24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
In my mind she lives alone.
She has never existed in this world.
She is made imagination and hope.
Blue eyes. Raven curls. Freckles across her cheeks. Dimples and laughter.
She is ours.
The perfect combination of both of us.
Every good and beautiful future.
She is named.
Portal
An archway, a portal,
Hidden doorway in a secret garden.
Touching my hand to the trees lining the path,
I step across its boundaries.
I enter another world,
Of stone and ice and wind,
Just five steps further,
And I lose sight of the way back home.
There is no turning back,
And so I venture forward,
This hidden land a vast expanse,
Which leads to who knows where.
Head down and eyes half-shut,
I place one foot
In front of the other,
Trudging on, so slowly.
Sometime later, I remember
A shape in some trees,
Sunlight through branches,
An opening of some kind?
And then it flees my memory,
And there is only ice and snow,
Where the wind battles on,
And so must I.
Poem in 5 parts
i.
I am only one person
a door opening into mother wife daughter
sister grandmother writer
a window broken a door unhinged
opening into madness
ii.
I am only one person
so I remind myself
in the dark hours before morning
but morning doesn’t come
and the day is full of madness
iii.
I am only one person
but sometimes I hear voices
they sing to me in whispers
beneath the murmur of the others
many voices many voices
iv.
I am only one person
and it’s all too much
I can’t breathe, the man said
death is layered over under life
and it’s all so much
v.
I am only one person
this is what they say when I reach out
hand so strong, they tell me
and aren’t we all
only one person
All I want to do is make love with my eyes,
to the pages of dictionaries.
Cum off of words with newfound meanings.
Slowly rise and climb climaxes as I lick the tip of my finger to turn the page.
The world stops spinning,
I’m lost in the translation,
caught in the rapture of finding the right words to fuck myself with.
The pretty ones,
the sweet nothings I chase after,
When I should be looking for the raw and real ones,
the ones that don’t hide themselves in multiple definitions,
they are what they mean, and nothing else.
And all along,
I’ve been steady looking for you,
For your native tongue,
that speaks the same language as me.
Reading the same page,
hoping for a different ending,
Yet, you never cease to surprise me.
Evermore sorely disappointed,
by your lack of clarification when you said all that you meant.
So here I sit, with the phonograph of remembrance,
replaying all the words you fucked me over with.
Hello again
I know it seems like forever
Probably even like never.
How have you been, wherever it is you are?
Is that you I see, by that tiny star?
Is it cold out there, or warm?
Is space quiet or is it like a storm?
I miss you, you know.
You made so much sense out of things that didn’t make sense.
Like is matter light and is starlight dense.
Or do robots want to be like us, or want us to be like them, you know?
Or will the currents of space make the sun explode?
I suppose I’ll have to wait to ask you these things, in person.
And hey, how is that World Season?
Hello?
© 2014 D. Edward Croy
Hidden deep within the caves of a poet’s mind…
is inspiration.
Seen on the pages of a poet’s book…
is creativity.
Separately, they wither in the drought…
of writer’s block.
Together, they inspire others to create their own…
seas of poetry.
Topic, topic, find a topic
Can I be, this myopic?
Lots of choices.
Many voices.
Brain is racing.
Stay with pacing.
Keep it going.
Words just flowing.
Halfway there.
Do not despair.
I saw it down the telescope,
The last decaying ray of hope,
Glinting in the setting sun,
Confirming that the end had come,
Sat there in the browning grass,
Light caught it like a shard of glass,
The ground around it caught ablaze,
An ode to long gone better days.
He allowed himself
to be
carried away
by the massive hallucinations
he had produced
and why not?
he asked
of the wallpaper and drapes
bees fly,
birds glide,
balloons loft
and pollen….disperses
so too my sights
my visions
shall smear across the sky
shattering the retinas
of all who watch
he was a wizard and a magician
a necromancer and a king
he was a Hollywood producer
and his vision governed most everything
Maybe I could just write the million times I say clean you room
or put that away
or don’t do that
my thoughts couldn’t penetrate anything more
maybe the delight in this hour comes from my kids
since I’m laughing that I turned my frustration into poetry
this just may save them punishment
single parent life, it’s a zoo at times
even on a rainy day
the animals are still out…