24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
I asked my ten year old niece what I should write
my next poem about
she told me to look at the dragonfly
as it flirted by
she hopes that her best friend
Aubrey is in the same
fifth grade class as her
she asked me about motorcycle safety
making sure a dear friend wears a helmet
and a leather jacket
to break the fall
i hope fifth grade is kind to her
effortless
like a dragonfly’s Saturday
if she hits any speed bumps
I’ll be sure to be the leather
to break her fall.
Once upon a time and time again
I have revisited the scenes of past debacles
combing wreckage, searching for clues,
seeking reminders in cautionary tales
Once upon a time and time again
I tell myself I will not repeat errors of then
and normally stay true to those desires
until, looking back, I see inklings to before
Once upon a time and time again
I have resolved to improve this, not do that
develop better habits, attitudes, self
truncated moments; indifference, in conclusion…
Once upon a time and time again is
once upon a time and time and not this again
not now, not today, not on my watch
once upon a time used to start fairy tales
– Mark L. Lucker
© 2017
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd
You were remembered today, my friend.
If every day by others, only because
they relied on you
or saw you more often.
I was guilty of
not remembering the day,
only knowing it’s coming up
too soon for others,
but I feel I can remember
other things
besides that last walk
from the city market.
I wish you were still here
I wish I had asked how you were feeling
I hope you met Baudelaire
If your landing
was of your design,
you did.
Heavy hearts flooded in memories of your life rewinds back to how things were when you were lively and happy, enjoying the things that you love. Now, confined by a white sheeted bed, hooked up on monitors struggling to breathe as pain shock waves inside your veins that make it hard for you to maintain or entertain energy to live yet, we wish that you still keep trying as we know inside you are dying as we are crying wishing we can save you.
Poem by: JGomez
Please find attached:
floorplan to approve
concrete courting as requested
shambolic awnings
floral shitters
and library bucket.
Hippocrates, walk this way
through slabs of sanatorium
for your wealth and nocturnal happiness
we graft for you
and your midwife shapes.
In a hidden valley
With tall, waving grass
There is a small house
Run down and abandoned
Time has not been kind
Windows have been broken
The door is nowhere to be seen
A few appliances, left behind
By those who once occupied
The wooden structure
Where did they go?
Why did they leave?
Were things just too hard
For them to stay?
Did something awful happen?
Were they driven away?
Maybe the house
Just wasn’t enough
In a little room
With high, dusty light fixtures
There is a small child
Ragged and abandoned
Life has not been kind
His spirit has been broken
His hope nowhere to be seen
No keepsakes left behind
By the ones who brought him
Into this harsh world
Where did they go?
Why did they leave?
Were things just too hard
For them to stay?
Did something awful happen?
Were they driven apart?
Maybe the child
Just wasn’t enough
His skiff is full of provisions –
Wine and cheese, sweet fruits,
An umbrella to shade lovers,
soft blankets for chilly nights,
an old mandolin.
There are mirages out here –
the call of sirens, chimeras of dry land,
adventures, bird song and ripe coconuts.
He saw the last lovers during the flood,
after all the promises had broken,
Pieces of a shipwreck,
swept away, reaching for each other
pulled apart.
The gondolier still sings to the stars
And to the old city
far below the mirror of the sea.
You have brain on your head
You have heart on your breast
You have hands to shake
You have feet for marching
You can turn yourself around and
Your brain will tell you
Your heart will feel
Your hands will lead to
Dr. Seuss Choices and he will show you how
You have brain on your head to use
You have heart in your breast to love
You have hands to shake hands for peace
You have feet for marching towards peace
You can turn yourself around in any direction you please
And everything else will follow through
To make the world a better place to live.
I was driving down the highway and prayed for souls of roadkill and search for beauty every day. The eternal question beseeched daily. Who gives a fuck. The fireflies of summer dance in memory of dusk diamonds dancing in the weeds. The apartment was once the home of a batterer.2 old ladies and a Negroe star who fell to Broadway lights and a Jamaican who skin popped my brother with heroin. Mr Hayes played with Satchimo and boy do I have the blues. Elijah Muhammad gave me a nickel to buy a bean pie. Ain’t life grande said the Jew store keeper who wanted in my panties at 12.
He read the quiet ether
lingering for impulse
entrancing moved the keys but
her ribs played his notes
her ribs played his notes
she invited knowing fingers
gathering a fist of music
palmed gently like a bird
clean wood shone
her ribs played his notes
whispering clanging
ringing filled the room
lifted from her cage
vibration came crashing
her ribs played his notes
her universe undone