24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
“I am the soft star-shine at night” from the poem Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep by Mary Elizabeth Frye
Why oh why can’t I
Be who I truly am?
It’s a struggle for many, and the
Vulnerabilities so soft,
Are lost until you wish upon a star,
For help so you can shine,
But also stay soft and kind at
Those times where everything is dark as night.
To be in
a tornado really begs the question what
the hell is privilege?
A human thing maybe… No
the simple thing about living longer
and having people you love and having
comfort is you still have to
die.
#262 from Book Third of The Gay Science, Friedrich Neitzsche
Being all goody goody
Doesn’t take me any where
I have lost a person
Somewhere down the road
Who was all chirpy
And full of life
Putting their dreams
Before mine
Leaves me partially complete
My soul is parched for more
Gratification of desires maybe
Or narrating the untold stories
And feeling the rain
Till the last drop
I refuse to give up, though
I got to stay mindful.
The original inspiration is the line “One day the answer came before the question” in the poem Golden Anniversary by Wislawa Szymborska
We are all together yet we are the only one
The years are filled with days and yet this is our only day
We each can only wait so long before the
longing for life overwhelms our ability to answer
To answer the question that came
Came to us long before
Long before we were ready for the
end, for to each of us the end comes and we must answer the question.
No matter how far I go
No matter how much time has passsed
No matter the season
No matter the reason
When I walk into this place
It always smells exactly the same
And I’m taken back
As if in a time machine
To a time that, at least now, seemed easier
We were carving out our lives
We were screaming into the void
We were fighting against corporate greed and apathy and exhaustion
And this was our safe harbor
This was our shelter in the storm
Even now
It still feels that way to me
She sheds her tears and rises, wings fully developed-
stepping away from the shriveled, cracked, and dry cocoon
to the edge of the canyon rim, beneath which the river rages-
she leaps, and flies-
Her wings buckle in midair, her body bends over,
but something in her heart leaps-
her body lifts-
Grey clouds loom above through which the sun shines dimly,
releasing a silver mist that blends with the wind-
snowy white pigeons lift from the rocks- the wind
carries their wings in flight-
Light soaks the reddened canyon walls-
the breeze whirls from each pump of the wings-
crisp air- the angel’s plumage of white feathers-
The clouds parted the sky-
the tangled froth of the river vanished,
the canyon beneath descends away-
with each wingbeat the heart thrums-
Her hands stretch to catch the skies releasing water-
a rain arrives to signal the coming of Autumn
washing away the dust
from the birds’ shallow beaks-
Clouds envelop us-
the wind sings and whistles its music,
carrying with its breeze the leaves-
and as she flies, she lets go-
Been days since I started And
I still have Miles
To travel To
A place to Go
With only so much time Before
Wanting to give up I
Just want to go home and Sleep
(Line used is Robert Frost’s “And miles to go before I sleep”)
I remember when I first started reading your words.
In your sharing I found that, I
Too~ admire, and wish
That I
Could also, imitate “Words I Wish I Wrote”
“At the point where language falls away…” first line from “Spelling”, by Margaret Atwood.
Songs and poems and words we dream at
beneath the sleep of night, and the
beginning of another thought, a point
a dance, a light… where
every line becomes a language
to be seen… whereupon it falls
and drifts away.