24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
When a people mine their blood and vote with it
When a politician burns healthy chunks of their votes
When a ruling party tells the victims to go to court
When they propose to buy up the judgment upfront
Then the people shall go to the ends of the earth
Then they shall look down the edge of the flat earth
Then they shall see a bottomless pit and say it’s a luxury hotel room
Then they shall ask all those in discord to go to court
*Inspired by the text prompt
WANDS OF PATIENCE
Wands of patience
Gently poking my body
While it swirls among the breeze of
inner turmoil
Wands of patience
Gently touching my lips
Slowing down the rage I feel
at the harsh almost inhumane world
Wands of patience
Gently turning my head left and right
While I embrace the beauty
of nearly angelic kindness among
the earthbound creatures
The End of the Earth
I follow the multi-colored arch
Spanning from one horizon to the other.
To the east, a church spire stands
Silhouetted against the end of the earth.
The cross atop the spire directs my path.
I draw near to find a cemetery behind the church.
And there, the earth ends.
Life on earth ends.
The sun’s aura lights the space
And I see eternity.
I am blinded by the streets of gold,
Calmed by the songs of the birds,
Beckoned by an outstretched hand.
Everything behind me seems trivial.
Then I hear His voice say,
“Come.”
Cindy Herndon
Three hours on the train
With a friend and a good hat
Talking murder and mystery
While enjoying a nip of tea
Trying to understand Agatha
And how and why she did it
So many books stories and plays
She wrote more than she slept
Passing leaves changing now
The clatter of the iron tracks
Familiar from years long ago
When we waited for father to return
Now we pay to travel this time
If only for a three hour tour
Antique gals in vintage hats
Wondering who done it and why
Descending
Heating
Cracking
Tumbling
Burning
Speeding
Booming
Flaming
Falling
Breaking
Spreading
Showering
Astonishing
Crashing
Standing on the edge
I look over and I see
Beautiful beds
Of colorful flowers
Every color and kind
You could ever imagine
Waterfalls of deep blue
Patchy spots
Of sea foam green hues
Washing away all the worlds pain
Trees and fruits galore
Beautiful humans
Showing love to one another
Helping each other out
When times get hard
And tensions soar
The King,
He sits atop a golden throne
Surrounded by angels
Playing a melodic tune
A smile upon his face
For He has finally seen the day
When His creations have learned
To be okay
With the diversity that we are
And still choose
To love one another
No matter how different we are
A look of satisfaction sweeps the land
A beautiful world
Looms over the edge
The perfect re-creation
Of the potters hand.
It’s flat not round
But who cares
we”re are all
One in the same
~Rebeli
Flat earth
today the earth turns a corner
parallel lines remain apart forever no matter how far we look
far is redefined with smoke, fire and asphyxiating air
the valleys have erased the trees and lakes and rivers we admired yesterday,
the side of the road is flattened, sky the mirror till the next corner
where the rock wall turns in an impossible angle
throws off shabby heat-dried grassy twiggy garments
shuffles the flaming rags to invisibility
another corner, a little farther down
a further immolation
black smoke pillar stark against the omnipresent grey
at its foot a burning seed
blue orange yellow
once a late model SUV,
roots past the melted tires
ignites the road
melts asphalt
crumbles cement
remakes the world
People say smiles don’t have scents
Nor styles
Nor choice of textile
And Yet
And YET
The smell
The perfume
Is what I recall first
of the moment
of that day
of that man
Breathing in beauty
A riot of joy, of colour, of beauty
And there he was, a part of it
The morass of colour, of scent, of *life*
Of everything, everywhere
*And there he was*
People say love doesn’t have a colour, or a scent
People say the same thing about things like smiles
Reader, he turned around – and smiled, and I knew
Reader, I married him – and we planted wildflowers around our house
Hour 6
9/2/2023
“Solitary…”
Seems a commonality shared within our understanding and even the acceptance of the word “solitary” for what it is. But is it “shared” or is it just that we each have our own unique ‘bars’ behind our eyes?
A Roman Catholic Seminary,
The United States Marine Corps;
years of doing, living,
a wandering will-o’-the-wisp –
I couldn’t even buy a social clue…
but strangers HAD to tell ME
their hurts and of the abuse and abrasions
to their souls… ’cause at least I WOULD listen.
Trust isn’t given – it’s earned,
and people have their own agendas,
their own ways.
Eating is a hell of a habit to break
and hunger is not a choice. Some scam
but,they can still be human.
You come to see that most often
…people… “settle” –
for someone (anyone) to
share a path.
They may be good,
or bad;
but, most often afterwards –
they HAVE to change the other into their OWN vision
of what they want a partner to BE.
Then the “changing” of a person becomes the priority
– until –
the changes take away the person that was
OR the intended changee becomes so frustrated
and angry with giving up themselves.
For the most part – we DON’T choose
whom we love, just whom we like.
Loneliness is real
and it builds and builds
as false hopes are dashed,
and wishes fail and fall by the waysides –
fill our world, flavor our lives.
And we grow our own “bars” behind our eyes –
seeking to keep our feelings and emotions hidden
as our only way of dealing rather than take
another (or even any) chance at all
that COULD hurt… or crash our uni-verse.
Reaching means risk, risk means – it could hurt.
Loneliness wins and each of us pays a price.
Chris
(C) Chris Twyford 9/2/2023
