24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Every year we have this one day
Twenty-four hours where we come to play
We write, we stress, we get little sleep
As we compose all our poems
Some silly, some deep.
We have camaraderie with our fellow mates
We keep each other busy, and finally awake.
With bleary eyes we write, and write some more
And finally as our fingers start to curl
We rejoice to be living in this brave new world.
Lie down right here
on my rainbow towel
Look above at the palm
Swaying in a lazy breeze
Your face is striped
in a summery green
The shadows dance
As fronds wave hello
Let us stay here
under filtered light
admiring the beauty
of a palm tree
Her loves saves me time and time again whenever I feel like giving up she always reels me in.
I miss the soft summer breezes
And digging cracked toes
Into the silken sands of Rainbow Beach
I miss playing tennis on free courts
And knowing every exhibit
In the Museum of Science and Industry
I miss the midnight movies
And riding the el to work
Or whenever the mood moved me
I miss being pushed by winter’s hawk
And the needles of icy wind
Piercing whatever skin I left exposed
I miss carrying my book bag like a weapon
And chasing away the mugger
As I walked home that night
I miss dancing in the clubs
And through the streets to the tune
Of Sam and Smokey and Whitney
I miss the cussing crowds
And the unexpected serenades
While riding the bus
I miss the good times that killed me
And the bad times that made me strong
Home
Although each city has its own hue
The movies take no notice
In rainy Seattle, the world is blue
In Beijing, the cream of white lotus.
In grimy East London, all is grey
Mexico City appears always afire,
In wretched ‘Africa’, dare not stay
For blindness awaits a gaze at the sky.
Los Angeles is a pleasant yellow,
And Tokyo flooded in neon light,
Amsterdam at day quite mellow,
But a daring shade of red at night.
City night sky soda
Starry bubbles
rushing up in delight
like fizzy fireflies
flitting about skyscrapers of ice
A carbonated sugar rush
Shake it till it pops
Make us stay up all night
She makes me feel good
seeing butterflies.
Belief that are unexpected blessings
from God.
We should show gratitude
being alive.
She played an angel on television,
some believe she really is one.
Autumn Chill
Sweater
brisk
hot tea
pens
paper
raking leaves
gold
red
bonfire
My ideal day
Little warm bodies
rolling and wriggling
A bundle of black fur
with small wet noses
The littlest one
leaps out the pack
with a proud wobble
and looks at me
In those sherry eyes
and defiant stance
I have found my match,
my furry little beauty