24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
The weary traveler hesitates,
Standing at a precipice of decision.
Lost and separated from his companions,
He has come far.
But the quickening thunder in the distance,
Hastens a resolution.
Sniffing warily, eyes alert to danger,
His four legs plod on through the archway.
They yell action
A director of no satisfaction
An actor barks
That time will take our souls
It is in this moment
We still own it
What kind of man am I
The starlet squeals
The fire of wheels
As the film strip reels
And magic happens again
Its rickety floors feel ten thousand years old,
With rotted out door-frames all covered in mould,
There’s weeds on the porch growing slowly inside,
But I promise there’s no better place you can hide,
Inside an old closet where clothes used to hang,
You’re holding your breath as you count up to ten,
The moths all aflutter as you enter the room,
The only thing that’s alive in this shadowy gloom,
And you realise there’s nobody left here to find,
They moved to the real world and left you behind,
But sometimes you still hear them, their feet on the floor,
You swear they would knock if this house had a door.
You are my magical elixir
my drug of choice,
my life-long addiction
with such a powerful voice,
my first thought each morning
so sad but true,
your call is seductive
I can’t live without you.
My heart said some thing
Than nothing
Such things happen
No desires awakened..
Seema Sahoo – ©
The advantages are clear
I left my oxygen mask on because the others did
with hope to find her
he knew where she was
and I doubted the smile
so
cris crossed with shadow
Was her killers face
can’t help
but to admit that
i smirked
at the idea of
writing death,
i can’t help
but to think
i have never
written
about
anything
else
death cheated with me
and had the
audacity to call me
dishonest
but i always
kiss him, good night
he’ll still love me
if i don’t
i was eight when
i met death for the first time
he would have apologized
if the words were in his vocabulary
instead,
he asked to bargain with me
i asked him for art
he gave me poetry
and he kisses it
out of
my mouth
every night
__ar.
(prompt about death)
Light, Dark
Black, White
Birth, Death
Hot, Cold
Above, Below
Left, Right
Duality merging into ONE.
Dearest e.e.,
Does it bother you that you never CAPITALIZED on your success?
In poetry,
jc
The warmth of colour
And the wafting scent
Fills my nostrils and
Tantalises my senses
Triggering vivid memories
Of by gone days
Days filled with love
With sunshine, with laughter
That broad smile and deep cleft of the chin
Underneath that wide breamed hat
The warmth and depth of those
Deep brown eyes
that told a story of times
Spanning a life time and beyond
Giving the guidance and wisdom
That drives me to this very day