O Music (Hour Ten)
Music,
Holy miracle of miracles,
How do you exist?
How does sound coalesce
And accrete
Into galaxies
Laden with meaning
And emotion
And all that makes our existence
Worth the effort
Of being alive?
Dreams
If dreams came true
And prayers were answered
And peace reigned in every home
If mama’s and dad’s
Could love their children
And never leave them alone
If there were no bullies
And kindness prevailed
And love could be found for free
And happiness conquered
In everyone’s lives
Imagine a world that would be
Thank You
Thank you sweet water for all of the magic you bring
Thank you sweet water for cooling my toes this hot day
the pools and the rain and the springs and the river to the ocean
and thank you for carrying me all of this way
for making me fluid and agile and quenching my thirst
I thank you and I thank you again sweet water.
I love you
Thank you
I love you
please forgive me
Prompt for Hour Eleven
Write a persona poem from the point of view of a person without a home. You can have a specific person in mind, or they can be entirely imagined. This person can be a homeless beggar, or someone who drifts from town to town, or someone who just can’t imagine settling in one place, so they don’t.
False reality
She woke from a great slumber,
In a parallel realm of space,
Only to find herself somewhere foreign,
That she didn’t know what to call.
In a dimensional place
That was in a strange state,
Where she was no one,
But sought after by all.
Her people had been shackled
And they walked with their heads down,
They were called a lesser race,
Although their Kings and Queens had crowns.
For as long as they remembered,
This is how it had been,
But she didn’t know this place,
And it felt like a sin,
Because as unhappy as they seemed,
They surrounded themselves with vanities.
They called themselves free,
But lived Godlessly.
Poem 10- Oat(is a great)meal
I tried really hard to write something for my mom, but cannot do anything justice in this time frame. So figured I would do something lighter! Saving the other poem for later.
You are a two minute gateway to an explosion of tastes
Caramelized with Iranian dates on a cold winter evening
Or served with kiwi and pineapple in a summer paradise
Classic with blueberry or strawberries and honey
Or plain and simple apple, cinnamon and dry fruits
Often sweet, but sometimes savory
Mushroom and cheddar, or onions and bell peppers anyone?
With a dash or oregano, parsley and salt?
At first glance, you may be plain and uninteresting
But once adorned
You are a bowl of absolute pleasure
Keeping my taste buds and waist bags in check
The god of my kitchen, my solace on rough college days
Hour 10
Reflection
I grew up in the South,
The smell of azaleas in spring
like cherry sno-cones permeating the air,
Riding my bike under the oak trees
during summer break.
These memories work like a drug on my mind,
taking me to a safe time and place.
But recently, I see my home,
refracted like light through a prism.
I am white.
My two best friends as a girl were black.
I went to Catholic school,
and I know the golden rule.
I’m not racist,
I thought.
I moved to California and felt like an ambassador,
shocking people with my liberalism.
All these years,
I thought it was enough;
I didn’t judge people based on their skin color.
My conscience was clear, colorless.
I would have continued this way.
That’s why I praise the black community,
For the strength to band together,
To open eyes.
When I see my own reflection in the mirror,
I’m not satisfied.
What can I do?
How do I start?
These are the questions that now come from my heart
So Many Days
Sometimes I wonder where I went wrong
So many days have gone and I’m still all alone.
Sometimes the hours past and I wonder how am I to get along.
So many days have gone and my heart doesn’t seem strong.
Sometimes I wonder where I went wrong
Does the verdict of my life determine this dreadful song?
So many days have gone and I’m still all alone.
He’s the Best
I needed someone to trust.
And he was there.
Whether I’m broken or bust,
He gently pets my hair
And though he might not always be right
He always does what he can
It’s always quite a sight.
I believe he’s the sweetest man,
That man I’m going to marry
I can’t wait until that date.
Our Perfect Princess
Anticipation on a bright crisp morning
The wonder and excitement of preparation
Champagne shopping with moms and bridesmaids
Choosing gowns for Meredith to try
Everyone unique and stylish
Lovely beading, elegant embroidery
Ruching, pick-ups, covered buttons and crystals
Color palettes of almond, cream, bright white or dusty pink
Fabrics of Tinker Belle toile, taffeta, natural silk, chiffon or satin
Train, bolero jacket, fingertip veil, sweetheart strapless
So many choices for a beautiful new daughter
Tears when the loveliest bride came before the mirrors
A perfect princess, graceful and true.
Joy in her heart for her wedding day.