24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Great prices Mondays
before six–if the bartender
hasn’t gone lunar, that is.
Blue Moon Cocktail—$5.
gin forward, Creme de Violette,
smoky vermouth,
no taste syrup, a twist
of gunpowder–
hints of lunar soil,
goes
down
like
a cup
of cold moon brew—
I awaken to find it’s still dark
I know dawn will be upon me soon
I open my eyes to see the possibilities of a new day
I am near the ocean, I can hear the waves crashing
smell the salty air
I run to see this glorious site
as I approach, the sky becomes majestic
colors ignite and singe the sky
it’s a watercolor world win of oranges and pinks
of purples and greens
a medley of an artist’s palette
the colors burn the sky
and glitter like firecrackers.
I’m in rapture, with spiritual connections
the sun has peaked its head from behind the horizon
how could the world be round?
when all I can see is a flat edge straight across the sea
Red, yellow and green,
first stop, then wait and finally go.
whatever the situation,
you will reach your destination.
Three thoughts to live by,
slow a little,
observe the space,
you will find your place.
There is nothing at stake,
no need to fake.
Make a prayer,
surrender it all
and you will evolve.
Wildflowers dormant
Until spring rain wakes the seeds
Superbloom Awe Walk
Report From The Edge
I didn’t want to come
I’m not the adventurer type
and I’ve heard that the winds at the Edge are fierce
sometimes 50 or 60 miles an hour!
People have been swept over
never to be heard from again
But, “It’s the chance of a lifetime!”
So we went
Just the journey was as rigorous as you might suppose
Each step one level more removed from society
more rural, more cumbersome
Jet plane to train to barge to mule team
And I, as you may have suspected, didn’t complain
Once I agree to something my doggedness in incomparable
But inside
my unease grew with every mile
Then, last evening, we were there
After trudging through the heather
-which I really quite liked –
The rim was ahead of us
a rocky, jagged rim of stone and then
Nothing
I felt myself rooted to the ground
safe in that one spot
knowing one step more was impossible
I heard the cascade of water tumbling over
like it was in some distant space in my head
Saw the rising mist
the kestrels dipping and diving beyond the drop off
Tasted panic in my mouth
I saw Paul and the boys kneeling on that delicate rim
talking, gesturing, laughing
I turned
walking back to a spot where I could no longer hear
no longer see the Edge
Picking a bouquet of yellow grassflowers as I waited
So goes my report from The Edge
I fear I shall have disappointed you as well
WORD SALAD POETRY
Timed Writing: 20 minutes
Rules: 1) Write a poem using all twenty (20) words in the salad. 20 words for 20 minutes.
2) Make the poem as short as possible (meaning, add as few extra words as possible).
3) Underline the salad words in the poem.
4) You are allowed to modify the form/tense of a word.
Earth planet stand battle play
pure indigo trio grace glass
wine wings shine Heaven struggle
beautiful defeat lullaby moon butterfly
Finding My Wings
The most beautiful place on earth
is a bay shaped like a wineglass,
pure indigo, battling with moon shine
for the planet’s grace in Heaven.
We struggle, we stand, we triumph over defeat.
we play, we fly –
Our wings sound like a trio of butterfly lullabies
serenading our dreams.
Washing the dishes
I allow the water to run too long
and think about the fertile crescent drying,
saltwater remains.
I think of China, flooding
overflowing rafts of the desperate floating through the city.
Where will they go?
I think about Scientists,
trying to reinvent photosynthesis,
arrogant bastards.
I think of the endless garbage they try to sell us at the grocery store,
the catastrophic repercussions catching up with us as we run towards greed, our hands ready.
I think of the field of corn.
I didn’t believe it
when she told me they used Roundup to kill everything.
He kept asking me, “Did you see the corn?” Like a field of aliens
all sprouting up in a row, tiny little creatures.
I think of the artist and activist Ai Weiwei,
condemning power through a silent gesture of anger.
Like him, I give the finger every time I walk the field, to my neighbor.
No red clover,
No patches of wildflowers,
No red-winged blackbirds,
No laps of solace,
No late nights surrounded by wild eyes and falling stars,
No sanctuary
A whole field of corn
for your tax-free land.
Got lost today
Hopefully to find a new way
A way through darkness
To the light
A way that flowers grow
Swaying in the wind
I left prepared for the journey
Everything I thought if needed
Would be within arms reach
Now I’m here I realize
That though I bend and sway
Perhaps the light is too bright today
Perhaps I’m not a flower-sort
Needless to say I’m now lost
And need to find my way.
Perhaps you can help me?
Perhaps you can say
How to balance light and shadow
So I don’t seem so off-beat
Outside my classroom window
The world waits for me to explore it.
Trails beckon me to tread on them.
Creeks whisper, “Come and fish.”
The Open Road spreads his arms wide
while shouting, “I am yours!”
“Mr. Dutton, can you repeat that?”
disrupts my daydreaming.
I warp back into the enclosed walls of my classroom,
and I continue with the lesson.
edgelords
if i could : look over the edge : of everything : what would i see
the edge : of the horizon : more dust
the edge : of the earth : tree roots crumbling into air : ocean waterfalling into mizzle
the edge : of the galaxy : perhaps even : the red desert hole of a planet : these interstellar arseholes came from