24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
I hope to do good in the world today
To be someone’s helping hand
Bring joy to the weary
And love to the lonely
May blessings flow like the sand
I hope to do good in the world today
To do what God wants me to do
Let peace reign today
As I find my way
I prays that it seeks you out too
Seven decades of life experience…
Who said I can’t tell my story?
Protect the innocent some say…
From my experience there are none who truly are…
Who said I can’t tell my story?
Bring them, bring them here.
From my experience there are none who truly are…
Brave enough to call me out face to face.
Bring them, bring them here.
Were they there when I could not breathe,
Brave enough to call him out to face
The judge, in whose hands I placed our fate?
Were they there when I could not breathe,
My heart pounding with every terrifying word?
They judge, but did not know my fate,
Or what it took to stay alive.
My heart pounding with every terrifying word,
Would risk my life to save my child.
Oh, do you know what it took to stay alive?
Grace, God’s grace, will protect the redeemed one day…
He says I can tell my story!
Lost in trance
Within your walls
Music to guide
Soul beacon call
You keep watch
In your silent way
Metronome pulse
Keeps time you sway
Today I felt
The burning need
To drink your eyes
Quaff with greed
Velvet whisper
Escapes your tongue
Piecing together
What had come undone
You paint feeling
Or with held breath
When what sends me spinning
Is found in your strength
Not overjoyed when
things comes
Nor grief sticken
when they go
free from these
emotions
there is peace.
How to tell of that Easter weekend on the Big Island?
on the newest of islands where lava swept into the sea
to see it at night
the most stable thing you can think of
stone
the most solid immovable permanent thing in liquid form moving past you coughing orange oceans of steam into the sea tide playing
washing
lapping
dousing
losing
no loss
gaining
no gain
all in movement in motion slow irrevocable how to explain
it changes you it shakes you to the core it shows you that no thing is permanent that all is in flux
it shows you what a raft it all is as this island and all others tear slowly away from the hot spot one inch a year
floating
that no physical thing in the universe is permanent in its present form that all is transmutable that yin and yang kaleidoscope each other all is fleeting
as it should be
just different from what we were taught
illusions fall away
just as they should
The Pantoum was hard you see,
Difficult for me to master.
And so I’ll pass the challenge this year,
And maybe for ever after!
Well-padded young woman
Sits alone in a famous fancy restaurant.
A meal before her,
She nibbles, chews, pauses,
Scribbles in a notebook,
Discreetly takes a picture of the meal with her phone.
Thin, well-dressed young woman
Accompanied by a helper in a casual diner.
Six entrees set before her.
She carefully cuts, tastes and arranges the food,
Stands up on the seat,
Clicking pictures from all angles with her Nikon.
Oblivious to their surroundings,
It’s all about the food.
The appearance of the food.
Their opinions of the food.
Helpful purveyors of information and self-marketers.
A culture of impressions and beliefs.
By Sue Storts
08/13/2016
Clandestine
He hid in the closet
While they threw the mother of his children from the fourth floor window
For his crimes
She had begged for his life once before, pleaded for the drug dealer who fathered her daughters
While they threw the mother of his children from the fourth floor window
He cowered in a haze of coke or heroin or weed
She had begged for his life once before, pleaded for the dealer of drugs who fathered her daughters
He cowered in a haze of coke or heroin or weed
He hid in the closet, silent
Her body, not made for flight, shattered on the pavement below,
because of his wrongdoing
For Willie’s crimes, For Willie’s crimes, For Willie’s crimes
(c) Davita Joie 2016
Shoulders slumping and fingers thumping,
The keyboard is worn down from the incessant tapping.
Tap, Tap Tap
One more poem done in time!
The keyboard is worn down from the incessant tapping.
The effort to stay awake and alert is growing.
I am slowing down but I cannot…one more poem done!
Breathe deeply, eyes forward and continue!
The effort to stay awake and alert is growing.
I can feel my fingers beginning to curl-not wanting to do more!
I shake my hands to stay awake and release any tension. Breathe deeply, eyes forward and continue!
This is going to be a long four hours!
I can feel my fingers beginning to curl from overuse.
The words are beginning to blur together.
I can feel my fingers continuing to curl-not wanting to do more!
Must keep going!
Ingrid Exner, 2016.
Flowers in the spirit house are borrowed,
the life that has been given us is lent;
we haven’t got a promise of tomorrow,
so gather blossoms ‘ere your time is spent.
The life that has been given us is lended,
like butterflies that live at once to die;
so gather blossoms ‘ere your time is ended,
their colors fall like rain across the sky.
Like butterflies that live for but a fortnight,
our spirits leave the earth uncommon fast;
their colors fall like rainbows shining so bright,
rejoice and gather flowers while they last.
Our spirits leave the earth returning homeward,
flowers in the spirit house are light;
rejoice and gather flowers leaning sunward–
we haven’t got a promise of tonight.