24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Scars from 18 years ago
mark your shoes.
The lost yesterdays
sing tunes –
you’ve forgotten the words.
Dirt devils skip down
that sidewalk you once walked.
A penny looks up from the dirt —
1973.
I found you there lost in the tomorrows
you had not yet dreamed.
Looking at today through eyes
of youth
and age.
There is no respect for saviours anymore.
I was the one to push back the machines,
the one to bring freedom to man.
But alas! When you are portrayed
by Keanu Reeves of all people,
there can only be one outcome.
Ask Jonathan Harker.
Not to sound ungrateful,
but if only Wachowskis were willing to spend a bit more.
Just imagine, Will Smith as me, I as Will Smith.
Ah well, there is still kung-fu, I guess, and Trinity.
Oh, wait! There is not. We are all dead.
Lawyer
Soccer coach
Girl Scout leader
Umpire,
Art teacher
PTA auditor
Arts Advocate
Non-profit CEO
Board director
Referee
Volunteer
Room mom
Academic Senator
Secretary, committee
Adjunct
English professor
TA
Lecturer
Law school Dean
Partner
Owner
Time keeper
Team Rep
Manager
One step
Trip
Fall
Arrest
Jailed
Naked.
Daughter
Sister
Aunt
Mother
Wife
Child
Lover
Friend
yogini
Poet
Human.
16 2917 Snail and Slug
Snail and Slug
by Paul Robert Sanford
snail carries his house
slug slimes along without one
shocking! a naked snail!
So sweet. So sad.
Minor.
Major. But mostly minor.
I finally understand
why violinists make that face.
Because they create the songs.
that trees would sing.
Silence in between spaces
separate minds adrift
thieves hiding in forests
of endless night
the last flicker like fireflies
and tireless symphonies
staccato and certain of nothing
except for the next note
and the next
gunpowder sweet and
mail order religion
lost and found and lost again
sins passed from father to son
familiar as secondhand shoes
comfortable as dry socks
after a rainy day
an evening by the fire
still smoldering still the next day
we sleep past noon
the sun refuses to wait for us
Tough.
Strong.
Controlled.
Measured.
The singular event, situation, surprise that can eliminate the confidence of an individual of any status is loss. Even when anticipated, it is the cause of doubt.
Impacting those who are organized and exude perfection in the least flattering of ways.
It is the broken promise to ourselves that we are capable and able to handle life.
It’s the shared trait of all humanity to deal with loss poorly.
She sits at the table sipping her coffee,
Periodically checking the time.
Impatiently she taps her foot.
Her drink nearly finished now.
Just before the final sip he arrives,
Black suit and tie neatly pressed.
He spots her and waves.
She scowls.
“You look lovely as ever,” he says,
Pulling out a chair.
“Spare me your flattery,” she retorts.
“You’re late, as usual.”
The waitress walks over.
“What can I get you sir?”
“Coffee, no sugar or cream
Just a spoonful or two of cinnamon.”
She glances at him.
“Cinnamon?” she asks.
“Yes, a whole spoonful or two.”
She nods, then walks away.
“If it is usual for me to be late, my dear,
Why bother expecting anything more of me?”
“I honestly couldn’t say.
You are a god after all.”
He is clearly offended,
though he keeps it to himself.
He smiles pleasantly.
“So, what do you have for me?”
She reaches for her bag and
Pulls out several folders.
“These ones,” she begins
“Will be seeing you within the week.”
He takes the stack and begins flipping through.
“Within the week? You are awfully confident.”
“I’ve bee doing this long enough
to know when the end is near.”
A few folders in he pauses.
The file is of a young child.
She watches his face fall.
“You’re sure this time?”
She nods.
“Nothing more to be done.”
He closes the folder
And places it in his bag with the rest.
“Not going to look at them all?”
She eyes him suspiciously.
“Like you said,” he replies, standing,
“You’ve been doing this a long time.”
“Do I detect sentiment?
I thought you gods were ‘above’ us mortals.”
Time seemed to stop
As the god turned to face her.
“My dear,” he remarked,
His voice full of something dark.
“When you’ve been doing this as long as I have
sentiment is an unfortunate result.”
The waitress returns.
“Your coffee sir,” she says
“Thank you,” he replies smiling
Then proceeds to empty the cup
“Until next time.”
He says to his companion.
He tosses the empty cup
And leaves without another word.
She sits alone for a moment,
Finishes her last sip of coffee,
Leaves a tip for the waitress,
Then carries on with her day.
lost and found
I know it’s here somewhere –
my self-respect.
I left it here,
in between the six pack,
the extra large box of condoms,
and the carton of jamochaalmondfudge ice cream.
So, if you happen upon it,
toss it my way,
would ‘ya?
Thanks.
R. L. Elke
© Aug 5/17 prompt 17