24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Peeped over the edge ants streamed along the streets like giant robots
Smoke covered the surface like a huge blanket
Dots festooned with light shined like shooting stars
Heads dashing in and out of the dots like monkeys
Neck craned;
I pulled back
Too close to the edge
Only see the end.
Here winds a cathedral into the earth
Here sings a voiceless choir,
Echoes indiscernible from the wind.
My words are weak against these limestone walls.
Here there once were gods; here they stand still.
A great black bull the scale of night
Unspeakable in its ageless strength
And mares the colour of blood and birth.
Here long ago the god of fire danced with that of time
And teachers spoke the never-ending tales,
Now we do not understand
And bird-headed heroes break ever on the clay.
Here hands touched their fingers to eternal stone
Smeared their prints into the breath
Of deer reaching their necks above a flood.
Not yet washed away by time, I look down at my hands.
And they look just the same.
Sunlight
beats at the window
A fan swirls hot air
Beads of sweat
gradually form on my skin
unwelcome humidity challenges
anything crispy
This season has lost its romance
Summer
needs to leave
Something going on in the desert.
The boy slipped out to get a better look.
A bush on fire. Oh, okay. That happened sometimes; an errant lightning strike, probably.
He settled a few feet away to keep an eye on it, then became distracted by the immense swath of stars above him.
So. Many. Stars.
So. Far. Away.
They almost looked like a cup of milk someone had spilled across the sky.
He wondered if there was a name for what he was looking at.
He plucked his iPad from his satchel and fired it up. TikTok needed a picture of this.
That done, he looked back at the bush, still burning. In fact, it wasn’t anymore burned than it had been when he first saw it. Well, that was weird. He began videoing that, too, and provided narration about how strange it was.
Faintly, he heard his mother’s voice calling him in for the night. But wait – that wasn’t his mom. This voice was coming from the bush that was on fire, and it was saying his name.
Again and again.
Holy crapola.
Mouth suddenly dry, he almost answered the bush when he heard his mother’s unmistakable shout:
“Moses! Are you out there with your iPad again! You know it’s supposed to be turned off by nine o’clock! You better get your scrawny butt back here right now!”
He knew that tone.
He left that bush talking to itself.
The stories they hear,
of people coming near.
Those mountains and seas,
where all find peace.
Dusk and dawns,
when a little baby yawn.
The rains and snow,
twilight may know,
how deep one loves,
like a pair of doves.
When sun shines so bright,
how moon smiles at night.
How two lovers greet,
while their souls meet.
The writer writes it all,
but something remains beneath,
only true love will see,
the way one heals.
Campfire Haiku
Wood smoke fills the air
hot face, cold back, boots melting
sizzle, crackle, pop
Warmth seeping into
bones chilled by desert
air under starlight
Silence here at first
full with life once you are still
vibrant if you look
(Prompt: Photo of a man holding a lantern, sitting next to a campfire under a night sky filled with stars Photo by Tianhao Wang)
Child of the sea,
Miracle beyond the rocks,
Stalagmite nightmares.
When
brick walls
attempt to speak
on topics on
non agreements
their foundations
will never
move
Hour 8: Crumpled Pages
The pages have been crumpled,
kicked, forgotten – maybe a few
have even been burned
alongside the blankets tha
tliving in a desert deems “unnecessary”.
We could spread
them out and create maps –
pick anywhere else in the world
and just go. Away with the ideas flowing
in time with the artistry
coursing through our veins.
This hour went by really quickly because I started it off with snack time and drawing some pastel ghosts. I also had wayyy too many ideas going into this hour so I was taking the time to take note of all of them before i lost any. Then my twitch chat blew up which I appreciate – I got two new bulk subscriptions too which was incredible and I was not expecting that! I am really loving the way my community is coming together. However a tiny piece of me is wishing they would have given their money to the charity instead of to me. But to each their own right? and cyn should be back soon and ro should be getting up soon and hello how are you?
Carrening up the 101
The misty drapes the redwoods
Blocking out the morning sun
We’re on the run
From society
It tried to contain us
We had to be us
In the end
It got us