24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
So, in brief, it was a post from a wrecked jetty near Deptford Creek where the cormorants dry out, a place where you and I could live and fish. But I lost it, the last post that had quotes from Brautigan and Trout Fishing in America, the book we carried around all day, and especially the bit when he writes ‘Fuck you,’ I said to the outhouse. All I want is a ride down the river.’
Old ugly mind, can get crinkles and wrinkles, with laughs of hidden smirks with those flopping teeth.Non-judging over crooked ways of mockery when such demons of evil slitter from skin deep.Hush, now… too many words can write your own tale of visions of betrayed and lies. Wait, it’s already time for a life check, ugly reflect ugly in the eye of the mirror. Loud mouths in negative space penetrate glam fake smiles only to not have anything.
Poem By:JGomez
We were secret agents
Napoleon Solo and James Bond
on bikes
cousin Bob and I hunkered down
the New York and Pittsburgh joint forces
we scribbled in notebooks
diagrams of ballpoint pens with retractable poison needles
cameras tied to helium balloons for surveillance
we roamed on foot the neighborhood
in Zelienople, Pennsylvania
late evening shadows
brimming with threat
cutting through yards
avoiding contact
when an assassin’s car
approached we’d dive
with abandon behind hedges
when lights came on in houses
we’d race away with renewed
urgency
do not be alarmed ma’am
protecting the free world
we hadn’t planned on
the cops
Because I woke up this morning about an hour and a half before my alarm was set, I am very sleepy (I have been drifting off here and there between poems), so this will be short.
This was my second time participating—and it was much easier this time. Last year, I hit kind of a wall with Hour Three, and struggled for the next three or four hours. This year, my latest post was at 45 minutes into the hour (vs. 58 last year), but that included about 15 minutes to get the right quote to use for the golden shovel poem.
What helped me this year:
Now that this half-marathon is done (though I may check out some of the later prompts for fun), it’s nap time!
(5 August 2017)
Dripping
Making more noise than allowed
Monsoon rains holding court
Adamant sparrows
Cawing wet
Screeching away the morn
Drowsing soils
Drenching souls
Washing nights to a dawn
Driving heat for day long ventures
Petrichor long dissolved
Dribbling down the rains
Raining drizzling drowning again
Wasting leaves to the ground
Puddling up cuddling through
Sunday morrows
Clearing blues
Stay in bed
Skipping walks
More life today
Better tomorrow
Dreaming still
Early dews
Taking easy
Show no news
Wafting smells
Earth bathed
Pearls on grass
Blooming glades
Croaking toads
Creeking woods
Gloomy roses
The petals lost
Move over summer
Rainy is here.
Church bells chime longest, resonating fullest at hour twelve,
reminding us to pause, gather, or simply look up.
Cinderella’s slippers remained enchanted come midnight,
allowing her escape from servitude and despair.
Childhood’s year before thirteen marks a bittersweet passage
from innocence to responsibility.
Stars guide our actions with zodiac signs ordered
for each year’s passing phases while
We embrace symbols of ourselves
in Asian astrology.
Such is the Cosmic Order of
1X12, 2X6, 3X4 with logical, progressive complexity.
Do we blindly judge and blame in a fearful Witching Hour
In our juries of twelve?
Universal patterns pale to the power within us.
My hands speak to the sky.
The sky sees my hands as swallows,
lifting me in forget-me-not
lightness.
I will press the birds of my hands
into holy Earth when she whispers
“Share your burdens.”
My throat will send my voice
to the Choir of Ancients, where we will sing,
big as Love.
Our Song — flower and falcon,
newt and fruit and sky and I,
are blessing all the world
right this very instant, and you,
just sitting there, you!
are a vital part of this
benediction.
J. Pratt-Walter, © 8/5/201
I am the sad woman walking towards you
Eyes on the ground, so you can’t see me
But you know
You know by my heavy steps
The extreme muscular labors that push me forward
Through the vacuum between us
That if I looked up
And looked directly at you
You could see the turmoil
Set in just under my eyelids
You know by the bags I carry
That pull me down
Packed with the contingencies for all possible disasters
To stave off the self-criticism to come
Too much, not enough, late, wrong
A rap sheet of epic failures
My spine bends in resignation to these faults
The bags would break my fall if I stumbled
It’s easier to carry the weight
But you also know
When we finally do pass each other
Our eyes making a simultaneous threat assessment
Giving each other the all clear
And you are talking to your friend on the phone
Or laughing with the group you are with
That I wish I were you
Living that life on a high shelf
I can’t reach
Because I’m too short, or because
It’s simply not meant for me.
Copper Dog
Tail full of love wiggles.
Nose cold and wet.
My life is complete, for I have this pet.
He never says no to me.
He’s always about.
Poor fool never even complains when I shout.
He’s loyal and caring.
He shows with his licks.
I love him so much he gets spa days, it’s sick.
This pup is my life now.
He has me all trained.
You’ll find me at dog parks, sun, windstorm or rain.
Don’t stop and wonder.
I’ve figured it out.
Dogs are the best friends, of that there’s no doubt.
– Mary-Jeanne Smith
‘I will try to explain to you
In one hundread words
no more, no less,
without dreaming of you
My nights are sleepless.’
said the pure little innocent princess.
‘With you in my dreams
I feel so alive
I don’t wanna wake up
when twillight arrive,
You are so different
From the other princes.’
said the pure little innocent princess.
‘Whatever I ask you
You do it relentless
You don’t even care
That I’m a total mess.
You love me the way I am,
And I love you back, I guess.’
said the pure little innocent princess.
‘I live in your dreams,
Don’t be so selfish
What you call love
I call just service.’
said the prince.
‘ Be a good boy, and mind your business!’
said the pure little innocent princess.