24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Come on, be honest
It’s not a good morning
You over there
Thousands of miles away
And me over here
Wishing I was there
The soft moonlight in my world
Just hovering outside my window
Understanding my longing
Lingering a while longer
Comforting my sorrow
There, in your world
The sun is coming out
Declaring aloud another
Sun shiny day
You wish me good morning but
How I wish we could say
Good night and
Cuddle up together
Questions.
What?
Who?
Where?
Why?
Will?
Does?
Mood?
Sassy swishes her tail and demands petting.
Later,
She purrs.
I’d often leave our bed at night
silent, with you still sleeping
and return each time on
soft-socked feet; to find
your sprawl warming my side.
Without breaking snore, you’d
slide back to yours (gone cold)
and open wide the covers
a gaping nest of your curves
and cradles; your heat flowing
out in waves I could taste.
I’d slip in and be drawn,
(sense sodden)
into your crook; you’d hold
me like warmed satin steel
until my shivers left.
You rarely remembered these
moments; I never forgot.
Perhaps they’re why I woke up.
You always loved me best
in your sleep.
Glistening fire-flies
Whispering desire cries
Listening defines
Order
Creating or Carving “The bounce within”
Sorting
Life
Eyes bind
White
Kindness
Cries
Oh My
Why?
Here I am inside a line
And I fly
Gliding dice
“Cries”
I fly
Nothing- dies
Alive
Eyes
As I struggle towards the surface,
Breath seems to be fading.
Confusion overtakes sanity.
Down? Up? Water raiding
Every cavity, even lungs
Filling up with the sea
Got to get to the surface to breath
Hear the call of banshee
I have to survive this horrid fate
Just to see her again
Knocking at my very door is death
Let’s say a prayer, amen
Must get away from the wreck below
Now nothing guides my way
Oh Moses, won’t you save my spirit?
Please Jesus, don’t betray!
Quit mocking me with distance between
Rest and Davy’s locker
Salvation, survival, sin kills me
The depths roar with laughter
Untimely death, inevitable
Vex my mind and my soul
When I begin to drink up the sea
Xerif, I yield control
You are free to arrest my being
Zaftig me is freeing
creative, eclectic, artistic,
at 2 A.M, I am still wide awake
for ideas come flooding at this wee hour at dawn
in a trance, an insomniac,
while others are still fast asleep
here I am at the threshold of my creation.
there’s something in the dark night,
with its solemn and deafening silence
creativity sets in, masterpieces brought to life,
insomniac, yes, I am One
but my mind does not just wander anywhere
for I am building my own castles in the high skies.
out of this dark night, when owls start making noises,
when wolves howl from the steep mountains
and spirits from the other dimension prowl in the deserted forests,
insomniac, at night my soul casts a spell on my writings
lost in oblivion, dancing words come to life
when the night sets in, I sing in sheer delight!
Author/Poet Elizabeth Esguerra Castillo
Copyright 2015 Philippines
Fragrant honeysuckle
wakens my senses.
I am first to say,
good morning,
when the bees come out.
Industrious creatures,
their very existence at stake,
and at the whim of a
chemical god.
Be honest,
you only thought in lusty kisses.
I was your sparkly beauty,
and after hours,
your strength of will
waned.
After my artistry,
after reality,
this is life.
Pretty things
lose shape, and dull
over time.
Did you not think
of tomorrow?
I did. I still do.
I live and like the age I become,
daily,
as the world turns round and round,
and time though linear,
sweats up a storm
as we sight
the continuum .
Be honest.
You did not remember me,
did you?
I can glimpse the flaws in your shield.
Where the smallest breeze can slip through,
or where the flame brightest,
and the smooth impermeable armor can be torn away.
I can only imagine how easily you can see through me.
My transparency could be seen by a blind man.
My emotions run riot over every inch of my face,
and the twitches of my hands can give out more messages than a master of ASL.
Open book, would be an understatement. Of the highest degree.
Tell me, if I can see your chinks so easily,
and if I am the clearest mirror available,
is that why we’re all blinded?
So many reflections, warring across our continents.
It’s no wonder we’re all confused.
Why would we trust something that is so bright and obvious?
Shining like beacons on roaming monoliths,
or giant neon arrows.
The more obvious an explanation,
the stronger we resist its truthfulness.
Positioned for the climax
When every passion is at its peak
Sometime the route is quick
Oftentimes it feels as if one is embarking towards the unknown
Or doing the opposite of what they say will be their end result
A going left to get right
Yet when given a vision
It may only be visible to dreamer in it’s logic
Foolishness to onlookers
Yet when the floods come
And your ship takes its sail
The fruition of your purpose
Booms in understanding
