24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
The reality is
something I hear
all of the time
regarding the idea of truth
In arguing a concept
the reality is
becomes the final
undeniable statement
But do we really
know what
the reality is
and if is true
Given how we live our lives
just shows we don’t know
anything about what
the reality is.
Swinging in a sunflower field
I close my eyes and feel the breeze.
The hum of bees fill the air and
Set my soul at ease.
I let my thoughts flow freely
Swinging in a sunflower field
I daydream about the summer sun
And feel my mind is healed.
With pleasant sounds around me
I sway placidly in my seat
Swinging in a sunflower field
I feel the suns soothing heat.
I open up my eyes and smile
Look around, nothing concealed
I get up, refreshed from my time of
Swinging in a sunflower field.
Hour Six
A fish out of water
scooped out of the expanse
with a net of lies
and plunged within
a crystalline bowl.
Flitting to the surface
wherein lies the tease
of sustenance and breath
held in stagnancy.
Feeble attempts to avoid
the anglerfish
and it’s temptation-
a false hope of ultraviolet
lure to wrangle in the catch.
Hiding within a castle
surrounded by the anemones
with tendrils of flesh
waving like a banner of surrender,
while avoiding curious eyes
and sidelong glances.
A hook and another line
descend to the gravel bottom-
the lure, a promise of relief
from the constraints of
a limited existence.
A living decoration
swimming through the days
trapped within a lonely puddle
while dreaming of the ocean
depicted in the backdrop.
There is safety in order
And in knowing that if you follow the rules exactly
You can make something special
Both beautiful and rewarding
Baking is chemistry
Each step leading to the next
Perfection is possible
If you follow each rule to the letter
I wish I could apply these rules
To the world as a whole
But social cues are ever changing
And there is no recipe to follow
I find peace in exact minutes
In reward for following the rules
Careful measurements
Lead to pleasing results
People are not cakes
Love is not frosting
I cannot knead the world into the perfect shape
This is harder
But that’s the point
If life was like baking
There could be no mistakes
And it wasn’t meant to be perfect, anyway
Here be dragons
On the wild coasts, heather-strewn.
On the black rock jagged blades into the tide.
On the sea mist sands
Here be dragons
Amid the skittering creatures of the rainless night.
Wound between roots
Of mangrove trees, salt crystals on their scales,
Here be dragons.
A vast expanse extends before me.
As far as the eye can see.
I watch the clouds glide slowly past me
and feel extraordinarily free.
I’m undaunted by the unknown,
and I lack the wings to fly.
I throw my arms wide open,
to embrace the outstretched sky.
I inhale the scent of newfound freedom,
exhale thanks and rest my eyes.
In the river inside me,
It flows in starts and stops,
And weaves around dams in my heart.
There are few passengers
In the river inside me,
Few wanting to brave its treacherous waters.
The riverbeds are drying, the water turns green, and soon the fish will finally die
In the river inside me.
7
joint custody
the sunflowers are watching
the empty swing hangs heavy
in sultry air
it rained last week
the sunflowers are watching
the sandy path to the swing is undistubed
the rain erased her footprints
stalks have grown together in the field
the sunflowers are watching
Where your fragrance lingers
I hear your voice.
Your laughter
aches my soul.
My mind smiles
where your fragrance lingers,
tickling my thoughts
with your memory.
I don’t cry at all
when I sense your presence
where your fragrance lingers
feeling your tender touch.
I wish I could visit more
to see your lovely eyes
taste your tender lips
where your fragrance lingers