24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
What to do!
Hurry!?
No, stay, rest awhile,
Keep enjoying company!
Places to go and people to see
But such lovely people next to me
In such a pushy society
We’re busy busy busy
All the time
Time
Time
Mad society or no
Life just doesn’t seem to have enough
Time
for all the lovely people and places it offers.
What are we to do?
It’s quiet here.
I can sleep on this
Bed of leaves
And sticks
And rat turds.
It’s not so bad.
At least I am alone.
Away from the trolls,
And pricks,
And serpents.
I prefer the company
Of spiders
Beneath this sidewalk shrub.
My year in books
is not yet full
or even close
to a completion
But I have had
a fair share
of different worlds
The moon shone bright
in Metro 2033
and creatures howled
above the ground
A lake of emotions
stirred in me
when reading Tūla
by an author I
have never known before
I didn’t panic
while hitchhiking
through the galaxy,
though that book did not
live up to all its glory
in my eyes
But my ultimate best
this year (so far)
has made me most sad
knowing the author of Nod
cannot write any more
while I am sure
he has talent to spare
“Where is your home? Where are you from?”
I can tell my current address, but is it home?
I can tell where I lived, names of numerous cities
With my father serving in the army
Our location changed every 6 months
We lived in thirty-eight cities in my nineteen years
The only common link was the army parade and practice
I also enrolled in the army and got selected
I was taught how to move stealthily, within a second
I was ingrained with love for my nation and sacrifice
The training did not include settling in and forming roots
It taught survival and the art to keep quiet, if captured
Today, I met a girl of my dreams and hoped for a future
Her eyes held a thousand questions, seeking security
She asked “Where is your home? Where are you from?”
The only answer that echoes in my mind and I hope it resonates
“My home is my country, every grain of soil holds my roots”
Note: I am taking the liberty to extend the topic of homelessness a bit further
Spare me the glory,
Because I am in a panic
Over the Moon following me
down the interstate,
Accelerating the Jeep I invested
In to travel the lake,
It’s calling my name,
Screaming for met rest my breastbone on bae.
I long to enjoy the canopy we built
Under the stars.
May we rest and embrace the solitude ahead.
I yearn for freedom
I am unchained yet bound to wisdom
let me be foolish and chat with the moon
and break out of my cocoon
let me be undesired
by those who conspired
they do not know the joys of my indiscreet freedom
it is my only Eden.
Snoring loud mouth of crumbly words,
In a strange and twisted grammar and jagged phrases.
With a slime letters weaved with saluva and drooling in a gelatinous stanza.
Poets tossed and turned a Haiku into Tanka and in deep slumbered,
Drowned in a free flowing sonata, in a crystal clear rivers of no rhythm of rhythms.
And woke up, on the wrong side of the bed and forgot the tetra syllabic murder she draft.
I’ve Been Downhearted, Babe
Blues moves my soul like no other sound,
a feeling so low, so soulfully crooned,
will lift me back up into the profound.
The laced canopy in the light of the moon
of soaring sycamore trees stitched the night
sky into mystery, and for a moment I found
peace until I gazed back down, fright
piercing my breastbone, watching the crowd,
and saw the back of my lover verge
into the swaying and moaning of Bluesfest 1989,
his lean, spare body skirting the lake’s edge,
morning glory vines crushed underfoot, as he guided
another girl by the hand to our jeep
and down into the blues I leaped.
Tracy Plath
Red moon rose o’er the breastbone of Fire Lake
took stock of the scene without panic
the Jeep–curious–shone underwater
she turned white
and lifted free of the treetops
ready
to spare none her light
Sitting on rocks above the alpine lake
our spare dinner eaten under
a canopy of high sierra sky,
we waited for the full moon to rise.
We planned at the end of our 30 day trek
to climb the back end of
of Mt Whitney and arrive on top
just as the sun rises.
Miscalculations of food supplies
left us with hunger in spirit and mind
with all thoughts of glory abandoned.
Hail on top sent us back down to head home.
I turned twenty-one during the trip,
broke my glasses, lost weight, climbed Mt Sill and
had my first peak experience
which still gives pause me now.