24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Time is important,
I’ve heard people say.
Time is illusive.
Time can get away
If you’re not paying attention
you won’t know where it went.
It just ceases to be.
We all have the same 24 hours
that makes up one day.
We all have 60 minutes
and 60 seconds thrown into the till.
Your day is not shorter or longer than mine
that fact is absolutely guaranteed.
What you choose to do with your time
can never be reclaimed.
Autumn steals the show
with trees that are in the know
The paths we walk
kicking leaves as we talk
Refreshing breezes blow our minds
and sports of many kinds
We begin to speak of yuletide
God forbid a silly ride
So early in its commercial glare
we forget a horizonic stare
Thanksgiving, a family time to adore
forgetting what to be thankful for
And, it’s pumpkin everything
from savoury pie to beers spicy zing
and those firepit gatherings
with our oer festive blathering
Yes, the fall is grand
though yet, nothing planned…
A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words
Faded photographs of album covers flit across the television screen
As songs from my past are harmonized by those I once crooned along with.
There’s The Hollies, singing about my brother not being heavy
And I’m there, remembering Billy.
Moments ago it was The Marmalade, singing “Reflections of My Mind”
As I recalled how I used to think the chorus said “Take me back to my Momma.”
Remember Elton John’s one about diamonds?
Yeah, I thought he sang “Put me in the sky with God” as I’d twirl ’round and around in the yard.
America sang about needing someone like the flowers needed the rain
And I remembered one night playing Solitaire and murmuring “I need you” to my unrequited love.
When a few moments ago Elvis sang about his suspicious mind,
I remembered a deejay once saying how he loved that song because it allowed him to take an extra long bathroom break when another chorus faded in to rile up the lovers again.
Now Neil Diamond is singing “Play Me.”
I took that one to heart–but got played instead.
Let’s move on.
Oh great: more Elvis, singing about that rain in Kentucky.
How I used to yearn for someone to seek me out like that.
Ahh, there’s Carole King with songs from her Tapestry album
For some reason that one makes me think about life as a kid in California.
Each time I hear “The Sounds of Silence” I remember the melancholy.
No matter what is going on, I must stop what I am doing and pay due homage to that classic.
The nearly maniacal laughter in The Guess Who’s song makes me question my own madness.
Are you laughing at me now?
Gordon, if you could read my mind, could you make sense of this?
That was another favorite that takes me back to my life as a young one without a clue.
And now we’re to Nilsson and his heartbreaking ditty about not being able to live if living is without you.
That one makes me think about you. You know who you are.
All of these songs played since the start of this poem. Ironic, since they probably started off as poetry themselves. Songs worth a thousand words but narrowed down to a few couplings.
A few lines that encompass my life–or at least a large part of it. Music: a word picture that we all hear in different ways, conflicting lights, and yet bringing us all together and making us see.
Naked, I bathe in the glow
of still, solemn rays
that, like me, have
boldly chosen to rise again
I am golden in the early
hours, the wispy bits
of daylight before dreams
disrupt in the fullness of day
This moment is my own,
stolen from the Gods
It is an elusive peace of which
I’ve long since earned my keep
Running, running
Running from responses
Running from opinions
Running in space
Finding quiet
Doesn’t stop the ringing
The anticipation of noise
The heart beats faster
Knowing someone is near
Voicing concern
Speaking fear
Planting the seed
To destroy my peace
Warming your feet at a burning bush
Offering your small light
in service to its sacred light
Waiting to hear a divine voice
Speaking to you of destiny
Sending you to prophesy
Choosing you to lead
Consuming your own dreams
You miss the stars
Scattered like seeds through the night
Calling to you
in sacred songs
Calling you to
joyful exaltation and divine delight
You fail to heed the call
Shadows park and flee and Saturn yawns from a gargoyle \
somewhere \ there’s no water in the coffee maker and the water \
needs to be replaced in the cooler \ no one’s looking except for unmanned cameras \
Tell me you’re home and that you hear me \
Tell me you’re home/ even if you aren’t \
Tell me you’re home and you’re waiting up \
warm indention in TV-lit bed \
My face floats stories above dark streets \
and the phones are blinking in code no one has broken \
Tell me I’m wrong to look at pictures on other desks \
Tell me I’m wrong to make this call \
Tell me I’m wrong and let you go back to bed when you say you \
are tired \
The rest of the world has stopped crunching numbers \
I can see by the moon how many more hours \
I have alone.
Clouds up above move
perfectly in the right way
sun dips down below
Each part of nature
creates a beautiful scene –
fire in the sky
flowers of the sun
don’t know when i realise
the fields of flowers beating
down your eyes this time
of year are no longer here
that wild violent yellow
racing off towards forever
might now be nothing more
than edge of childhood memory
I could’ve been anyone
in any place, in any time, in any body
but I was born into this one
I was born as “this” and I’ve spent years
trying to make peace with that
I’ve had delicious highs and terrifying lows
I’ve lost people that I loved
and never stopped loving them
some are still walking around out there
some aren’t
I think this is the closest I’ve ever been
to being happy and enjoying that I’m alive
even if I’m still not sure
what I want out of life
or who I am trying to be
sometimes I want to be different
but I’m not sure what I’d change about myself (even if I could)
I have moments of thinking that I’d want
someone else’s face or life or body
but then I see that they carry their own damage
we’re all just… in it.
I wish I was close to my family but I don’t know
how to overlook our differences and connect in spite of them
maybe I’m stuck up, maybe I’m not the “sane” one
I think that I am intelligent and reasonable
of course, I may be delusional
there are days where I think I’m incredible
and beautiful and captivating
the way we think of old hollywood movie stars and celebrities
I know deep down that can’t be true
that there’s nothing special or perfect about me
just like there’s nothing special or perfect about anyone
that I’ve ever met and gotten to know
I made the choice to see them as special and perfect
because I loved them with their flaws
I don’t know if I can decide that for myself
if I’m allowed to make that choice, for me
maybe I am
maybe I’m allowed to be special
maybe I could be perfect
just existing as “this”
in this place, in this time, in this body