prompt hour 5 ~ mystery
dark sky mystery
night unravels so slowly
pale dawn lurks behind
light beyond the horizon
just out of grasp mystery
Hunger pangs of youth
Clean pots
Sparkling cutlery
The sink has got no spots
Chopping boards but no celery
Do you have a job for me?
Hunger won’t let me be
I could kill to have a nice meal
But my conscience won’t sit still
Fourty-one theives and their leader
We’d cry open sesame
But if you’d share dear Alibaba
I’ll round them up and be your homey
Started a YouTube channel
Wrote blogs
Escaped my introvert shell
And made vlogs
But this poor soul just can’t seem
To do it the way the world deems fit
I’m everything but a kid
Billing Papa’s been forbidden
Since I got my wisdom tooth
Eversince I’ve felt acid
Scraping my gastric wall but it’s nothing..
Just hunger pangs of youth
Five: Please
Please
Five
An Acrostic
Please
Let me be
Enough.
After the begging,
See myself as is,
Each breath a worthy offering.
The Girl Who Runs the Wild – Hour 3, Prompt 3
She’s a brave, vibrant girl
with golden, bouncy curls
bears and foxes walk
while she skips and talks.
Not just talk, she sings
a strange tune that rings
other animals follow
into parks and woody hollows.
Why they heed her sweet voice
yet Ignore prey and noise
is a mystery to all
and they wonder in awe.
These animals, you’ll hear
raid the camps nearby there
food in tents and backpacks
they share with her snacks.
In full moon, especially
it’s really a sight to see
animal and human alike
frolic and hop like tikes.
And at night, if you please
they all slumber ‘neath trees
with the girl in between
brewing more of her dreams.
– Sandra Johnson, 9/2/23
No disparity
And there is no disparity betwist us
We are many divergent colours
That form a very convergent rainbow
5. Creepy
It was in the sink.
A tiny black cricket.
Just a baby, really.
But,
I
hate
crickets.
So, I got a napkin.
And folded it around him.
To take him outside.
But,
he
hates
outside.
So, into the air he flew.
Not on the floor.
Not in the sink.
Nowhere
to
be
found.
And now, I sit here typing
Itching, twitching,
Wondering if
he
went
down
my shirt.
Hour 5 “Learning How To Be Ashamed…”
Hour 5
9/2/2023
“Learning How To Be Ashamed…”
Shame isn’t a naturally happening trait. No one is born with it It takes learning and practice and living and …well, I guess it’s a gift that keeps on giving – ya know?
I remember being taught I was “poor”.
Yeah, really. I got an “A” in Poor.
Just some of the lessons:
Catholic school –
the parish covered my tuition,
but not the books
nor a lunch
nor the required uniform(s)
(and I grew too – sigh),
and the “lessons” were ALWAYS in public,
and always discussed – aloud.
My then stepdad was union…
he was out for months and months on strikes –
you COULD buy butter by the stick, single eggs,
some staples by the ounce, was mom and pop stores (single room) even a Grocer (BIG room and Shelves of couldn’t haves –
there was even credit IF you were deemed “Worthy”
(and that capital was meant BECAUSE it had a cost) –
some were NEVER worthy; I was deemed a thief,
though I didn’t EVER take a thing, but I was POOR –
they said …so guilty.
Mom was always a black sheep of the family –
and dads came and went…
tenements and so many broken dreams followed us.
During one strike they gave away my dog –
to the mayor no less
and HE took it too.
I learned how to read and sight memorize
a textbook – in a day
’cause they didn’t give books on credit
and dollars took months – when you could.
Ever hear, “What’s that trash doing in MY house?”
as you studied from a book you couldn’t buy
or even borrow ’cause it is needed EVERY day…
yeah, shame is learned…
And when you’re ‘tween dads and “uncles” –
you walk the miles to an aunt’s house,
to ask (mom said) for what could be spared.
And the meanness …yeah, shame takes practice –
and ya get to stand in the kitchen, while they eat
in the dining room… and you HEAR what gets said,
ya hear and shrink and shrink more each time.
You CAN forgive, but never forget…
Yeah, ya learn.
You never really escape,
but you “deal”
’til ya die.
Chris
(C) Chris Twyford 9/2/2023
If You Water It, It Will Grow (Hour 4)
I never legitimately considered forever
Until I met you
But the longer we were together
The harder it seemed to stay together
Is forever just a lifetime of casually sharing moments together?
I think forever should be the only way you envision your life with someone
Every moment filled with love and compassion
Even in the heaviest rainfall
You can dance
And be cleansed
With a smile on your face
Angels show themselves the most
In the snow
It’s not the two rings that bind a couple together forever
It’s the love
And the passion
You never forget to water
Because you never want it to die
But we’ve never been good about watering anything
Unless it was absolutely necessary
Or until it was far too late
I never wanted a forever
But I also never wanted a love that challenged me
To actually feel loved
Or seen
Outside
Cicadas scream and fuck and die
for weeks at the end of summer
in the air so thick the sky is just a suggestion
and vines choke the trees as if it’s the South
The soft breeze rustles leaves
as deep a green as they’ll be all year
and the flies take refuge inside
The world is beautiful
and everyday I pray for rain.
24 Hour Poetry Marathon Hour 5: A Tribute to Shel Silverstein “Don’t Bother”
A game so unworthy
keeping up with the Jones’
creating a false image
leading to a throw of stones
I do need the competition
after all, it’s hard enough
winning little battles
and struggling through the rough
Pulling with calloused hands
in a silly tug ‘o war
creating the grass stains
and pain that I abhor
My lust for wealth has withered
I want the simple life
three meals a day, that’s all
avoiding hours of strife
understanding and tolerance
putting judgment to a halt
taking a deep breath
no worries for who’s at fault
But still, a better world we must strive
listening instead of boasting
the modest application of love
the mantra well worth toasting