24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
They sang the virtues
of the road less traveled
and said you are free
spirited, don’t let others
tell you what to do,
and I made my decision
under a loving parasol,
under warm guidance,
but they did not warn me
about the thickets of brambles,
and I wore the wrong
shoes for the job.
Withered from time
I can trace every line
Skin not as supple as when we were kids
But then again, neither is mine
There is a certain tone to her face
That looks like a royal tan
And lays on her cheeks like Ethiopian dust.
She is still that royal heir.
Her laugh lines tell a story
Whether you know her or not.
They say she has smiled a million times,
Easily, the exact same way but
The narrow thin lines at the corner of her eyes make me wonder
About the real pains that she has endured;
About the years she spent down on the farm;
The years that can sometimes bring tears to her eyes-
But still….
She is royalty…..
A queen-
Especially to me.
Short or big
Fat or small
White, black or brown
I love them all
From potty training nightmare to chewing on the wall
From shedding furry hair to spilling food on the floor
Each has their own unique personality
A friendship here on earth and throughout eternity
Just when I think there’s no room for any more
My heart expands wider and my hand opens the door
I dedicate this poem to you – sweet Rocky and Princess Haylee
Jack, Baby, Blondie and Laura
Reese, Baylee and Teddy
A good woman needn’ always be a mother.
Merely, strong. With a will that is set
like a mountain. She doesn’t have to be loud.
Or standing in the spotlight.
She only needs to be brave. Brave for herself.
Since it isn’t about always running into buildings
that are ablaze.
She needs to know herself. Know what it means
to be individual. To be unique. Even if she has no idea
what is to come.
She needs to have a heart. A heart which believes
there is good out there. And she can contribute to it.
A good woman doesn’t have to be what everyone expects.
Because it’s her expectations that make the difference.
here i am here i stand
the product of three lands
no ancestors to guide me
like salmon bred in hatcheries
and carried to the ocean
i have no guides, no memories
of how i came to be here
only a vague sense of home
and the inevitable perish
never having quite made it there
to where my heart tells me to be
I wish you would get better
I can’t bear to see you fall
I can sense it in the weather
in the wind I hear your call
I wish you could be with me
say hello to summer daydreams
say goodbye to hopeless fantasies
in the end you will be with me
and I will see you thrive
every day time passes slowly
and I’m still waiting to hear news
but my wishes are so lowly
compared to those who are about to lose
though I feel that I’m losing you
someday when you’re well
I will see life in a new way
I might just come out of my shell
and thank God for the day
and thank the day for God
I love that sweet oblivion,
That dark pool that I can sink into every night,
Leaving behind what I can of this world,
And diving deep into whatever parts of my own mind is available.
Even though nightmares is a possibility,
It’s worth it for the chance to fly above the clouds under my own power.
As I retreat into mind,
my body recieves the siesta it deserves,
And I get to surf my own, private brainwaves for as long as I wish.
HOUR TWELVE
POEM # 12
24 HOUR
POEM
MARATHON
A FRIEND NAMED PETE
Pete a four leg friend is neat,
He will do anything for a treat.
Pete knows how to make his bed,
Or rollover, then stand on his head.
He will run forever to chase a ball,
Whenever you whistle or just call.
Pete loves to march and prance.
He evens knows how to dance.
Pete’s favorite game is hide and seek,
He always wins, one eye open to peek.
Pete knows all his toys by name,
He loves to play that game.
After Pete plays, he sleeps a lot,
He curls up on a rug never a cot.
Pete older and needs more rest,
Pete will always be the best.
Written by Carl Mann
The kurlman
6-13-2015
I remember the feelings of joy and relief when you were born
Perfect little body with big eyes staring in wonder at your new world
I remember the feeling of panic that struck me when I was first pregnant
How would I cope without “me” time ever again
I remember the trials of early mommyhood and the complete joy of eating a freezie while lying in the grass on a hot summer day
I remember teenage angst and wondering if you would ever navigate the waters of life without crashing on the shore
I remember the long year that you lived half way around the world when you were just nineteen
Now I feel that same panic I felt when you were just stirring inside me, what is my life now that you are all grown and not needing me?
on the road again
I notice a wild rabbit
its long ears
sticking out of the grass
waiting for the light to turn green
a long night tonight
as I write for the marathon
with no time to waste
my thoughts on my students
who do not do homework this way
suddenly the image
of the old heavy typewriter
the kind you can sit on
where arm muscles were needed
to punch a poem onto paper
© Ella Wagemakers, 03.02 Dutch time (= 21.02 EST in the US)