24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Eventually you find out that there is nothing here.
When you visit this boardwalk town
And get to where the sidewalk ends
it hits you
Once upon a time there were artists and creatives here
Once upon a time there were things to learn and sparkle in our steps
But we’re tired now
When The parade of clowns dies down
What’s left to pick of this carcass but a few scraps and some tumbleweeds
And it’s not even the wild west
The heart is the most important muscle in the body
Without its daily effort, life cannot exist
Its amazement and wonder cannot be spoken of enough
It pumps blood that travels the veins and arteries
Reaching the brain so we can think; reaching our toes so we can dance
When the heart is weak, every ounce of the body suffers
And eventually, if the heart becomes weak enough, life stops
The actions of one person’s heart can change entire families
Entire generations – co-workers, communities, and the world
Heart transplants reset one person’s time at the cost of another’s
But sometimes, families of transplant recipients have met and bonded for life
All body systems are important for life to exist
But, none so great than that of the heart
Your heart truly does beat for a purpose
To grant you the opportunity to live each day to the fullest
And fulfill the hopes and dreams you are destined to live
Planting seeds after soil is turned Producing beautiful flowers
Picked for many reasons
from the Earth
With the passing of a loved one. At a funeral
We beautify the presence of a loved one
With many colors so bright
Those beautiful flowers
Handpicked because of their plight
Then back to the Earth they go
as a casket goes down
But many loved ones keep one
to keep their memory sound
Placed on the Shelf
or in a little box
Sometimes encased in glass
the beauty remains
of their loved one.
The heart
beats
in the darkness
of the womb
as a secret
We are born
with the heart
protected by
the cage
formed of our ribs
Each moment
our heart beats
inconspicuously
gathering love and joy
tears and pain
The heart holds
the shrouded complexities
of our lifetime
enigmatic and hidden
even from ourselves
From the first beat
in the darkness of the womb
to the final beat
toward the light at the end
The heart is the essence of our mystery
Eve Remillard
8/13/2016
Write down the first line of your poem before reading the rest of this prompt.
.
.
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Write the rest of your poem, the poem can be about any subject that you like.
Then copy and paste the first line so that it is also the last line of your poem. You can change one word of this line, but only one word.
I have an extra pathway.
Seems like it should be a positive,
Having too much heart.
But I have competing electrical signals,
The beats try to outdo one another,
A drum solo with no end in sight.
I have to be careful not to get excited,
Or the fiber optics of my body will retaliate.
AMI
2,775,398,465
2,775,398,466
2,775,398,467
2,775,398,468
2,775,398,469
it was on the two billion
seventy hundred and seventy five million
three hundred and ninety eight thousand
four hundred and sixty ninth beat
that the final piece of fatty material
(possibly from yesterday’s cheeseburger & chips
or the pepperoni pizza from his
weekly wednesday poker night)
narrowed one of his coronary arteries
to the point when blood could no longer
adequately get through to his heart.
a small blood clot blocked the tiny passage
but a larger one quickly rear-ended it
till soon the pile up was a multiple vehicle
collision clogging up the highway for miles
blood stops getting through. his chest exploded
with pain. the muscle started dying.
almost straight away.
2,775,398,471
2,775,398,472
2,775,398,473
2,775,398,474
2,775,398,475
2,775,398,476
2,775,398,477
2,775,398,478
2,775,398,479
2,775,398,480
2,775,398,481
by the two billion
seventy hundred and seventy five million
three hundred and ninety eight thousand
four hundred and eighty second beat
he was almost dead
his final thought was:
fat should be a bigger word
than three letters
I come from people
who believed God speaks
in dreams and visions,
who went to a land
God showed them
and died there
or left . . . We left.
I left.
(And, yes, there is more
to that story.)
What do you do
When you leave your Promise Land?
Is God’s glory dispersed, like a lake turned to fog?
Can you taste it in your tea?
Feel it in the curve of cup against your thumb?
Might God call to you,
curiously,
through the sliding doors of the corner store–
your burning bush by the baskets?
Your burning bush in the sparrows bathing?
Your burning bush in your neighbor’s humor
or the freshly climbing sun?
The 11th hour… Seeking land… home no longer for rent.
Everyone wants a home, but I’m afraid to call anywhere home when Muhammad Ali says that the rent you pay on earth is the service to others.
I want to plant,
I want to farm, to grow a little fruit tree.
I want to paint the walls and dig in the dirt as far as the eye can see, but wait… who owns anything, not me?
Pearl S. Buck knew that “The Good Earth” was more than about a home to call one’s own. It was the land.
The Irish writer still echo’s in my mind from college… many a family struggle to own the land under their feet.
“A condo is fine, but what about the land?”
“No matter how plush, or technologically advanced, no matter how high it reaches in the sky, how can a penthouse match the profound feeling when you put your hands in the dirt of a home on the land that you own?”
Langston Hughes and Lorraine Hansberry knew and made us all think deeper when we read the book and saw the play, “A Raisin in the Sun”. ‘To own even the dirt under your finger nails’, a friend once shared, … ‘is worth something when you can call it your own.’ The value of owning a home is not something new.
Even Dido and The Cinematic Orchestra knew how hard it can be to build a home and no longer put your life for up for rent.
“Everyone deserves the chance to plant his roots in the ground. I hope I get this chance to plant a tree.”
With a single smile,
you have the ability to make my 11oz heart
lose control
blood pumping,
increased palpations,
eyes rolling back into my head
pulse rising
body temperature climaxing
to point where I forget how many beats per second my 11oz heart is going