24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
lots of love everywhere
some love there
a few pieces over here
but everywhere there is love
hiding in the tall grass and under rocks
flowing through the rivers and streams
surrounding us in trees and hills
God has graciously capped off the earth
with wondrous clouds overhead
reminding us that we are loved
I said no and
The sky did not fall.
I said no and
The police did not call.
I said no and
The world did not end.
I said no —
I might say it again.
So precious that moment
When I learned to see!
The magic world of my mind
As I ventured forth.
In short pants
I went to play in our back yard.
Who knew the wonders it held
For a child like me.
There I found imaginary playmates.
We ventured forth to discover
Something magical
At every turn of our heads.
Each flower, every weed
or blade of grass
Held some new mystery
Revealed some new song
Oh what joy
When I discovered tiny creatures
Who dwelt within the borders of this
Undiscovered land.
Bugs and worms going
About their business
Seeking food and shelter.
Eat, hide or be eaten.
Each day, rain or shine,
I marveled at who and what
Came forth, depending
On the weather.
In the wet, I first
Heard the voices of the rain frogs.
Little green fellows with sticky feet,
Singing their songs of joy.
And once the rain had stopped
The birds came to sing and hunt,
For the wiggly, tasty things – dinner.
Season after season, I ventured
Into this land of discovery,
Until one season
I had no interest in being a child.
During years past, one by one
All my mysteries were revealed
And new mysteries came
To replace those in my back yard.
Now I seek answers to these new things,
Chasing loud cars
pretty girls.
But ever so often
I pause at my back door
To look and smile
Remembering my land of discovery
Let’s say her name is Amelia & she drags
her children behind her in a sac, but let’s
also say that this is an act of maternal mercy
& when they are ready for the world,
Amelia will christen them: Jorge. Kim.
Nefertiti. Hans. Abram. Jacques. Rita.
Lars. & so on. As they stagger up her limbs
& nestle into the safety of her back, she is
right to be smug—her progeny will not allow
themselves to commit matriphagy. Let’s say
they link their small arms together,
that their mother is such a good mother
because she brings them to a stream, teaches
them to drink. Let’s say again: Amelia
was made for this mothering & her offspring
will spell her name out in pebbles they collect
in their burrows, appearing in the moonlight
to sing her praises & let’s say how satisfying
it would be to come into the world like this.
Crawl
with legs so small
like pins and needles
pricking, sticking
quickly flicking up my spine
skitter, scuttle
scattering sensation
over skin
erupting into pimples as you pass
tracing fast
you scrape, you skip
you scroll from side to side
you creep, you slip
slow and sneaky
streaking
as you pick your pinprick patterns
on my hide
(Kinda sorta in response to the spider prompt. Blatantly ignoring the no rhyming instruction ((insofar as internal rhyming goes)) and using spidery imagery while not exactly being about a spider per se.)
What’s left when a kiss is o’er and through,
When limbs once-woven are unfurled?
I can still see the kinks left from me-and-you,
Can still feel the gravity of our world –
And yet, you dare take a simple love,
Compare it to an ill-fated time,
Withdraw from this curious treasure-trove,
Would treat you-and-me like a mere past-time?
Words fail.
Emotions fail.
Love fails.
Time fails.
There is the World,
And then, there is the world:
Control versus freedom
Love… and some unreasoned rhyme.
The sense that makes sense does not make sense to you,
Though I follow your rationale, the logic’s askew —
And I’ll suffer while you do what you do,
And I’ll love even while your love you will eschew,
And I’ll love, remain in love when you bid ‘adieu’…
And I’ll help you to find yourself a wife, anew….
While I hold the days close
When you held me so close
When words won
And hearts won
And love won
And time won
And I won time with one
Whom I always loved.
We go to see the lavender.
We wade through the tickle of summer grass and pillowy fern,
As the river burbles beside us.
You raise your face to the sky and the breeze ruffles your hair,
The sunlight dancing in your eyes.
We hop the old, broken fence bordering the field,
And we laugh as the mud-stiffened cuff of my jeans catches a post.
We walk, we wade through the magnificent purple sea;
We flare our nostrils to savour its perfume.
It stretches, vast and surreal,
Ending only at the forest ridge, grey in the distance,
And there is bliss in the laugh you release to the wind as you tell me
You’ll never forget this.
I think I’ll just stand here and watch this spider.
It’s big and black and I hope not deadly to humans.
One leg moves, then another, then several, together.
At a snail’s pace it moves closer to the fly that thinks it’s having a safe rest.
The cobweb is glistening in the sunlight, a shimmering drape hanging above the barn door.
Nowhere else to be, I keep watching from the fold-out chair that my dad gave me.
Hours later she’s there next to the fly.
She grabs the fly.
I’ve named her Charlotte. The spider, not the fly.
The fly doesn’t get a name since it’s just about to die anyway.
I’m standing up now, a front row seat to the feeding.
Charlotte eats his face, slowly, with purpose.
The body is still, no struggle.
The wings are still visible,
And if it still had its head it could fly away,
To continue its buzzing and abused existence.
But instead it’s wrapped up in thin, sparkling fibers,
Quite a pretty death.
I wouldn’t mind taking a life like that-
Peacefully, slowly.
It feels so right watching her delicately destroy the fly.
There is a sense of order.
I suppose I can relate to Charlotte.
We do share the same name.
The inspiring line:
“I am a man: little do I last
and the night is enormous.”
-Brotherhood, Octavio Paz
Of all the things you left at my home, I
find the ring to be the most obnoxious, I am
not a
vindictive man,
nor am I driven to insanity for a little
justification. You did what you had to do.
As did I,
but now, as at last
the finality is drawn on a paper and
signed gleefully by the
feasting hunters of the night,
the ring sleeps and just is,
its silence is enormous.