24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
My daily bread
Is not for my head
It’s on my plate
To go ahead
To go running
In the jungle
To make
My daily bread
My daily fed
Is lying down
On my bed
Exhausted
Of working
So much
So much fed
My daily fed
My daily beck
Is full of preck
Can’t take enough
To go on top
Neglecting even
Its most basic
Esquecimento
My daily beck
My daily fleck
So deep in my eyes
Nobody can notice
How bright
It shines
I can see though
Through their own shies
My daily fleck
My silky creations
grace doorframes and corners
are seen between tree limbs
intricately woven designs
brilliantly created
for prey
When is a kiss not a kiss?
a slapping together of lips
an infestation of tongues
What is a kiss?
dance of the eyelashes
a covered smile
tips of hands meeting, a second
When does not a kiss become a kiss?
When does love not become love?
a gasp of a letter
the smell of a single yellow petal
a whistled ditty becoming a symphony of their voice.
09 2017 spider
Lo, a Spider
by Paul Robert Sanford
Is this a spider I see before me?
Tiny legs waving an inch from my face?
Where did you come from, friend,
and what is holding you up?
Are you the hard worker
who put those nets to catch bugs
on my bathroom windows?
Carcasses of our prey littering the sill?
How could anyone as tiny as you
conquer such grand beasts?
Thank you for all your hard work.
One of these days I will clear away your work
so you, or your big sisters, can start again,
but in the meantime it comforts me
to think those beasts are not at large
in the house.
I’m glad none of you are big enough to
catch any of the mice,
but small and hairless as you are
I’m comfortable with you.
You are welcome, little friend,
Now it is time to get out of my face.
Sweet Spring by e.e. cummings
“sweet spring is your time is my time for springtime is lovetime and viva sweet love”
my man tasted sweet
we once had a spring
i knew what love is
because of your
days and nights of time
he knew what love is
oh my!
is it time?
what for?
he left me in springtime
i know what real pain is
where once there was lovetime
and?
my sad heart cried viva!
we once were a pair so sweet
i miss my love
You belong outside
My multi and long-legged adversaries
Not in my house, not
As happened once, hovering quite delicately on the ceiling
Right above my bed
And waiting, I think deliberately
Until I had barely opened my eyes
To fall straight down on top of me
Or your friends, dangling seemingly without effort underneath a free standing tub
So that while I bathed I was never quite sure
If they would join me
I know you are (for the most part) harmless
I have been told of the good you do in the world
How you eat other insects
And keep the natural order of things chugging along
I can live with that
Just do it out of my sight.
I was having a wonderful night so far, hours into a sleep that might’ve actually been refreshing,
Until that is, I felt the tickling sensation traveling across the bare skin of my back, from the center of my spine up to my shoulder.
Drowsiness slowing my mind and body,
I brushed away my hair that curtained down behind me, thinking that would banish the sensation.
I settled my eyes shut again and laid my cheek against the pillow, thinking now I could go back to sleep.
After barely any respite, the feeling of tiny legs crawling along my arm shook me awake once more.
With blurred eyes, I opened them and watched as an eight-legged intruder scrambled down my arm.
In a flurry of disgust and fury, I sent it flying to my sheet with a blow, swept it into a glass and fled my room, refusing it its freedom.
Before it could escape on its own, it was floating in the toilet bowl.
The sound of the water draining into hidden pipes was the only time the twilight silence had been broken. I’d made not a peep.
I returned to my warm bed, the conquering hero.
Every few minutes I awoke to that phantom sensation, alert as I was to it.
Sleep evaded me that night, thanks to the eight-legged intruder.
9. A Noiseless, Impatient Spider
(apologies to Mr. Whitman)
some spiders fling their filaments
and do not catch the other wall
poor spider thinks maybe I didn’t need
to get to the other side
or (more often) thinks
maybe I’m just not good enough to get to the other
thinks the other didn’t want
me (some spiders are whiners)
thinks I cannot make
a bridge to fucking anything
not all spiders know
what Walt Whitman was talking about
and (face it) Walt wouldn’t know them, either
the sweet pleasure of reading a book
under the blankets
hiding it from the roving parental eye
open the covers
to the thrill of the chase
the light of the flashlight
of imagined worlds
for nocturnal eyes.
A mere bloody sacrifice
of sleep.
I’ve barely eaten all day
But it doesn’t matter
I’very been hungry for hours now
But it doesn’t matter
I’ve made multiple plans in my head on what to eat
But it doesn’t matter
My soul finally feels fed
I finally feel secure
I have been wrapped in the arms of the boys I knew then and the men they are now
I have been cradled and protected in their arms
I have been reminded that people smile when they see me
That they reach out their arms to me
I don’t get courtesy hugs
I am given full-body contact and held tight hugs
The ones that say, I’ve missed you
I still care about you
We will survive this together