Hour 23
I doubt I can get
to the end.
But then again…
24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Endurance and fortitude
Tested by the hour, on the hour.
Body aches. Bleared-eyed
Sleep deprived thoughts drop on infertile soil
Sounding judgemental , I am not.
Not my best work, but I did it.
Some of the poems are close to my worst work.
Gained more than I’ve lost. Learned some new, applying it where I could.
The end is in sight!
I loved you first.
From the very first,
your father and I watching
as I ripened and bloomed,
nine months of connection.
Every kick, every nudge
was noted with love,
and you came to us.
From the very first,
with every beginning,
I loved you when you were little,
and even as you grow,
just know this for a fact my love,
that I have loved you first.
Remember the compliments,
forget the insults.
Nobody’s a bigger critic than you.
Feed your confidence,
starve your doubt
the same way that champions do.
Doubt is a beast that dwells within,
a parasite that you must control.
The most important battle to win
is the inner clash with this asshole.
Listen closely to your friends,
ignore the trolls who give you grief.
You will beat doubt with confidence
you’ll kick his ass with self belief.
Do you believe in God?
If yes, have you seen God?
If no, then why do you believe that there is God?
Faith??
How deep or big is your faith?
You don’t know?
Then how would you believe that there is God by faith?
Love?
Have you seen love?
If no, then how would you believe that there is God by love?
You don’t know?
To tell you what, it the feeling that love conquers all
If you felt love to God
A Faith will stand
God is like your goal
You are trying to reach but when your faith collides
You won’t feel love but doubt
You have to be patient to feel, to love, to wait
So that your faith will be strong and firm
To reach the goal you dream
Whatever we had missed, we possessed,
together, the precious, the incommunicable past.
If you google this last line of Willa Cather’s
classic novel, you will find out that the book
it finishes – perfectly, flawlessly – is part of a
project called The Big Read. You will also find
the epigram for the book, from Virgil:
“The best days are the first to flee.”
So what if someone changed it to
“The best geese are the first to fly”?
It would still be a proper sentence,
but it wouldn’t say anything Cather
meant to say, not that she didn’t like geese.
Kind of like when NEA printed up thousands
of readers guides, just as they still have it on
their website, with “precious” changed
to “previous,” making Cather into mush.
Making The Big Read into a silly read, a
meaningless exercise in great literature,
asking what it’s worth if we muck it up
with auto-correct and don’t bother to
fix it? Pardon this rant, but it should be
on record, somewhere, that the last sentence
of My Antonia was beautiful, and perfect,
and not to be tampered with. Amen.
Pablo Neruda once said,
“Poetry doesn’t belong to those who write it,
But those who need it”
And I said,
My pencil
Lightly dances
With lovely twists
For an invisible audience
Except for me
(Cinquain Poem, 2013)
I see you coming ringing the bell that distinctive sound as u pull up
The kids in the neighborhood all run out screaming ice cream ice cream as my child says can I have one with eyes of a pup
We walk up and there are flavors of plenty the kids love the taste cotton candy
Me on the other hand, I will just have soft serve, I can’t spoil my dinner after all the hard work my girlfriend would be angry
For a few minutes you have brought joy to our day
The ice cream trucks gone let’s eat our our cones and then we can play
don’t know if this can last
if there is enough to spread across the pages
until a love story suddenly emerges
you have been quite masterful
the way you weave in and out of lives
like some magical houdini
and every woman seems to hang onto your every word
like you were e.f. hutton himself
but i scratch my head trying to see what they see
and while i must admit
you are quite charming
i see the fear in your eyes
and how the insecurity crops up in the tone of your voice
anytime the conversation shifts to real
and the part of me that enjoys a good challenge
always jumps to ignite
but the part of me that lives in reality
is very doubtful
that this fire will ever light.
Cui mens inest tenebris
Nusquam perdo
I am poison, I am pain
A self-created, explosive device
Hell bent and furious
With no regard for anything
Or anyone else
I am a monster
I am evil
A blood-thirsty animal
Hungry and deceptive
Without a conscience to detain me
I am torture, I am carnage
A serpent in the shadows
Loathesome and filthy
With malice in my blackened heart
I am unworthy, I am stained
An airborne plague on humanity
Wretched and venomous
With nothing left to lose
I am vengeance, I am fear
A frail shadow of a man
Weak and sinful
With no means of escape
I am incapable, I am hatred
A mere whisper of happier times
Overloaded and vulnerable
With emptiness at my core
I am defeat, I am regret
A shallow puddle on the ground
Selfish and bitter
With your blood on my hands
I am alone, I am broken
A failed attempt at something worthwhile
Ignorant and foolish
Without you by my side