24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Midday, June
Inside, my big mutt dog,
who looks like an Anatolian
but whose mother is surely a Great Pyrenees,
sprawls across my treadmill
all snores, ivory fur, and black face.
Outside, the sky is smudged charcoal,
the air that peculiar clear green I’ve only seen
in Oklahoma when the atmosphere is charged
and ripe for a tornado.
Still, I pull on rubber boots
and walk outside for inspiration
to write a purely visual poem.
Browns and reds built the foundation
Blues and greys structure tear down those secrets of formation
Pinks and yellows give glory to the transformation
Peach frees the child’s soul of word translations
Squeezing out the blessed women’s Identity
Of a born leader
My grandma in her prime,
Dusting the bones of her body,
With my grandpa’s spirit and ingesting all my bitterness.
She knows the world in a way I do not.
She struggle with the patience of the calm before a storm,
But she is the resilient mountain,
The water of the waves hitting the rocks,
She is potent in her givings.
She swallows all my bitterness,
And caresses my heart with perseverance, I would not have otherwise.
I love her in the raging storms,
Her brittle figure, paints the image of strength in my eyes.
Passion-Pulse quickened-Hearts pounding-Flesh blushed-Need-Desire-Hot-Feverish-Red
Anger-Rage-Tension rising-Words flying-Vision blinded-Fists clenched-Eyes blazing-Hurt-Orange
Joy-Lips curved-Eyes twinkle-Sun shining-Nose crinkling-Caresses tickling-Warm embraces-Home-Yellow
Despair-Tears welling-Gaze darkened-Knees buckle-Chest heaving-Sobs escaping-Hands praying-Drowning-Blue
Hope-Thoughts racing-Maybes-Perhaps-Tomorrow-Heart dreaming-Wishing-Wondering-Indigo
Calm-Deep breathing-Mind clearing-Dawn breaking-New steps taking-Plans arranging-Time slowing-Just being-Violet
Yellow eyed demons
disturb dreams
their spines curve like questions
they dig their nails in open sores
that once contained flowers
These demons drag down spirits that would otherwise soar
Wickedly they unbalance my life
trapping my words in unspoken verses
Sounds become silenced
I can’t move and I can’t sleep
they lay on top of me
licking my ear
unearthly beings
whispering reminders that
these exploding nightmares are my reality
and I am only delusionally happy
Victory is just beyond our reach
close enough to be tasted
and the oceans of pain
have yet to wash over me.
It’s just as well because
I am ready to fight and to win
against these adversaries,
so firm in their beliefs.
In a fire, you stand, read the air and its failing respiration,
move in all contortions forgotten from leisure. The only way
to test your reflexes, in an isolation of self; and your mind has
never boiled to this degree before. Now you know how your
mother’s burnt cookies felt, tossed prior to taste. Burning
a flavor so jealously bitter, mockingly black and sarcastic
of sweet. Oh how all around, it crumbles, like incinerated
flour overdosed with flame. Turmoil the greatest fuel
in this situation. One of many options as the catalyst:
a dream, an intention, a mistake, a crime.
The foundation depresses under its own collapsible influence,
trusses snapping like wishbones, tile and carpet bruised
with black-eyes. And you want to know the time–as if that
will quell the heat. You could look all around, everywhere, but the
blood rustic flicker hewn over the walls you painted only weeks
before belittles the “everything” you owned, shriveled below
the worth you granted it. Your furniture smoldering down to prunes.
Wondering if your eyes are sweating or your body is being sautéed,
if your body could extinguish a path, if survival is more difficult
in moments of disaster, or in peaceful existence.
creamy white fungi
grow on lone, leafless branches
of chaos-theory fig trees
in mid-April: spring weather
arrives late this year
Crash! Natures clash.
Lifeless liquid with momentum.
Plant bullseyed with a bash.
Pushed to equilibrium.
Motionless moment.
Forces cancel briefly,
but are ever present,
battling bitterly.
If the next move isn’t death
plant life wins.
It must be…but yet!
Movement begins.
Slowly at first, but picking up pace
the moment of danger for plant will pass.
Gravity beats friction and then release!
The raindrop falls off the blade of grass.