24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Moving forward with great glee
Moving forward…follow me.
Moving forward…1. 2. 3
Moving forward…with certain doubt
Moving forward…now what is that about?
Moving forward and making change…
Moving forward can feel quite strange.
Leaving the other comfortable me
Broadening my horizons so that I can see.
A better version of me.
You are the sunrise
Radiant heat bringing warmth so bright
Never scorching the hide of young girls, who run barefooted on the earth
To rest upon antiquity while basking in the light
You are a cool, mysterious poneglyph
Holding the wisdom of the ages in secret
Protecting the riddles that drive children to search for independence
To explore things bigger than themselves, fearlessly, boldly, with abandon
You are a gentle summer rain
Precious drops in which to dance, to twirl, to leap alive
Filling full the aquifers of young minds that ponder love and loss
That they may bloom and stretch their roots for a firmer hold
by Karen Sullivan
Form: Lyric
Move
To move is to change
Change one’s mind and how its arranged
So move to what inspires
Move to lost desires
Move away from what shatters
Your heart, though it flatters
Your mind, your soul, your heart must all move
To let bring change for the better; improve
The ceiling fan moving the air in silent waves.
The blinds swaying gently in response
An airplane high above, its shadow tracing over the window.
Rise and fall of my chest with each shallow breath.
Must close my eyes again for just a few moments more.
no untoward loitering
so one must place one foot
in front of the other
(no jaunty angles)
be dignified
the above action not to resemble “dancing”
unless one is within a licensed dancing
establishment
“Work is so good for the soul” they said
as I stacked stupid shelves for a wage.
“You’re young, and you can doing anything,”
they said, as I watched myself age.
And so it went on for many a year
of back-breaking, soul-crushing crap.
I worked for the man, I worked for myself
no, nothing was thrown in my lap.
One day I moved from workhorse to sloth
to afford my poor body a rest
and now I’m that person, I’m dreaming of work
yes, life is ironic at best.
House to house
Pillows and Blankets
Transgressions bounce
Sage willow and anxious bandits
Possessions 1 ounce
Silent mouse
Solo climb within
Pouring out the wine
She does not speak, she’s silent
She does not love him
He thinks of her so fondly
Yet he will not marry her
Seems like every few years
A voice reaches up
Grabs me by the throat and the feet
Tells me it’s time to move on
Get out
Start fresh
All those clichéd ideas
So I pull out boxes, I go through my stuff
I toss out some
I repackage others
I get on a plane,
Hop in a car
Start anew
New surroundings
New people
Same me
Same misgivings
Same failures
Same ten cases of books I haven’t read
The same stack of notebooks
That contain great brilliance
If only I could read my writing
I get a new cat
A new job
I find a new love
Every few years I try a new path
Only to wake up one day
To see the path is the same
The same feet
The same throat
The same crazy voice
Telling me it’s time
I hear that voice now,
She starts as a whisper
In a year she will be a roar
If she doesn’t shut up tho
I may have to murder her
I live in paradise
My path is a good one
My boxes are safe
My shoes are comfy.
I am not going anywhere
I think she is the one that needs to go.