24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
I spent decades in a cage –
acrimonious
a basket case full of making assumptions
I am locked and loaded at the very least
A prisoner made of bullets —
my ribs lined with triggers
Waiting for the key to turn
and for my mouth to shoot.
@ angel rosen
We sit on the dock
and wait
For something to pull the line
We’ve been at it all day
Growing anxious
We shift restlessly
in our seats
Waiting, always waiting
Hours drag on
and finally there’s a bite
Excitement fills us
We reel it in
But even this feels too slow
The line comes above water
We stare at each other
At the end of the line
is a broken bottle of hope
I cast out my line and wait for a nibble
I sit there proudly, having wove a fine line
But the months go by and still no fishes bite
Despite my hard work, despite my great design
I wait and I wait, crafting more lines with time
Some are short and shallow, some are deep and long
I cast them out to grab the fish attention
Some times I tell stories, others I sing song
The fishing seems futile as the years go by
With so many lines and yet no fish at all
I was about to give it up, it’s over
When a line went under; the fish heard my call
His stomach watched the trout,
With their rainbow fins,
Glide like rainclouds in the river.
Without a pole or line,
That blue eyed boy,
That bullet legend,
Cocked his hungry gun in desperation.
He shot the water;
The blast rippled the current
And blood and fish billowed
Belly up to the sky.
The Fisherman
The fisherman sits in his boat
On the hunt
For what, he isn’t sure
Peace
Food
Purpose
The water gently rocks him
As he contemplates his journey
Looking back, he tries without success
To remember why he started
All those years ago
All he knows
Is it’s in his blood
It is who he is
Write a poem that contains at least three of following five phrases: “good morning”, “be honest”, “treasure island”, “soft moonlight”, “after hours”
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good morning moon, I missed you at dusk…
Can’t we be honest? Why did you leave last night?
I longed for soft moonlight serenades-
instead I found only onyx flavored nights.
Deep sea fishing is so much fun to me
The waters of Jamaica are the best you see
A beginner I am its awesome to see
Me catch a blue marlin or Red Snapper whoiee.
Escoveitch fish is what I love to eat
with Roast breadfruit an Bammy too.
when fish is needed to feast
out to the deep blue sea
we go fishing in the heat.
Sport fishing we love too
it creates the atmosphere
for a fun filled day at sea
as we compete to see you catches
the biggest fish. Laughter is sweet
the air is neat, sun beats
Jamaica fishing sweet.
the ethreal sunlight flows down through the deep blue glass
cascading brilliantly across my face
i smile
close my eyes tightly
basking in the warmth shining below
soaking in the rays as they dance on my cheeks
glittering beneath the surface
i crave this
it beckons to me
calls me upward
i rise towards it to unmask my face from the still surface
breaking the barrier between wet & dry
emerging as the droplets roll down
my face now met with air & sun
my lungs fill & I close my eyes once again
lifting my chin towards the fire in the sky
feeling the current beneath & the wind above
held briefly between two worlds
allowing the beams to radiate on my skin
to permeate my soul
to fill up my heart
i soak it all in
as the glistening begins to fade beyond the horizon
the last trace bouncing off my tail
as i dive deep into the darkness
back to the world below
until the next rising
when i shall bask again
in the light
The things we find ourselves doing when walking in disobedience
Laughing out our misery
After hours, toasting about fleeting happiness
Making jack asses out of ourselves
On treasure island
The canvas of a soft moonlight
That quickly turns to amber murkiness
As dawn creeps upon us
Casting fishing lines into the sea of forgetfulness
Hoping to reel in a real sense of how it is to be a real girl or real boy
But the bait doesn’t seem to catch any hope at all
Only tugs that result in seaweed & debris
Good morning
It has been so long
since I’ve been fishing.
I miss so many things;
the angst of the day,
the silent serenity,
the absence of anguish,
the deep, stillness of breaths,
the blink of brisk breezes,
the smiles of the sun
as it kisses my face good morning.
I tell you what i don’t miss, though;
the lingering smell of caught fish.
the fights over who lost the worms,
the scolding after knocking over the last soda,
the disappointment of never having caught anything,
and the anger of so many hours wasted.
It has been so long
since I’ve been fishing.