24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
All our attempts at subterfuge had been in vain.
The governing bodies that be can
See right through the purpose of our ban.
We don’t care about safety at all,
But the dollar sign, black market’s call.
And now our despicable nature in sight plain.
*Eclipse by Stephenie Meyer
As the night comes and the world lays its head down to rest
The mind begins to run and question
What will the world be like tomorrow
Will we walk like the others
Or will we make an imprint on a world that is at a constant change
Should we give up that which makes our day go on
What kind of world will I leave when the night comes and the world rests
Was my change the day before enough to make things happen
Or should I continue to change that which surrounds me
Will it make a difference if I stand and watch
Can I become like the others and stand by
Simply waiting for that which was promised
On a day long ago when the world had just begun
And then again the night approaches and the light goes away
The world goes to sleep and the silence is all that exists
The stars far above lighting up the blackened sky
And we sleep resting and waiting for that next tomorrow
In hopes that we can change that which surrounds us
Let the world know that we are ready for the tomorrow
The years of waste, and tears of haste, I struggle on to keep the pace. Where are my friends? I thought they cared, to hear from one has been quite rare. Looking back at wasted years, they hurt so much I drown in tears. With crushed dreams here, and chances lost, mistakes I made at such a cost. Reduced to watch what people have, I cry and wish for what I had. Worse than I thought, perhaps it’s so, caught up in time that moved so slow. Crushed heart, alone in its drought, who understands how strong is my doubt? With pain of regret, of all the failed tests, I still must stay strong to face what comes next.
I wait for your text.
After hours we don’t do much.
I see you,
You see me,
We don’t talk openly,
Be honest…
I know that I don’t.
The soft moonlight hits us as we walk past the old tree stump.
The tree was cut down because it was causing a wreckage with its long heavy branches during stormy days.
The tree was too much of a burden…
I feel like I’m that tree.
I feel like if I speak to you I am that tree.
I feel like if I try to get to know you I am that tree.
I feel like if I ask you about your dreams I am that tree.
I feel like if I try to help you I am that tree.
I feel like my heavy branches keep pushing you away.
Just like the homes that were broken during the storm.
I’m a burden that should be cut down,
Rejected for asking you about your life.
I feel like you’re ashamed of yourself.
I feel like you need someone’s help.
I feel like you are a lost soul who just needs some guidance.
I feel like you are an amazing piece of work.
I feel like you are someone who deserves to live more than the aimed amount of years that you told me about.
I feel like…
I am fantasizing what we have,
Again.
I imagine that a lot of poets right now are ready to sleep. So that is the theme of the final prompt. Write a poem about sleep. What it is like to sleep, what it is like to dream, what you are dreaming about. But don’t fall asleep until you press Publish!
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Sleep, dead on arrival. Dreams,
missing in action. Growing out
of my pineal gland, my spirit
reaching up for a starlight ballet;
finding only the soft pillow kiss
of midnight moon clouds.
Dear Diary,
what do you sense?
What have you read?
Am I intense?
Here day to day
where things hardly change
Ready to write
And it’s all the same.
Dear Diary
my faithful good book,
where secrets are kept
and nobody looks.
When loneliness hits
I grab my good pen
to share all my thoughts;
my book you’re my friend.
Dear Diary
what can I say?
When life doesn’t change,
you never complain.
With you I can cry
for you’d never judge
And if I laugh
you won’t hold a grudge.
‘The worst enemy to creativity is self–doubt.’ – Sylvia Plath. I love this quote. Doubt is something almost all writers face. However it is rarely something we write about. Your prompt is to write about a poem about doubt. It could be self doubt, it could be doubt in terms of creative writing, or it could be about doubt in general.
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Riding up my fantasies, a pitch black
flame, twisting and scorching my hope.
I’m holding the lighter and the fuel
but for some reason I want to see it burn.
I want the dreams I longed for to go up
in smoke, and their ashes to form a nice
coffin for my wishes to rot in. Doubt can
sever mobility; make me a quadriplegic.
Write a non-traditional love poem. Both the words non-traditional and love are open to your interpretation.
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Losers falling headfirst into
a puddle of mucky love.
Lapping up the sweat from
each other’s brows, hairy messes
of armpit hair braided into one.
Thick thighs are walked by
chubby little fingers seeking the
geyser spout. Worms wriggle
under the soot in the bottom of
the cave, they reach their long
lips up out of the mud to reach
for another kiss. Lovers sip from
a molded chalice of memory.
Write a poem inspired by a writer that you admire. The poem should mention the name of the writer explicitly at least once. The writer’s influence should be seen in the content or the tone of the poem.
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Crazy Cloud;
Koan completer—
they think I’m mad too.
I’ll opt for
stars and streams,
waves and
grass—we’ll
find lovers
in her blessings.
Zen vagabond,
are you
down,
where demons stir,
searching for enlightenment?
Or are you up there
laughing in awe?
Did the winds blow you over
cold mountain?
I think I saw you in the
morning hour…
Crazy Cloud—
Denouncer of Ossified Masters,
will you join me
for Shikantaza?
Used to be comfortable in this world I lived in.
Used love being part of this wondrous world of life
Used to see my various neighbors swim past my home.
Used to love waking up in the morning
Used want to catch food
Used to look forward to the daily swim
It’s all gone now…
Coral that flourished a few seas away
Turned into a graveyard for calcium carbonate skeletons…
Clear blue ocean that I could see through for miles away without having to squint
Now is a murky green
Much thicker than before
There are these new dark brown or black spots that seem like fun
But they are there to kill each one of us off
My home is so gloomy,
I can’t even see my buddy the starfish who is stuck to the large, rough boulder a couple swims away.
Live food was all over this neighborhood,
Now there is this brightly colored plankton that I have to eat
It’s this new red, yellow, green…
Too many colors to remember…
It’s a little hard to swallow,
It’s a little hard to taste,
It’s a little hard to digest
But I suppose it’s not too much of a hassle.
I miss my old life
I want to rediscover the ocean.
I want to meet new neighbors,
I want to swim with sea turtles,
I want to watch the sea crabs,
I want to learn from the wise Octopus,
I want to recreate my home.
If only the humans knew that all the oceans are connected.
If only the humans knew this ocean needs a cleaning,
If only the humans knew this ocean provides more air than all the trees on their precious land,
If only the humans knew this ocean is more than a place to swim,
If only the humans knew this ocean is more than a place to dump,
If only the humans knew this ocean is the reason for their existence,
If only the humans knew…
Understand that this ocean is your home too.