24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Picture prompt;
September
If I could stay here
and make this crossroads my home
I would.
Before decisions delineate paths
and fate separates from its course.
It could be cosy
in these woods
in the middle of nowhere
between here and there
the endless fugue of somewhere
not yet known;
leeway, midway
in September
when the last light burns its fire
before the leaves change
and darkness lays its claim. (more…)
The sun has set
And so work begins…
In the middle of nowhere
I spend my time
I greet strangers like friends
I know a few passers-by
Apart from greetings,
I am mostly alone
I eat my lunch in silence
As the night goes on
As four o’clock approaches,
I get ready to go
My shift will be taken over
And I will be on my way home
However, on this night, nobody comes
And I’m stuck alone
I put down my bag,
I pick up the phone
The only thing I hear
Is a high-pitched dialtone
And my sudden shallow breath
As I realise I’m not alone
I am not a fighter
But I shall stand my ground
For if I am to go,
Of myself, I hope to be proud.
my brother had cake, strawberry
it was his birthday
father wasn’t available, mum has died some
years ago.
You don’t know that you missed loved ones
until you want their smile as second oxygen but
they are no where to be found.
Daddy found a younger mistress, mum was depressed
she took help in bottles, she lived
died at a young age
today is my brother’s birthday, he’s not happy
he can’t escape being unhappy,
We just live.
© Àdèlé
“I want you in my life,” you said.
I believed you really meant it.
But for someone who
Wants me in their life
You are remarkably silent
And this relationship feels
Awfully one sided.
Maybe we have different ideas
Of what it means to want someone?
I know you don’t see me as more
Than just a friend.
But even as your friend
I am feeling left behind
And forgotten.
Now, now, there’s no need to worry
I am not trying to call you out.
I mean, not really, I don’t think.
I’m just trying to express how I feel.
It’s absolutely NOT a reflection on you.
I am totally fine being “that friend.”
You know, that friend of convenience,
The one you only have to think about
If they are standing next to you,
Or when they text you “Hello.”
But don’t feel pressured
To respond to my text right away
Or even in the same day.
I am just here for your convenience.
It’s been a couple of months
Since we last talked.
I should probably ask for my comics back.
Not that I don’t trust you’ll give them back eventually,
I wouldn’t have loaned them to you if I didn’t,
But maybe it’s best to cut the ties now
Rather than hold out too long,
Let my hopes get too high.
Best to squash that sooner
Rather than later, don’t you think?
Sorry, I keep making this about you.
It’s actually about me.
Really, it is.
It’s all about me.
It’s about my seeming inability
To mean much to some people.
It’s about how I’m always the one
That has to be “okay”
With being left alone,
The one that has to be “okay”
With being ignored,
The one that has to be “okay”
With being easily forgettable.
Really, it’s okay.
I am just here for your convenience.
one particular poet speaks my words
she resonates in my consciousness
I carry her thoughts as one with mine
Sylvia Plath’s Colossus is me, not her father as one might think
fragmented like puzzle parts, my mind has also tumbled down
I hear this constant alarm in my head “I shall never get you put together entirely, pieced, glued, and properly jointed”
I pray for healing, a lifting of my emotions
but like a soft whisper it eludes me
We indulge our passions, unthinking
Of how it feels to others, I am most alive
When I am dead underwater, cocooned
In its gentle caress. No hacking cough
Not even the pain that shoots
Down my leg on land. This poem flows
Like the drops that slide of my back
As I take a turn and swim away.
Maybe my father was right, I was born
On a November morning when the moon
Looked at me in hiding and told me to float.
Float away, stay afloat. And that is where
You will find me, my past draped around me
Naked and weightless staying afloat.
It always seems to happen
when you think you are prepared
something will go wrong
when everything should go right.
A coffee spill
on your fresh mopped floor;
shattered glass
when you don’t have time to stop and clean.
makes your blood boil even more.
It always seems to happen
nothing goes your way
you think you have it all in control
you are mentally set
and emotionally strong,
but frustrating surprises litter your plate
like stale dried left-overs from yesterday’s meal.
The computer wants to update
right when you need to start;
the doorbell chimes and the phone rings
adding stress to what was supposed to be
a calm and relaxing day.
It always seems to happen
when you don’t have time to play.
anything that could go wrong
decides to happened just to cause delay.
take a deep breath
and calm your mind.
What seems to be an emergency right now
has to take its place in line.
You can only do what you can do,
so don’t sweat the unimportant
it’s just a part of life unexpected.
The babies are crawling three by three oh my oh my
the babies are crawling three by three oh my oh my
the babies are crawling three by three
crawling and crying over my knee
and I am crying too
what can
I do?
When the Past is not Tense
after Diana Khoi Nguyen
This is how they found us,
giggling, draped around the room.
Cousins, meeting post lockdown
after months of giggling on zoom.
Cousins, first best friends
childhood partners in crime,
Stolen mangoes, fashion trends
secrets shared, joy sublime.
Life then got in the way just like life does,
and we went our separate ways
for four decades and more
forgetting, bypassing, magical days.
We met, at weddings and such
with partners, spouses, and soon, young ones
We’d hug and kiss, not say too much
And return ‘home’ with our daughters and sons
Through covid then, a WhatsApp group
we joined it one by one.
Seven in all, a dysfunctional troupe
but oh boy, was it fun!
‘Remember when’, each text began thus
from the eldest, in her seventies, who remembered all.
Tales of notoriety, her stealing mangoes, and us
the younger ones, on lookout call.
Today though, we finally meet,
and wear the childhood cloak we share.
They find us thus, when they come to greet,
lost in the love that hangs in the air.
There is horror in her gut
Scraping and clawing
Traveling through the rivers of her blood
Begging for release
There is a rage in her hands
That spills into silent moments
Buried deep
Deep
Deep
Searching for release
Anguish twists her heart
Molding it like clay
Flimsy and wet
Unstable
Easily falling apart
Desperate for release
Tensions knot her muscles
Like rope
Leaving lasting indentions in their memory
Tight and controlled
She moves through the valley
Pleading for release
“When,” she cries, “will this dread release me?”
Tears pooling on the collar of her t-shirt
Her body trembles with no end in sight
“When will this horror release me?”
Shadows flicker in the corner of her eyes
Urging her on
Pushing for release
For the anger galvanized
Into a weapon of iron
To pierce through the light
Releasing itself
Free