24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
For my parents.
Jeannie Workman McMaster: 1920-1994
William Robert McMaster: 1918-1995
Poem 24!!!
They died.
But I remained.
I walked the land they worked.
Remembering the lives we led:
All gone?
I found them in the soil, the sky:
Alive, each season’s turn.
I blossom now.
And grow.
(c) Anne McMaster 2015
Love is patient and kind,
Why is there violence?
Love does not envy and not boast,
Why is there greed?
Love is not proud and is not rude,
Why do we allow hostility?
Love is not self-seeking and is not easily angered,
Why do we allow aggression?
Love keeps no record of wrongs,
Why do we not forgive?
Love rejoices with the truth,
Why do we lie?
Love protects, perseveres, and hopes
Love to be loved!
(Biblical Allusion I Corinthians 13:4-5)
From Poems, Thoughts and More
HOUR TWENTY THREE
POEM #23
24 HOUR
POEM
MARATHON
OUR FLAG
Stars and stripes forever,
Our enemies never.
A background of blue,
Stars always in view.
May it fly high,
Touching the sky.
Sing loud and clear,
Give America cheer.
America strong and great,
Flying over every state.
If our flag got tore,
In battle or war.
It could forever be found,
Flying high not on the ground.
All enemies beware,
With pride we care.
Our flag flies high,
Touching the sky.
Written by Carl Mann
The kurlman
6-14-2015
You know it’s there
Look, search, find
Dig, dig deeper
Go within
Unearth the impossible
Go on, Dig Deep!
I took down the for rent sign
My scars are no longer for sale
I use them as a ladder for when I visit hell
@ angel rosen
Such a bad poem. I tried. So tired.
wedding party downstairs..
i dream of peaceful nights
in my hotel room
What do you say at the end of the day,
When the day’s work is done, but there’s no room for fun?
Birdsong is dying down, while the sun sets on this small town.
The day workers are heading home, telling their families of progress over the phone.
You walk in the door and loosen your tye, and for a moment you ask youself why.
But the excited chatter of your kids remind you, that they are the reason for all that you do.
Addicted to the 1st time
Mind has since been blown
Feening for a new high
Cause life feels too low
Stress over what is
Pain from the past
A temporary numbing
Won’t last but I need it fast
Madness has taken it’s course
Spiraling out of control
Used to be functional
Before reason and I divorced
Slumber is all too simple
Appearance on the decay
But this lil pick-me-up
Gives sanity a chance
Kiss me now
And kiss me quick
Before my father sees
I love you dearly
But he clearly
Disagrees
Speak your love
And speak it fast
Before your mother hears
I have guessed
I manifest
Her fears
Say ‘I do’
And say it soon
Before they find us missing
We’ll be maligned
If they should find
Us kissing
Telling me to write a poem to a
YouTube song is about as useful
as telling me to stop loving you.
First of all, the damn ad comes on,
distorting from the get-go whatever
the song might have been. And
then the damn drums, like the
little boy who is supposed to play
for Jesus, but loud drums make
the baby cry, so what will we do
for a savior after that?
And what will we do, you and I?
Who will save us from what’s ahead,
the stove left on, the Silver Alert,
which we joke about, like its Florida’s
folly, but we both know we will need it
someday, if you get lost and I can’t find you,
on the way to Fort DeSoto or Sanibel. Who
will save us from this damn repetitive tune,
over and over again? I hope I’ll forget it
completely, today, this morning, before
breakfast, and not have it stuck in my head,
like “Three Times A Lady,” or God forbid,
“Come, they told me, pa rump a pum pum.”