24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
I’ve been fighting this feeling
This feeling I have for you
A feeling I love and hate at the same time
I’ve been fighting day in and day out
How could it be this feeling is of need
A need to have you
A need to love you
I feeling that I can’t fight anymore
One day you rule, fly high
The next day you fall, deep
When you’re high, enjoy the ride
When you fall, get up quick
Don’t wallow in the highs or the lows
Nothing lasts forever
It shouldn’t
When the end comes and it will
What counts is the ride
And how much you’re remembered when you’re gone
It’s not not fair, it just is
You know, life’s like that
The gong summons
at twilight
It pounds the heart
of village Masters
It is a call to the palace
The crown walks
It walks to spits from spirit
That,
Ears
Shall tingle to vigilance
The tiger roars in vain
The ant
Captures the earth
with fear
Children
Thirst insane.
As I push back the curtains,
the shrubbery below the frosty window,
in it’s evergreen style –
with it’s small prickly green foliage,
home to bagworms during summer,
nestling pockets of snow now,
in the glimmering cold sunshine
of a mid January day in central Indiana,
home,
a place in my memory so relevant,
that I can feel the wintery blast
take my breath when I walk outside
past the shrubs lining the sidewalk.
Michellia D. Wilson 8/13/16
If I were cement and shadows
I could not know enough
to be ready for such news —
the letter in her loopy script
her cheer and sweet affection
sliced through by death —
where-were-you-when, we ask,
the moment’s film a looping strip,
that heartbeat of grief’s lesson —
language immersion — without
banter or books — left to imagine,
to wonder at inarticulate despair —
antelope calf left to negotiate
with lions, memory flayed,
cicatrix of sorrow.
© j.i. kleinberg
tell me a story,
yours
I want to tell you mine
let’s start at the beginnings
that point where we are indistinguishable from each other
that point, one
where we begin to untangle
unravel
like a braid
someone’s laundry clothesline
someone’s fishing line
a long telephone wire stretching from the past
a vessel’s standard rigging
a kite string
a guitar string
the ribbon in her hair
a shoelace that no one has learned to tie yet
the thread in a quilt
the stitches in a soccer ball
a yo-yo, down and up again
down
and up again
tell me a story,
yours
I want to tell you mine
Wake up . . .
Reset iPhone alarm;
What’s ten more minutes?
Snuggle in . . .
Can’t sleep!
Of course…
What’s new?
Take another pill.
Middle-age . .
Reach for the pill box;
Safely by the bed.
Morning, noon, evening and bed;
One or two each time;
Seven days equals . . .
Seven pills a day.
Take another pill.
One for depleting Vitamin D . .
Aw, to be a menopausal woman!
Take another pill.
The one for the reflux, of course.
Was that with food or after?
Take another pill.
There is the blood pressure…
Must always be aware;
Do not miss a day . . .
You can stroke out . . .
or heart will attack.
Take another pill.
Anxiety in these changing times;
Take another pill . . .
To calm you . . .
To ease the panic,
lying inside your adrenals;
or is it serotonin?
No, wait . . .
that’s a different pill!
Take another pill.
Important pills . .
never miss . . .
or take more.
Now, what to do about the aches?
Take another pill!
Don’t you feel it within
That life is coming to its end
Increasing number of murders
And Natural cause deaths
Nature is at its wits-end
The wind doesn’t linger as it did before
It’s rushing because it knows the time is short
The waves move with fury, no need for a calm
The sounds of rushing mighty waters is the voice of the Lord
The sun beams are stronger; the heat index ablaze
The earth destroyed by fiery cascades
Liken to the volcanos erupting after long slumbers
Souls of those in delusion try to tug at heart reins
For the music, sex, fun, disease and pain of this temporary place
Was never designed to last always in this way
A righteous Judge is calling each one to the seat
At the end
Are you found innocent or guilty?
Good Morning Fellow Poets:
This is my second year, and this one I hope to complete the full marathon. Last year I did the half, and it was such a rewarding experience.
My name is Pamela Gerber and I blog at inthegazeoftheother.com as well as contribute to several online journals. To earn my keep, I teach college English at the local college and freelance. I’m also an aspiring poet.
I live with my two nearly full grown daughters, husband, parents and pets in Huntington Beach, California.
Good luck to everyone today!
Peace,
Pam
Short circuits running through my brain
Waves that crash and come back again
The clay of thought folding in on itself
A place of pain coming off the shelf
Defeat and horror
The taste of blood
Casualties of war
Your memories flood
The screams and tearing of inner walls
And whispers of loss desperately calls
I want to be free of the torment within
I open my eyes…my day begins