24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
they’re coming
she thinks
can’t be sure
so long since she’s seen light
weeks
time drips slowly down here
collecting
into lonesome puddles
she will not be saved
she thinks
the waiting will kill her first
she thinks
anticipation
the dread of uncertainty
she can’t stand it anymore
she says aloud
unlocking the inner door
she says it again
unbolting the outer door
she says it louder
opening the hatch
she screams
I can’t stand it anymore
as she is met with the smother of
darkness
In the mornin’ I get up to face the day,
I never miss the time to pray.
It gives me time to just be still,
And just to be in his will.
To hear his sweet voice in my ear,
to listen and do and be what I hear.
I know each day he’ll be the same,
He never forgets to call my name.
He loves me and he seeks me out,
He makes sure I know what my life is all about!
He beckoned Me,
In the end.
Time moved slowly
When his hand so tenderly
Took mine.
And the moment,
Was so tender,
I could not help but wonder
If this destruction,
This loss of being,
Were a dream.
But he beckoned
And I followed
And I would soon see
That –
Reality often
Fiction surpasses,
In the end.
ENDINGS
Always taking a swipe at me
Aiming for my complacency
For my compliance and my character
Sometimes those endings are minor, simple
A transition from one place to the next
A flow so simple, you barely feel the wave
Your feet gently tickled
As you a take your step.
Sometimes the earth is shattered
All you knew or thought you believed
Is dismantled
Destroyed
Obliterated
Naked and wounded
You are left with the aftermath
A puzzle
An accountability
An inevitably
Historically, hauntingly
Your ending transforms
Transmutes
A beginning
The pieces come together
The ruins are swept away
Your challenge apparent
To begin anew.
Your ending was just a beginning
Captured moment, capsules in time
Faded memories, that never run dry
The window of the soul, visual eyes
Ink in the wind imprinted in mind.
Gone with the wind promises turned to lies.
Words soaked in an elixir of bittersweet disguise.
Unrequited love and daunting desire.
Forever just a word and never been a prize.
Jaded and tattered for the meantime.
The end of the beginning but still thrive.
Letting go marred the spirit and maimed the soul.
The end is inevitable,
So do I.
I want to watch it
with you
The flames in the sky
the fiery sun –
exploding
or
The waves crashing
the liquid ice
overtaking
what’s left of their world
or
The earth shaking
cracked open
ready to swallow
their world
I want to watch it
with you
Their world ending.
Their world.
It was never ours
A Shrouded Path
In solitude, I roamed a shrouded path
as misty fog devoured every sound,
a victim of my fears and heaven’s wrath.
Deep in my heart dwelt pain, carefully bound,
which drove my feet further into the gray
as if enlightenment could there be found.
I neared a spectral tree and stopped to pray;
for answer there came naught but silent gloom.
In anger, I had cast my faith away.
To lose them both before new life could bloom
Did flood my soul with grief’s poisonous bath.
The silent fog had verified my doom.
Avoiding all the pain my heart now hath,
In solitude, I roamed a shrouded path.
The silence of the night introduces me to someone,
Someone who is very close to me, and yet I haven’t seen from years,
And lost it in my fast pacing life.
The pale bluish winter moon,
creates a blurred pic of an infant face
who was known but then was unknown.
The cold, slow and smooth breeze lifted me,
“though I was heavy” it carried me and showed me the moments of life I lost.
It showed me how I lost my Identity to someone very close,
making an identity in the world.
The silence of the night made me hear strange voices-
A cry of silent love, pain and emotions which were now seemed to lost somewhere
My mind reflected the image of person I lost,
And soon I realized that the image was slowly, slowly fading in,
and with it I slowly dozed off under the shimmering blue light of night sky,
covering myself with the blanket of peaceful breeze.
And then I met the person in my dream’s reality,
A beautiful girl, who name herself “myself” and then I promised myself to be “REAL ME”.
Muse #1: The Tiger
Frannie Z
Sometimes he brings ecstasy:
his fur ripples when we touch,
and his eyes on fire flash,
but do not menace.
Sometimes he pounces,
and I must dodge his claws
and run.
Sometimes his feet
surf high ground
as if it’s water,
hills barely touched
by his flight.
Yet I, privileged to watch,
feel as if I’m borne away
by speed and time
and he, the one who bolts,
seems motionless,
fenced off by the thick grass
of a savannah.
Heads cocked and raised,
we both sniff hot, dry air,
our eyes leaping, questing
burning.
Watching.
