24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Oh, my gosh! You did it again.
Why are you convinced I need a new friend?
Why did you get that puppy?
That ‘Molly’ tried to chew my tail!
She chewed up a shoe and half the mail.
Did you notice she pees on the rug?
She chased the cat, made her hiss and run.
You won’t let me and it’s so much fun.
Did you see her try to steal my food?
She snuck upon me and slept on my leg.
If I chase her away, she whimpers and begs.
Maybe I like her… just a little.
But you still love me, right?
Now I rebel.
Now the inner scream.
But no, I am not unhappy.
I am just hanging over the side of a great pool,
Reaching my arm in, up to the shoulder.
I can smell the surface—not water, but words—
And I see my reflection, undulating.
I could fall in, and maybe I will!
So, rebellion—explain?
Well, considering that I am feeling happy,
And alive,
I suppose it is rebellion
Against the thought that anything in the world is wrong.
I have been marching in the wrong army,
And I defect.
They’ll never catch me.
I’ve become invisible.
The house was always the object of fear
The foreboding tree out front
that seemed hell bent on being creepy at all angles
And the smell…death.
Or what we imagined death smelled like
The neighborhood kids would often dare one another
Ding-Dong Ditch!
Ding-Dong Ditch!!
Do It!
Don’t be a bitch!
Yeah, kids were vicious in 6th grade.
I remember one kid who gave in.
Running away, he tripped on his overly baggy jeans
Bloodying his JNCO’s from the knee all the way down
His Converse were never the same again
Through a door that isn’t really a door,
A keyhole into another world, a world of light
But should we fear the light? The unknown beyond the wall?
All that glitters is not gold and darkness is often hidden in light
A charming smile hides a blackened heart, the Morning Star became a demon
Is it safer on our side of the wall? Is it safer in our world?
Even the known holds terrors, nightmares in our own minds
So which is the lesser evil, the known or the unknown?
Is it truly better the devil you know than the devil you don’t?
the world awaits you
with arms open wide-
blue skies above and
forest green earth under your feet;
the world is wide open
there’s room for all your frivolous thoughts-
if you can but step through the door to the other side-
someone whose thoughts align with yours
will always be waiting there.
There is something about the sunset that makes us weave dreams
As the day bids adieu to welcome a calm evening anew
Staring at its magnanimous display of stunning hues,
Takes you to a dreamland, a nameless place, another undiscovered world
Perhaps a new frontier beyond your wildest imagination.
I can paint a marvelous landscape through my dancing words
While looking at such splendor, the Master Artist’s touch
Rhyming words, screaming to come out of my head,
Why do a lot of hearts have this certain fondness of you dear sunset?
Could be that you are God’s manifestation of His poetic art.
Those cottony clouds of different formations make you look lovelier
Wordsmiths like me create our masterpieces out of just admiring you from a far
The gentle breeze brushing my warm cheeks blush at the mere sight of you,
Such grandeur cannot be replaced by anything as beautiful as this scene unfolding right in front of my naked eyes.
Author/Poet Elizabeth Esguerra Castillo
Philippines
Big B, little b what begins with B?
Booze.
I don’t drink as much as I used to,
but the way the lips bop together
on the B and then
the kissable shape from the
oooooooooooooooooo,
followed by the buzzing
ZZZZZZZ.
It’s a nice word.
It is difficult to put into words.
Images created are often
chimeras,
desert wishes on a long,
overheated trek.
Should I take the spoiled
French bulldog?
Wearing the sweatshirt
like a fighter
warming up,
he is not where my
gravity sits.
The handful of moss
without the eyes
would have been better,
for me, anyway,
or perhaps not.
Then there is the keyhole
window onto the countryside.
The tree, the tall, uncut grasses,
the falling down
of the stone structure.
This last is most
like me.
I kid myself that though
my running days are over,
I can still hike.
I can climb the Blue Ridge Mountains,
or crawl the Appalachian Trail.
And I will do this,
through the pain of
locking joints,
the loss of synovial fluid
in my knee,
and the agony
of losing forward.
Maybe, one day,
on some grassy, steep knoll,
instead of walking down
after climbing up, and feeling
every grind of
bone on bone,
I’ll simply tuck inside myself,
and roll on down
the hill.
Instantly I’m reminded of my favorite childhood movie, “The Secret Garden”
That I’d to get lost in as a young girl
It consumed my mind and my heart
Caught up in their intensely emotional and magical world
I’d be sucked in to the painful undertones
I remember crying every time
Even when I memorized the story line
There was beauty in their struggles, virtues in their pain
And an extraordinary bond between three children
Who had come from different worlds
Seeking the same thing, an unyielding love
Together they challenged their circumstance
With the hope and determination of even a glance
Of a mysterious garden that enchanted their hopeful hearts
And through the screen, they shared with me
A vision of love I had never before seen
Through magic and wanderlust
I had been given the key to my own mystery
The key to perseverance, allowing me
To continue to chase the beauty in spite of my misplaced trust
The clueless are always convinced they have a clue.
Shredding you apart with their inconsiderations, deceit is their only truth.
V.Sky