24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Don’t Panic.
Stuck amongst the trees of steel and glass
whose canopy shields the moon and haze?
Don’t Panic. Don’t lose your sense of
Glory.
Drive straight out and away
(with some discernment and logic)
drive until the largest structure is a lake
Get out of your car.
Spare a moment.
Feel the gaze of the sun on your breastbone.
Exhale
Statue of Buddha
Frannie Z
In Thailand and Burma
and once, Afghanistan.
Here and now, on top
of an old CD shelf.
.
He raises generous arms,
greets this present world
and perhaps worlds beyond.
Next to the CD shelf
is a large bookcase.
From his pedestal
Buddha radiates the good cheer
that accrues from mild liquor,
fond reading
and the virtue
of not believing
in certainties.
Jeeps are good for traveling.
My daughter and I went to the lake. The moon shone across the lake. Shadows Of Life were in the water. The light of the Moon remind me the of the light of His presence.
Then suddenly shadows appeared behind us!
Panic set in!
As I looked up to the light of the moon it reminded me of His glory
I no longer feared
As the shadows came closer
Rangers came through those shadows
They were checking up on us to make sure we were okay.
I would lead you gently by the hand,
tip-toe through that mystical land;
walk through mist and dark intrigue,
another mile, a half a league;
til the journey’s end is done….
and we are never, ever again,
alone.
I believe in the sky
Kernels of karma
gathering inside
Clouded mists of rain
Ideas wander
From lightening to star
From moon to space
I believe in the sky
Twirling infinity
All becomes eternal
Unknowable
We are small incidents
Crossing a moment in time
Inconsequential
Yet limitless
The i becomes the I,I becomes the Eye
I believe in the sky
A banquet spread out in lavish settings, awaits
It is the wedding of a famous personality
With thousands of guests expected to attend
The traffic is diverted on roads leading to the venue
The police personnel guard to avoid trespassers
The guests flow in, one by one, till wee hours of dawn
The sparkle of lights enhance the decorations
The aroma of fresh food wafts in the air
Soft music keeps the dance floor alive
In an area, not far behind, darkness envelops
With not a street light is on for miles
Cries of helpless, hungry children echo
Torn clothes, domestic violence depicts penury
A banquet spread out in lavish settings, wasted
if this is what he truly wants, do we not love him enough to give… we both bare fruits and vegetables rich enough to nourish him… why can’t we see him? Why do we keep searching for each other knowing when your sheets are empty, he’s hiding in mine… why are we withholding him from sweet necter and water so clear that we leave him rested and send him on his way stress free… Do you really think you can’t share him with me, when you already do…
I crave delicate touches
Possibility,
pure innocence,
and untainted curiosity
Shinning in the eyes of a toddler.
Spreading joy
with reckless abandon.
Chubby folds,
powdered diaper bums
Frolic in the air
Babbling baby gibberish
I love delicate touches…
j.r.m© 2016
Ghazal: God Knows
Now where do I go from here? God knows!
God may not speak to me, but God knows.
A forest of poets has sprung up.
How do they grow and flourish? God knows.
How can I see what I write about
When I just lost an eye tooth? God knows.
Without sleep, without food or water,
Where do these poems come from? God knows.
Tiger has lost herself in poems.
Now where does she go from here? God knows!
©Ardelle Hollis Ray
Happy Birthday, Kanaki.
I’m two days late,
But
I will turn twenty-two
On August fifteenth
As you should have turned
On August eleventh
Sixty-three
I would like to think that you simply
Escaped
And found
A new life, a new family
A new journey
To celebrate sixty-three.
A big number —
It’s been many years
Since you disappeared in
Eighty-six;
then just thirty-three.
I did not expect you
To impact me as you did
Yet here I am –
Heart heavy as I think
About sixty-three.
I’m two days late, but
Happy Birthday, Kanaki.