24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
I care for nothing
except white rabbits
who nibble carrots,
jump rope with their friends
recite made up rhymes then
lay beneath a shady tree.
Watch the white rabbit
smile in that familiar
way that rabbits have
until one day they leap up and hop
away as they do when spring arrives.
He promised me
That there could not possibly be
Anyone or Anything
That could matter to him more than we.
A primal scream
a desperate need
raw urgency resounds.
The air so thick and heavy,
one can falter and drown.
Skin
craving cuddles,
heart
yearning for love,
bones,
desiring a pause.
To stop.
Round and round,
go up, go down.
Stretched too thin.
Too far.
Elastic bands
will eventually snap.
The Hooke’s law I learned
taught me so.
This is not
a “cliché misunderstanding”.
But
reality- a world I live in.
One you live in.
However,
Your voice is always heard.
Loud. Clear. Boisterous.
Mine will never be.
Even with a microphone
since,
no one stops
to listen.
This is not some
“cliché misunderstanding!”
Dive bomber in navy tuxedo, you are
the dapperest guy on a wire.
Scissor
the sky,
menace
the cat,
buzz
the corn,
and
sing, baby, sing
the longest twittered string of conversational inflections till you reach that final
trilllllllll-tweet!
He has a bulls-eye on his side.
A twirl design.
His previous owners called him Duke.
The Duke of Swirl.
He is sleeping for once.
Silent. It is welcome.
He likes to talk, to tell me about his day.
About how angry he is that I stayed away at work.
That his wet food is cold and his dry food is stale.
He likes to go out the front door and two minutes later come in the back.
And he wants out again a few minutes, just because.
He loves bringing presents,
Rats, dead and alive,
Small birds, an occasional large bug.
He is generous to a fault.
He has not quite figured out doors.
That he cannot stand in them,
half in and half out.
That the bathroom door opens
With just a push of the nose.
Or that doors are closed to keep him out.
He wants to be everywhere.
He tells us so.
Ceiling fans are a mystery.
He watches them and studies them.
His human Father is a mystery too.
He isn’t sure what to do when the large human picks him up
Talking kitty scat to him.
He sleeps with me. Nightly.
Snuggling close for warmth,
Even on hot nights.
He attacks my toes in the middle of the night.
I swear at him. He meows back.
He watches the microwave carefully as it hisses at him.
He follows me from one room to the next
He wants me to follow him outside,
for safety or company,
To share his adventure perhaps.
He comes home and jumps on the bed,
insisting for my full attention.
All of it. No playing on my phone
No putting things away.
It is his time, his special time with me.
His vocabulary is vast.
We struggle
I do not speak kitty well.
He is teaching me.
We teach each other.
I heard him say NO
More than once.
Duke is resting now
Before his next parade for food
I can write of him
I can love him
But i can never ignore him
He is the Duke of Swirl.
Sipping a Rasputin stout,
hoping for animal inspiration,
I watched the household pet,
a Japanese bobtail cat leap
from four-paw standing to
mid-air leap on a moth quest.
She stood tall on two paws
her ears spread wide apart
with aggravated intent.
She looked like a gazelle
and a giraffe, tall and swift;
then I remembered the zoo,
when I braved the school bus,
field trip mom amid 3rd graders.
An African gerenuk, goofball
of the Savannah, big eared,
whistle mouth, tongue clicker
that stood hind leg tall in the
branches seeking choice leaves.
While the cheetahs and lions
drew the crowds, the tree
dancer oddity, half breed
or so it seemed, of flight
and height, panic and poise
stole my attention, ever the
soft touch for the under dog.
And hard as I tried to bring
the children to her windowed
habitat, they didn’t understand.
“That’s weird,” my own daughter
declared, and I contented myself,
alone in my fascination for freaks,
to have learned about this wonder.
In another life you may have been the man I’ve always wanted.
In a time of shadowed trees and purple skies.
In a place before truth herself betrayed you
and doubt filled your every thought.
In a different world I could have been the queen
you wanted me to be.
Placed high upon a pedestal for all to see.
In a faded picture I gaze at your smile as my heart sinks
to ponder about just what might have been.
Majestic horses!
Him like black tourmaline, the blackness sparkling.
Her, the purest healing white.
They are the Unicorns.
The elongated, twisted horns upon their heads.
The truest, purest, Ace of Wands.
Magically charms all it touches.
Mysterious creatures, where are you now?
How do you manage to stay so hidden?
Cold, hard world from which you were driven.
We need your light and love.
Show yourselves to me, I plead.
Oh ancient, Unicorns.
©2016 Amanda Potter
Zeus
j.r.m© 2016
Embedded in your eyes,
collapsing galaxies
exploding stars
and the night sky
You fluff ball
even without sight
you seemingly
manage to penetrate
my soul,
crack open all
that has hardened
with time.
Melting me with your gaze.
Pray for your daughter
Living in sin
Pray for your sister
The heathen
Shame her
Make it harder
Goad her
Make it heavier
Brand her with your letter
It glows raw red
Load her with your judgement
It poisons like lead
All in vain
You will not change her
So pray for your daughter
Your sister
The sinner