24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Across Barren Skies
TapTapTap! The worm wriggles through the earth,
belly turned up towards the sky. Hearts stop, chase
each other through sunflowers, fields riddled
with souls waiting to latch. But pavements grow,
barrel up through soil, nails poked into old
oak trees, ends protecting the hardbacks within.
When I was a little girl
My grandma used to tell me
Stories of times past
And people that lived long before me
Stories of kings and queens
Warriors and sages
Stories with lessons
And sometimes, a little reason
Parables from Ramayana & Mahabharata
Stories of Buddha and Guru Nanak
Tales of morality from Panchatantra
And of course, tales from her village of old
My favourite was Dukko
(That’s what you call a super old lady)
And her goats four with names all funny–
Hudere, Huneel, Hulay, Huran
Once two thiefs, all cunning & mighty
Decided to steal Dukko’s goats
Oh what a tragedy!
For the old lady had no one but them
But as they approached her house
Late one night
The goats started bleating
And woke up their old lady.
As the first goat spoke
Dukko called– “Hudere”?
The thieves were shocked!
“Did she just say- Who is there”?
Not wanting to take a chance and being discovered
Both crouched down, so as to avoid Dukko’s nazar
But as the second goat spoke
Dukko called– “Huneel”?
The thieves more shocked than ever
“Did she just ask- who is kneeling”?
Let’s not take a chance and lie down
Then no way she can see us here
But as they did so, the third goat spoke
And Dukko asked– “Hulay”?
The thieves were both now frightened
“She can see us, she asked who lays there!”
And thus throwing away thoughts of stealing
They both started to make a run for it
When the fourth goat spoke
And Dukko called – “Huran”?
“She can see us still!
Asking who is running!
She must be a witch!
Let’s not come back here!”
And thus the thieves ran away
Without looking back
While the goats bleated happily
All was at last safe!
Note: Here ‘Nazar’ means sight
Losing Life
Too many elegies lately.
Tired of writing short,
poetic summaries of
long, lost lives.
We’ve all lost life
without death,
lost living to
save our lives.
Easy to lose life every day,
lose awareness,
lose touch,
lose feeling,
lose Rights.
Time to write about the living.
You see,
the chair,
its broken now.
Got it for free,
when the old lady
down the hill passed away.
A nice chair it was,
pure mahogany.
Someone broke it.
No one knows,
no one saw,
how it happened.
My bet is on him,
that nasty little kid
who lives by the church.
I tried to fix it,
with these little screws,
and extra mahogany.
You see,
its a tricky thing to do,
very hard,
all these ancient craftsmanship!
It fell apart,
not my fault
and its broken now.
“Last night, I dreamed that we all got fired!”
We all laughed at the absurd idea
Strenuous hours, understaffed, unsupported
We made the best of it we could
The next morning, the phone ran
The dream became a premonition
“They fuckin fired me”
“They’re calling me to fire me too!”
Heart sink
Tunnel vision
Blind rage
Fuming smoke
“We’re really dissapointed.”
“You’re not ready.”
“You’re just not meant for this.”
Lies to my face point blank
Sometimes
You’re the hero
Sometimes
You’re the scapegoat
Your best isn’t always good enough
To those who hold no merit
The next time it was better
The next, I didn’t blink
The Harbinger (Valkyrie Kerry)
Watching,
Harbinger drinks,
Muttering of murder,
Menacing ingenuity,
Witness.
Watching,
The old drunk waits,
Preparing to confess,
Speaking of our dark transgressions,
Danger.
Clearing,
Dyer-Bolique,
Collects the dead bodies,
Remains for forest fire’s hearth,
Careful.
Hiding,
Prophet of doom,
Gathering his tales,
Testimony to be laid bare,
Naked.
Watching,
Harbinger drinks,
Woeful words of their doom,
Fire lights high, smoke in the sky,
Danger.
Watching,
I see him lurk,
Warn you beloved man,
Together we hatch a new plan,
Careful.
Clearing,
You speak aloud,
Garner his attention,
Draw his fears and watch the panic,
Watching.
Waiting,
Wire remains,
Easily cut, prepared,
Barbed wire stretched in hand, I sneak,
Behind.
Behind,
Wire round neck,
He struggles and cries out,
Slashing and tightening his throat,
Choking.
Bleeding,
Gurgling gore,
Spilling to the wood’s floor,
A new ember for the pyre,
Burning.
The Garden Party
The sun blazed
Insects buzzed in air heavily scented by honeysuckle
The table was set
China teacups
Fancy cakes on ornate metal stands
Cucumber sandwiches and freshly picked strawberries
The mad hatter (her father) played croquet on the lawn
With Tweedledum and Tweedledee (her younger brothers)
But there was a distinct lack of hedgehogs and flamingos
The Queen (her mother) was screaming
Scattering the headless servants in all directions like card people
The cat casually scrutinized the pig child (her baby sister)
Shutting her book
Alice considered
If she was actually in Wonderland
[Prompt: Tell me an old story – give it your own twist.]
It is said that Grampa Fellows’ Grandma was a daughter of the Iroquois Chief of the Mohawk Tribe outside their town. When she was a small child, the government demanded her, cut off her hair, and sent her to a white man’s school to become “civilized”
There, she met and married Great Grampa Fellows, and they started a family. My grampa was one of their sons.
It is also said that I greatly resemble her, and that is the reason Grampa Fellows loved me so much.
That, and I also looked a lot like Betty Boop, which was a fairly impressive boast for a 1940’s gambling old playboy like he was…
The active cat
Running across the house
Sliding every rug
Causing chaos every move it makes