24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Cannot begin a day without it
Offers me comfort and caffeine
Fills me with energy to get up and go
First cup must be down before speaking (or can be spoken to)
Every sip warms my soul and chases sleepiness away
Each morning is a cupful (or two) of delight
Some of my best daydreams come at night
In the stillness, coolness of the starry sky
I can see how the ancient Greeks made stories of constellations
Complete deities of the Milky Way
Explanations of the unknown under a moonless sky
Archetypes of the cosmos
Mirrored on a celestial screen
In response to
Max Richter’s – On The Nature of Daylight
Trudging home
mud caked boots
armor dented and bloodied
No longer the loud rebuffs
no longer boisterous guffaws
their song silenced by war
No honor this no glory found
only friends bodies
strewn across the ground
Warrior’s home
with comrades fallen
to wives, mothers and fathers
Hour 8 – Song and Image Prompt.
** Not using the title that’s given, but, same concept.
Music Choice: “Outnumbered, by Dermont Kennedy”
Holding lanterns for you,
pleading the stars to beckon you through,
Souls; transforming anew.
Cosmic bonds;
Vast,
Yet never spoken.
Each gleaming light,
a token –
Out of reach
Though promising
Motivational feats.
In the woods that is our hearts
There live the trees that whisper dark secrets,
The brambles and pumpkins that leer
And the paths shrouded in mist.
Priests and teachers try leading us away,
But crows and skeletons of our past
Dance and grin and hide in shadow and
Lead ghosts to torment us in our sleep.
Those not dragged to their lairs only visit,
The way the Church corrupted the Pagans,
Pretending, dressing, asking for treats,
As though the demons were their idea all along.
Acoustic guitar stings and taps
leading into louder dance
A light female voice, breathless,
the words indecipherable
though I listen closely
only half understanding
snatches of song.
‘doesn’t take a job in the night
return to me
all my friends are
half-gone birds, keeping time,
are words, are magnets’.
Who will sing for me?
What is my song?
Who will sing the sense of my life?
Do you see me in spirit?
I have loved and have been loved.
They await me.
Time only moves forward
transitions happening
from one breath to the next
I inhale
Deciding to move along
whom to leave in my wake
I can’t help the weight of you
I exhale
[Prompt Eight: response to Sylvan Esso, “Funeral Singers”]
I love this song! It brought tears to my eyes. I was struck by the line, “What will I do without the weight of you?” which I borrowed from in my poem.
Tiny Me tiny
tiny you
Tiny me was in your shoe.
Walking along the long road
what was that pain
but a pebble in my shoe.
The silhoutted strings play over my heart
casting a hopeful shadow
that better things are to come
a brighter horizon
Like a climactic scene of a film
it’s building to something
something purposeful
something worth holding on to
It could be a soft kiss
a warm hug
a gentle smile
sometimes that’s all it takes
to get through
As the cellos echo out
in my orchestra of life
I appreciate the little things
I appreciate you
It’s not validation I seek
it’s belonging
in your world
and in mine
in ours
I let the subtle notes sink in
lifting my body above the ground
I’m soaring so high
it’s beautiful.
A collection of bees
with apologies to Sylvan Esso
Bumblees flicker through the four o’clocks.
Almost as large as hummingbirds
their ungainly bodies hang from wings
furiously pumping.
Among the cosmos, honeybees drowse
their bodies dense with yellow pollen.
And in the umbels of fennel and dill
tiny native bees dart like the tongues
of snakes back and forth around
Summer. The September sun a gold coin
suspended in a peacock blue sky.
Above my head bees make gentle music
High soprano rumbling bass
the sweet honeyed music of summer.