24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
command this
control this
option (alt) that
everything happens …beep, beep, beep, blip, blip, blop.
clickety click per minute.
click. beep. blip.click, click, click, blop.
click, click, click, beep, beep.
sound system of our lives.
Time. Fast.
not enough time.
causes our bodies to break down
cortisol to increase (beep. beep. beep. beep!!!!)Melatonin to decrease (ahhhh!)
Whatever happened to thyme.
Romance
Meet cute
Meet cute again
Love at first sight (or second)
Fireworks
Chemistry
Hand holding
Stolen kisses
Sweet caresses
Lazy mornings
Date nights
Soul mate
My true romance
Embodiment of a life evergreen,
Be the compass lit path toward my best.
I feel your soul echoing in my dream.
Awaken vibrancy in every gene.
Provide a solace softening my nest,
Embodiment of a life evergreen.
Amid bountiful harvest may I glean.
Pillow my compassion and pad my breast.
I feel your soul echoing in my dream.
From wisdom’s sweet drops I shall not yet wean-
Channel my hope to babes tucked at my breast,
Embodiment of a life evergreen.
Harken me to the song inside my queen-
Humble my heart to make me truly blest.
I feel your soul echoing in my dream.
May the shape of truth be forever seen.
Lead me through a life of love and sweet rest.
Embodiment of life evergreen,
I feel your soul echoing in my dream.
By Karen Sullivan
Form: Villanelle
I’m fighting the ‘second’ old me
When it comes to loving you
The old me that would
Easily give up
When things got a little
Too tough
I’m trying to keep
The original me alive
The “Me” that had the will to fight
Before
I was made to commit
Suicide
To the love I had inside
When it comes to loving you
I continue to fight
For something I see
Can be a lasting thing
I can say forever
But forever really isn’t a thing
Because forever only lasts
As long as we have enough time to blink
So
I just want to love you
Until my heart
Decides to take its last beat…
-Angelica Villarruel
It’s always a good morning when I wake up naturally
And it doesn’t hold a five year old yelling out “MUUUUMMY
I need the toilet and I think I’ve spilt milk down the stairs
And can you get the vacuum out, ’cause I’ve pulled out some dog hairs”
It’s always a good morning when I’m not woken by a bark
And the Patterdale at the window tells me it’s no longer dark
“Be honest” he always seems to say, “you know you want to take me out”
And then he gets his lead out and my dreams are filtered out.
It’s always a good morning when the alarm clock is switched off
And I’m not woken by the husband’s snuffling, snoring, sneezy cough
I look out of the window onto my rainy street
And can feel the pull of nature and its dancing, rhythmic beat
It’s not a treasure island, and it’s not paradise
And on a rainy grimy day, it’s not even very nice
But it’s my house and it’s my street and it’s where I’m calling home
So I’ll go back to bed now – Queen in my lie-in throne
The click of gears rusting, the brain slowing,
I feel it surely as can be, that groaning halt
as the great steel husks echo, a shuddering clang
that crashes through the empty air.
You point to the formula before me,
college young, youth fresh, frustrated.
“It’s not rocket science!” you fume, enfuriated
that my young brain cannot comprehend.
Algebra, your lover and I, we do not understand.
I don’t see y I should find out about your x.
Two poems each hour
easier said than done
but possible
working on number six
should be on seven and eight
it will happen
my muse is overwhelmed at my confidence
put pen to paper
number six done
a poem- not exactly
a post, yes!
If you and I and them and me;
and that and this and those and these;
and they and it and he and she;
and ye and thee were naught but ‘We’
Not one or two or even three,
Might not our purpose stronger be?