24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
We called it Joe Pond
for the neighbor who owned it.
Never laid eyes on him
but his pond was full of bass,
carp, and catfish big as Siamese.
I have photos of three generations –
mama, little brother, his little girl –
each perched on the edge of nowhere,
disappearing, thrown back into the universe.
they see me, and yet; I am invisible
to be pulled, stretched, and used
like a worn but beautiful canvas
each new day, the same ritual
tucked, painted, squeezed,
but that is the way.
I am to serve, and to hold court.
I push my spirit and hide it deep within
so it cannot see
what lies before me,
but that is the way.
I repeat the rituals day after day
in preparation,
because that is the way.
Before each night falls, I ready myself.
I wash, I dress, and I shuffle into the night
because that is the way.
By: KMH 2015
What would happen if you died and I did not hear of it?
Nothing.
I did not even hear if you had gone on living.
Outside, the poppies are nodding their heads in agreement.
They are docile creatures.
That is easy – they know the seeds they came from.
Inside, we will have rice on the table. Always rice.
Even when we go out, I do my best
to order rice. It was rice that fed our togetherness.
Now, we are joined by nothing, not even our names.
In the beginning, it was hard
to live without a name. Now, my name is of my own making.
Today, I have been thinking of you. Not in an unkind way
but almost as a total stranger
would shake the hand of another at the end of a war.
(c) Ella Wagemakers, 19.30 Dutch time (= 13.33 EST in the US)
Write a persona poem. (Elitist)
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I see you there,
hustling and bustling—up and down
this busy street, pressing in on peoples
lives with your scummy rags and watery
Windex. NO! I don’t want my windows
washed by those hands. This Mercedes
deserves the gentle touch of machine
controlled brushes. I don’t care that your
children are here to help too, I don’t want
anything to do with you. Do you think I get
out of work and care to have my time imposed
upon by some poor folk? It’s not my fault
you didn’t go to college. You should
have tried harder, woman. No I don’t want
a bouquet of roses, throw them on your
grave and drop dead.
surface wind
over the lake
no willows
to bend over
before my
apprentice wizard
craft…
nature can also
do magic
at Hogwarts
Mommy is giving me that look again
I wish we would just play pretend
She’s going to lean in close to my face
Very seriously, while making sounds I don’t understand
Wait… I think this mumble jumble gibberish
The grown ups speak has meaning
Now mom keeps pointing to that picture, repeating the same thing
Let me try… “eye keen” no… that’s not it… “eyes kweem”
What is this foolish woman trying to do?
She looks so silly with her eyes so big
pointing to her mouth dramatically, too
Thinking the exaggeration will help me learn
Mom, I clearly hear you saying “ice cream”
But learning to say it is a difficult thing
If trying again will make you stop,
Then I’ll give it another shot
“ice kweeeeeeem”
Look at mommy gleam!
“ICE kweeeeem!”
I’ve got it! Mommy is smiling so big!
Yummmmmy! So this deliciousness has a name
And all this time I thought it was mommy’s silly game
Every time I wake, I learn something new
Maybe tomorrow I’ll teach mommy about my nose’s green goo
My Miracle is yet to meet my yearning soul
Still scanning this Universe with some light years ahead of us
He and I are like lost stars in this ocean of constellations
The crescent moon is at bay with its beaming glory
Unknown ’til now that we might be each other’s destiny.
Author/Poet Elizabeth Esguerra Castillo
Granting wishes
Righting wrongs
Waving wands
Singing songs
A fairy’s work is never done
Happy thoughts
Children fly
Boys lost
Mothers cry
A fairy’s day isn’t all fun
Crocodiles tick
Pirates fight
Darling children
Homeward flight
A fairy’s world is full of woe
Believers clap
Lives saved
Lost found
Adventure craved
A fairy’s life, I love it so
I ran.
I ran to run towards and away.
I ran to move.
Like a shark, I would die, if I did not move.
Columns of sorrow rose up in this city.
I never perceived them before.
It took near-fatal heartbreak,
To become sensible
To the near-fatal heartbreak that is like fabric,
Like mesh,
The warp and the weft.
You.
You threw a javelin.
How did you have such perfect aim?
And I, compelled to run,
Cannot remove it, or I will die outright.
What a heavy object with which to move.
What weight I bear because of you (because of me).
I have power buttons and thunder sounds,
And they complain I run too loud.
But I stand still, balanced
On their window sill,
Half in and half out,
In the heat and in the house.
I may not look like a ballerina,
But that is what I am.
I dance my cold air dance
Like a swan in the moon light
My boxy shape and industrious frame
Dances en point in the cool
Relief of restful human dreams.