24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Since I came to you, I’ve lost the feel for seasons.
Your unerring breeze displaces green
into times it should not be, and fronds
are not leaves – and would not choose it.
When I traded for this, my world was made of water
the great laughter of fish and toes and
what gravity does with raw material.
I have vowed my way into so many places,
used branches as signposts but,
never was the water so big
as it is from these dark nights
down the shore.
Oh the soft sounds of movement in the heart!
They watch the ink stain a story of love
A word written, an eternal I do
Their tale, a turning page, a crafted kiss
Oh the years, droplets of blessings and tears!
Hands stay entwined in the waves at their shores
The beats of their bond splash rhythms of trust
Oh how their love keeps a case on their hearts!
And brings life to the silence in the sounds!
A speck of grey interrupts the newness
As time slinks, slithers and begins to steal
Lined hands now grasp in a way never known
The creases of an oath now etched in stone
A book, its chapters seem settled in love
Hour Four: Prompt: Used both text and photo together.
Icy cold we walk
to the chapel.
Death, tomb or
our warming?
Remember how to grow vines, bloom
flowers, feel
greenery underfoot?
Visitors and guest gaze
from their tombs.
We hold hands giving
new heat.
They are not forgotten.
Attend again as
guests to our joining.
Do you notice the
thaw beginning? DMW
Prompt 4 – Haiku
One day maybe one
day, for now, not yet although
stranger things happen
love can be true, love
can also be blind, if it
comes, I’ll be ready
Some have big days, some
Have smaller integrate days.
Yes, maybe one day.
Guard against the true melding of our minds
when life’s journey does alteration find
that impedes each one’s separate peace
as we hasten to add now each to each.
True togetherness needs separation
since joining nourishes our equation.
For each one’s strength adds a double measure
as treasuring difference adds pleasure.
We thus seek to refine each self through time–
striving to differ but be of one mind.
For each has faults the other might amend,
erasing these flaws while remaining friends.
Our commitment will in time stronger grow
as we continue to cope with life’s flows.
Perfumers live to bottle summer in a ceaseless, amber-colored illusion –
exotic white flowers, beach waves, crisp linens –
and to reinforce the olfactory opulence that can be sampled, then discarded
once the tiny vessel’s nozzle expires (leaving that one tantalizing, unavailable
squirt) with names meant to evoke all the sets of every single film or show
about people who are rich or who are likewise unencumbered by what summer really smells like –
the food trash of the restaurant next door, spoiling and sweltering under the unbroken boxes;
the exhaust of a bus barely stopped for its next set of the season’s prisoners to board;
the overly ripe homeless denizen with his ubiquitous shopping cart and glittering eyes;
the stale glass of red wine in the kitchen sink every morning –
and, yet, I give into the escapism, even as I monitor the cost of summer’s twin terrors,
Ozone alerts and a blazing sun that incinerates us all equally.
–
Don’t you know? Don’t you know?
It means nothing, nothing
Without a cup of tea.
Without a cup of tea?
Nothing.
Well. Don’t you know.
The lift is broken. The lift. Broken.
We’ll have to use the stairs. The stairs.
The tea could spill.
People could be injured. Injured.
By the tea. The tea that spilled.
How could you.
The downstairs kitchen? It’s very… small.
One kettle. One kettle?!
We simply cannot talk about the downstairs kitchen.
Have the tea… upstairs?
That might work. Could that work?
We shall have to form a subcommittee.
Aha. Aha. The queues. The queues.
The queues for tea. The flow will slow.
We’ll be backed up.
It can’t be done. Can’t be done.
No I think not at all. At all.
We can’t serve cups of tea, you see.
And without the tea? Without the tea??
It means nothing. Don’t you understand.
Nothing at all.
Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps,
We’re getting a little off-track.
…Perhaps.
Prompt 3 – Image
Perception
We can look at the same picture,
I might see differently from you,
It’s what makes the world go round,
But hey that’s okay.
There’s no right or wrong,
we can agree, we can disagree,
we can agree to disagree.
But hey that’s okay.
A wise man once said,
believe half of what you see,
none of what you hear.
But hey that’s okay.
interactions with endless limits
of what this body chooses to remember
the definition of limerence
twitches in my left hemisphere
only to become sedimentary
a fossil I cannot interpret
digging itself underground
and I, amateur archaeologist I am,
fumble the excavation
break the relic in two.
I open my mouth and I, too, solidify,
I weep and my tongue becomes a mountain
I speak and it erupts
only in words
I’ll regurgitate later
give me your hands, I’ll do so much
to make you happy
give me your heart, I’ve come from a far land
looking for love,
can I trust you, I’ve come for you
with a good heart.
Don’t fret, my heart is all yours.
give me your hands, my heart have been reconfigured,
I can’t breathe without your love,I can’t see if your beautiful is not to be seen
I’ve come with so much love
If I tell you I love you, accept
my rose, do well to love
me back.
© Àdèlé