24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Mother earth welcomes us,
in her lap, we all sat.
Listened her stories,
filled with joy and glories.
Now she cries,
as everyone lies,
we stopped our care,
not doing our share,
of protecting her soul,
which makes us whole.
Monsters’ Ball
Welcome to the Monsters’ ball
Here you can meet them all
Vampires, zombies and the Mummy
Frankenstein’s monster and even Sully!
But cautious you must remain
For here you might also see them
The most terrifying of all creatures
Yes, a Human! With all its features
Thrill seeking species, impossible to kill
They survive disasters solely on their will
Persistence and perseverance is their key
If you see them, maintain distance and let them be
Bones that will bend and mend all on their own
They can live anywhere and call it home.
Anything and everything humans will consume
Even the harmless looking ones.. Yes, best not assume.
Oh well, enough with all these tales of horror
Do not worry and just enjoy this myrrh
But really if you see a human, avoid any eye contact
They have always been the true monsters and that is a fact.
The weather is dark and dreary
The smell of dirt and leaves pungent
to my nose
It’s the perfect night
Hurrying down the deserted road
stretching out before me
dark and desolate
I have somewhere I need to be
SSHHH
what’s that?
I just heard a noise.
It sounded like a moan
maybe it was just a ghost
I hurry faster as I’m sure
I just felt the cold dead hand
of a lifeless skeleton.
Maybe I can put this off until
the daytime
No. It needs to happen tonight
HAS to happen tonight.
If there is any hope of a resolution
It must be tonight
WHOA!
What was that?!
Just a bat, Don’t worry-
It’s not going to eat you
Just continue on your way
I’ve tried to stop several times
But it’s like something hypnotic
is drawing me closer and closer
Taking me somewhere that
I don’t want to go
There’s the gate-
just like I was told-
Not very sturdy, and not protected by
well—
anything really.
As far as cemeteries go
this one is definitely a creepy one
but I have to be here-
i have to see
Make sure
There’s a reason why i’m here
Something’s not right-
this cemetery hasn’t been used
for years and yet-
There’s a freshly dug grave
There’s rustling in the trees
and I fear that there’s something
that’s coming for me. I try to run
but I am rooted to this spot
Welcome my dear-
I was wondering when you
would show up
You’ve kept me waiting
We’ve prepared this place for you
to rest- I think you’re going to like it
here.
After all—you’re not getting out of here
alive.
An idea switched to life.
Like a light-bulb,
receiving power.
An elk living in the bayou.
Using a carport for shelter.
Eating beets from the garden.
A jacket of fur,
the color of cinnamon.
A tremor from the cold hits.
Elbow deep in mud.
Bucket on its antler,
like hat on rack.
Weird the ideas
in my head.
Sweet notes of honeysuckle linger in the air
Mixing with the whisky on his breath
I bury my face in the crook of his neck
Melting into him like chocolate chips in cookie dough
He becomes my altar
Where I bend and pray
In worship
And thanksgiving
I offer him each of my worries
And revel in the strength behind his embrace
He is my love
And I am his
The pulse of his heart beating
Against mine
Thump
Thump thump
Thump
Calming the panic buzzing through me
I match the pace of his breath
In and out
One
Two
Three
He squeezes his arms around me
Keeping me grounded in his strong foundation
My love
And his
He wears vintage Ferrari fold-out sunglasses
to hide his up all night on coke eyes
and tells me that if I want to be successful
I gotta be like a shark
like a bull shark he says
undulating around like he is underwater
biting at unseen fish in the air
only cowards pull out of the market when it dips
like his wife when she filed for divorce
sure, there was a dip
a throwing things at her head dip
a not even hiding the affair dip
800,000 in the hole dip
but the market fluctuates
and it’s coming back
he’s gonna be on top again
the next woman, according to him
will be noticeably more attractive.
I think we start off unafraid in life and proceed to learn through pain
the deeper the wound
the stronger the lesson
the scent of autumn still reminds me of an allergy to cinnamon
that hasn’t caused a problem since I was a child
my night terrors and fidgeting, my tremors and restless limbs
the colder months stretching on with long nights that brim
with more to be scared of
I keep a pack of back up lightbulbs to ensure my nightlight never dies
unsure of what imagined threats are hiding in the dark
how am I supposed to trust myself or anyone else to protect me
I still wear my fathers jacket like a weighted blanket
or second skin
I feel mildly guilty killing spiders because you taught me that they weren’t inherently bad
not the way I always believed myself to be
a cratered scar caused by a nasty bite now lives on my right elbow
who knew that something so small
could carry such poison
Hour 9
9/2/2023
“Starlight…”
Twilight pauses my evening
as I await dreams and wishes
til the darkness inhabits the land.
Can you see the faire folk
…gather?
Pause, partner, and begin to swirl?
Can you hear and FEEL the breath of melody
arise as the air begins to shimmer and flow?
And the music – The MUSIC, meanders
and whispershouts so!
And the taste, The TASTE – of LIFE
as it flavors your lips,
’til your tears softly leak as you’re left behind.
And the danse – their DANSE, holds you so –
visions of when the world was aglow.
The times of dreams across all the lands
as the star’s light is held
within gracious hands…
as the pipes lightly sing of wonders to be
and the star’s light shimmers so wondrously.
Chris
(C) Chris Twyford 9/2/2023
I walk with you so slowly that my feet are dragging in the dust of the trail.
My eyes are gritty and can hardly see
but I kept trudging toward the free landaroooo.
Then a whispie little cloud began to speak to me and asked
“What are you doing now? Would you like to come with me?
I’ll show you where the dead live again
and let you see your wife in her fullness.
We are on our way now.
Hold on tight and don’t let go
because the mayor would like to control this
and i hope he never infiltrates.
They don’t make Easter any more
The way they did when I was four
My father wears a jacket and tie
My mother too and so do I
My auntie sings Blue Bayou
Under the carport with cousin Lou
At my elbow are the beets
Next to them are grandpa’s meats
The elk he shot right in the keister
Which elicits a tremor from my sister
My mother runs to get a bucket
In case my sister has to chuck it
I wonder why the lightbulb’s dim
And why the milk tastes like cinnamon
Whether Jesus had such an Easter
Including a nauseated sister
Whether elk are wild in Jerusalem
And if their milk tastes like cinnamon
Whether lightbulbs gave Joseph fits
Whether Mary sang Roy Orbison hits
Whether women wore clip on ties
And where they parked their cars at night
We bow our heads to save us sinners
Then tuck into our gamy dinner
Ahh, they don’t make Easters any more
Like when my sister heaved on the floor