an old woman who dearly wished
To be able to cross the river with a bridge
Which in just moments the devil could build…
But though the woman was old
He bargained for a soul
Of the first living thing to make a crossing
Certain it would be the old woman herself
But wait – what was that she was tossing?
Was this in act of stealth
To throw over the bridge bits of bread
To be chased by her one true companion –
A loyal and lively little spaniel…
So this was the soul the devil had earned
Crossing the bridge he wished he had burned
And due to his embarrassment and shame
He vowed never to visit Ceridigion again –
To this day Devil’s Bridge stands…
Built by Satan’s own greedy hands
Are you there for me?
Will you always be there?
I listen to my music box
whispering your love for me.
Now you are gone and I am silent,
surrounded by our memories,
overwhelming, but dear memories.
But I still listen to my music box.
Maybe because it was your first present,
maybe because I am delicate like a child;
I listen to my music box
screaming that you completely forgot me.
I still recover after our break-up,
but I plucked up courage to delete you,
I broke your box and bought another.
And now I listen to my new music box!
I couldn’t help but feel the pull
The moon, the stars
You see
The universe was made for me
And in its arms
I was free
If you want to know truth
Watch scifi movies
All the things you never wanted to think of
All the possible ways this could go wrong
All the topics you never talk about at dinner parties
Are explored without judgement
Attempted without prejudice
And laws are broken without forethought
All to show you what happens
When people meddle
Poem 15
Soucouyant
A ball of fire flying through the night
Deep in the village
Causing quite a fright
They say it’s a woman
Perhaps the Devil’s wife
A witch perhaps
Something magical and powerful
All the way from Africa
Anyone waking up with marks
Black and blue it’s not a mysterious bruise
“She done suck yuh blood!”
All in an uproar
The villagers will catch her
Next night when she takes off her skin
If found by the mortar they’ll throw salt in
If not
they’ll protect their homes throwing a 100 pound bag of rice around and she won’t be able to enter till she counts every last grain
And if she’s still out when the sun appears
She’ll be destroyed by its angelic rays
I find comfort in rain,
especially rain that comes
with the loud gongs
of lightening and applause
that disguises the sinister
ghosts who proclaim the
morning darkness is what
cures anxiety and grief.
I find comfort in the storm
that covers all the evil
and restores sunlight
since tomorrow is slow
to become unmasked.
Omega Institute, 1987
So many souls in transition
Ram Dass tried to keep us grounded
by leading guided meditations each evening
reminding us that we were there to be of
service to others, sore and needing.
Some were living in tents, others had dorm
rooms, all had troubling events we were
trying to leave behind. One woman in
particular, muttering to herself all the time,
when we were doing self-introductions, said
“I’m Janet from another planet,” and we all
knew it was true. We were there, too, whatever
spaceship she was on, we had come along
for the ride, just for the summer. Like Ram
Dass said, we were all just walking each other home.
at the circus
there she is, flying with the greatest of ease,
for all to see,
on the flying trapeze.
the monkeys dance for the lion tamers’ cracking whips
to keep the crowd awake.
elephants trumpet,
standing on tip-toes,
so unsteady as to shake the whole tent to the ground.
peanuts,
popcorn,
and candy floss
fill our mouths with happiness
like magic.
at the circus,
we found those bright places in our lives
where all that is golden was ours.
R. L. Elke
© Aug 5/17 prompt 18