Hour 19: Fight
The gun is loaded
The muzzle is raised
I have no recourse
I must make the grab
Ohio River
What a lovely day you make,
when I hear and behold,
the sound of the Ohio river, soft cascading water,serenading my day.
was it a lullaby, a stress free life to go by,
so be it,when can I get hold,
the sound of the Ohio river, hunting my mind.
Poem 18
My hands have…
been the first to hold a newborn baby,
prepared a meal,
changed diapers,
taught young hands how to write,
put a puzzle together,
crocheted a blanket,
written countless words,
cradled a sick child,
planted flowers,
shaved my father’s whiskery face,
been the last to hold my sister,
folded in prayer,
caressed a loved one’s hand,
held the hands of a loved one making the final journey,
reached for the hands of my young children.
My hands are strong…
they are connected directly to my heart.
Eve Remillard
6/14/2015
Time
Skin made of paper
Bones made of wire
Ink replaceblood
Eyes burning fire
Time has mormeaning
Than any place on earth
Goodbyes stealthe should’ve s
Wasted on lies merth
Goodbye to your shadow
I now clip your wings
You never were an angel
And you never shall be king
Your name remains unspoken
You don’t know what to choose
But soon you will become
The one you wish to loose
Until God should design
Man of a new meatal
Return you to the ground
For time and let it settle
For now enjoy the silence
Perched up on youmantle
Surround yourself with things
Go build your dream toy castle
But as time slips by
The only face you’ll have
Is lonely reflectiom
And what you could have had
Ghosts will call your name
Echo in yoursoul
The empty hall of veins
That quiet evermorel
Wooden Hearts
Wooden Hearts
Virginia Carraway Stark
Bonsai trees
Float in a purple sky
As the hoot of an owl
Echoes through the forest
Where restless spirits roam
And trees uproot themselves
To follow their wooden hearts
And the loves that call
To them on owls wings
Gone from their arms
But lingering in the bonsai branches
This is the dream time they have fallen into
But it’s not as scary as the last one
Prompt for Hour Nineteen
Grab a random book from your shelf. It can be a book of any genre. Use either the first sentence from the first chapter or the last sentence from the last chapter as the opening line of the poem. Make sure to note the name of the book and the author in a footnote to the poem.
Magic
Your magic is filling my soul.
With love.
You are going so deep.
With your love.
Make my soul on fire.
As we grow
Call it in, I’m fallen!
Weave your new needle in,
To join the fragments torn apart,
To chase the rush waiting.
Call it in, I’m older!
The world grows old with me,
The paper-bark you strips away,
Still clinging desperately.
hour 15 poem
a few petals
left on the carpet
two cats
chasing each other
on the Wall sticker
(Hour 18) 3.30-4.30pm — #11 “Legs Eleven”
This was a poem which presented many choices. Yet, surprising myself, I went a different way than I thought. (One of those out of nowhere experiences.)
#11
Legs’s Eleven.
for the first time in a decade
i am remembering Harry Mulroney
nicknamed Legs because his were short
a fresh faced boy as he remains to me
though when i knew him, of course
i was about that young too
played cricket in the same team
as head-in-the-cloud teenagers
he was the wildly talented captain
whereas, i, was just wild
good friends, only semi-close in the way
boys often must stay, not best mates
yet we talked of renting a place
in the city, when we went there to study
two country kids planning for uni
most around us had no such goal
we’d talk about it for hours, at training
in the car to away games, making the idea safe
yet as he was a few years younger
i went before him & we slipped apart
another precious thing lost
for reasons i still don’t understand
#87. Dammit, one off the other call I really wanted 🙂