24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
The take-off is the scariest.
Are you sure we’re cleared to go?
We were having engine problems
Before we entered the unknown.
This little plane is rickety.
We’re bumbling through the sky.
They say that’s the turbulence.
I’m afraid that it’s a lie.
My stomach drops as we descend.
I take no comfort in the signs.
I dare not look back out the window.
My eyes are locked upon the time.
I am the last one left
to remember those trails
carved by beer-loaded coolers
from car to Lake Michigan shores.
Dragging towels, we sashayed across
drifting sand dunes until
someone called camp.
And then you were gone.
Your trysts were legendary.
No one worried about sunscreen
even as the sun hissed through
the industrial Indiana haze.
Not one of you
died from cancer anyway.
Fortunately for her, she was a loner.
Never concerning herself with the midnight luxuries so many chased,
the constant need to remain fast paced, solitude was her place.
What consumed her now was of thicker value.
Tighter knots of wisdom and robust intellect.
Speaking her truth, aiming for the more direct.
Cutting ties with many, only to with herself find more connect.
An elegy, you say?
Nay.
I will speak my own words,
In my own way.
Not out of pride,
But of necessity.
Hypnos calls me,
Somnos will not let me go.
Phobetor, Phantasos,
And Morpheus invite.
I succumb,
To Mr Sandman.
Great work makes you think.
Cheap tix. New plays. Lots to see.
Well done, New York Fringe!
my computer is functioning fine
and while I’d love to blame my not promptly posting on wordpress,
that’s not the truth, either.
I keep my promises. I don’t promise often. Easier that way.
But
a chance to audition for Oscar-winning director Steve McQueen
is an opportunity that comes along maybe once every 12 years…
So I made a compromise.
I went uptown writing along the way. All the way to 145th street, to be exact.
The line snaked for several Manhattan-sized city blocks.
I stood out. No, it wasn’t the poet glowing from within. Tho that didn’t hurt.
I was the only blonde. One of 3 females.
A rep looks at me and says, “I’m sure you’re very talented BUT I don’t think you could play an African-American male convincingly.”
I smile.
Fair enough. But to audition for Steve McQueen…
“The notice said, ALL people welcome and I am a person.”
We both grinned.
“Misprint.” and seeing my disappointment added, “Unfortunately.”
Do I trust him? Is he speaking the truth?
“We are accepting drop-offs.” he encouraged me.
I look at the line snaking around the block. and another block. and another block. and still going…
Thanking him, I hand him my headshot and resume.
Today, my creative energy is better spent writing poetry.
They have had all shares of questions to me
From the misty and frosty past
They have asked in the name of divine decree
And I have asked for their last
It shivered, my hope, from within a why
From the burning and glowing now
In attempts at faith I conspired with the sky
And I have always wondered how
It was known; they had all choices laid
From the blooming pain inside
All I could see was fate and its raid
And I have nowhere now to hide
Each has had his share of mistakes, no doubt
From the winters and summers hence
Where hope or despair may eventually sprout
And I have always lost to despondence
They have had many a days of questions for me
From the hazy autumn last year
Questions in deluge: the questions a mighty sea
And I have had all fear
The sun has risen,
soaking me up in its light.
I crave for a vision,
and a song I heard last night.
I need no words to rhyme,
I need no lucky sign.
Just a lovely smile to shine,
by my side, in my sight.
“Immovable by storm
Firm as a mountain
Composed in praise or blame
Union of strength and tenderness..”
Seema Sahoo ©