24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
My dreams are like clouds written on a sky-blue whiteboard
My clouds are forever moving, changing as they stretch across the firmament
My dreams have accompanied me since childhood, an escape from that reality
My reality of today no longer needs escaping, but I still have those dreams
My dreams are sails on my boat of life, seeing me safely from port to port
I’m Alive
It’s summer, and I know I’m alive.
I used to endure it, dreaming away the days, as summer has no filter,
its brazenness abashes more timid souls,
cowering from its bold and sweaty hand
away into air conditioned, cool, dim interiors.
My garden burgeons beyond my capacity to gather, but
it’s summer, and I know I’m alive.
Quart and pint glass jars filled with what I’ve processed
glimmer in jeweled rows on my kitchen shelves, despite exhaustion,
summer’s bounty and abundance to be decanted on a winter’s day.
I lay in the grass like I did as a child, transfusing sunlight
through skin into my core, just as then, because
it’s summer, and I know I’m alive.
My hairs stand at attention as ants march across me,
the grass stitching criss-cross patterns in my flesh.
Birds gather by twos, tens, twenties around feeders
I provide, a learned dependence that delights me.
Squirrels, rabbits, raccoons, and opossums find shelter here, and
it’s summer and I know I’m alive
in company with these many in my secret walled garden.
I lived for years avoiding summer’s brassy intrusion,
retreating from its sweat and buzz and bother.
Living away from home in Texas, I longed for cold, but I’ve aged,
I keenly feel my body slowing as time passes, but for now,
it’s summer, and I know I’m alive.
I am not dainty
I spend 5 minutes a month
Doing what I call my makeup
And my dresses don’t fit
So I mostly wear jeans and shit
I bite my nails to the nub
And I’m always burning my tongue
On words I’m told I shouldn’t say
A lady doesn’t speak that way
I’ve never been told I’m too feminine
More like vegetables floating in gelatin
I’m out of place in this generation
A near offensive combination
People don’t say that I’m elegant
Nor do they treat me as delicate
Though I really can’t blame them for skipping my station
Who wants to be guilty by association
I have bruises from hitting the coffee table
And you’d think I’d learn with it being so painful
But darling, quite frankly, to put it plainly
I’ve never been thought of as dainty
Not many would use the word “beautiful”
For the most part, it’s simply unsuitable
I’m not unattractive but, darling, the fact is
Letting my hair down is anticlimactic
I’ve got bags beneath my eyes
There are stretch marks on my thighs
And it’s true that I’ve got legs for days
In a lanky sort of way
I’ve never been told to try modeling
My smile is nothing near sparkling
And with my lack of poise and grace
I find I’m an acquired taste
Now, it may sound as if I hate me
But that is not the case
I just have a tendency
To lean into my strengths
And, trust me, I am truly great
At quite a number of different things
But if you asked the best, I’d say
Selling myself short is my forte
My friends all say that I’m a catch
Just yet to find the perfect match
They’re wrong, of course, although they’re kind
It’s not their fault their words are lies
I found my other half many years ago
I feel as if I’ve known them all my life
So save the date and count the days
The limo hearse is on the way
And be prepared to meet the apple of my eye
My other half, my soulmate:
This darkness that I feel inside
I’m still learning about the man I am.
I don’t love myself, but I wish I did.
Always tender to the wrong touch,
overcome by the nausea my white savior complex induces.
Opinionated to a fault–my own detriment,
my perfectionist best will never be good enough.
Poor with a capital ‘PO’
the world I can give revolves around homemade cards and love letters.
I can make a decision when there’s a gun pointed at my face,
but never about food.
Habitually bitching that life isn’t fair,
while I ache for the reassurance it can be.
Absent to my world– too early, too late,
but never just in time.
Perception burning sunlight through me,
but I can’t digest your thoughts.
Show me love and my fight or flight kicks in,
bear to witness the lack of acceptance I hold for myself.
When
I am pulled
to focus on
targets
others develop
I struggle to see
why
(Not exactly a) Text Prompt
Every year I include a song prompt. The idea is that you start the song and write a poem while listening to it, starting the song over as needed (or not). There have been protests in the past when I include one with lyrics, so this year I’ve included one with lyrics that you can listen to here and one without, which you can listen to here. No titles or artists given to increase the element of surprise.
Image Prompt
Hour 7
9/2/2023
“A Study Of Self…”
Academia has changed the meanings and syllable count for the forms of Senryu, Haiku, and Tanka. They are still elegant and meaningful …just not quite what would be expected by “purists” of old (nor the new ones).
Abuse touches…
leaving moments to echo
a life’s time.
Lighting candles
in memory of a girl
who laughed.
But not ever AT me…
Just life.
There ARE monsters.
Some even survive their touch,
most wish they hadn’t.
God took everyone
and everything,
except my feet.
And I’ve wandered this world –
one step at a time.
Guantanamo Bay, Cuba…
Doubly fenced and protected perimeter,
their guards, our guards:
I saw a circus…
but the artists died –
on the barbed wire
separating their prison
from our freedoms.
And on and on
it goes:
Life as we live it –
is seldom as we want it.
Chris
(C) Chris Twyford 9/2/2023
Twirling round and round, clouds overhead. Swinging higher and higher,flying. Arms out, head back, twirling round and round until the sandy yard comes up to meet me. I hold the laughing baby, dancing through the house twirling round and round.
One look
And my guard falls to hell
Every ounce of survival instinct falters
And my heart melts to mush
Memories flash in my minds eye
Scorching and heady
Arms and legs tangled in sweat
Cheats heaving
Lips smashing into each other
With fervor
One look
Sends me off my balance
Teetering over the edge
Desperate for that sweltering connection that we used to have
One look
And my heart is crushed
Into sharp and jagged pieces
For what was and what could never be again
One look
Is all it takes for me to question everything
Every fear
Every desire
Every expectation
Two ships passing in the night
With just
One look
Surrounded by sunflowers
Sitting on a swing
Toes dragging in the dirt
My mind wandering on her
–
I try to gather courage
Surrounded by sunflowers
Toes drawing hearts in the dirt
Wishing she was at my side
–
Toes retracing her name
Seeing her sitting on this swing
Surrounded by sunflowers
Just snuggling with me
–
Sun high in the sky
A shadow passes over me
“May I join you?” she asks
Surrounded by sunflowers