24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
The throbbing pain,
the deafening noise,
and bright lights.
Its everywhere,
they are everywhere,
where to escape?
Whom to escape from?
Today’s far away land
and tomorrow’s hell,
it’s all the same.
Maybe its some game,
maybe this is life.
Chains and tiny cubicles,
torture and pain.
‘Big Brother’ is watching.
(‘Big Brother’-inspired from 1984 by George Orwell)
he cannot focus
yet he stares out the window
maple leaves dancing
It didn’t seem to make much sense.
We had our home and work.
Our son decided to try and take
His life one spring that day.
We took him to a hospital,
In hopes to save his way.
He then returned with better thoughts
But one thing was quite clear.
A move was needed for his life
We moved to pave new ways
It wasn’t without pain or strife.
He’s good to this good day.
You left me alone
I can be so much more now
Create what I need
Growing into me
Without you holding me back
I find who I am
Painfully, I grow
Time to find my purpose here
Expanding, I rise
(Prompt: Write a poem about a time when something really bad happened…that later turned out to be a good thing. – a prompt by Harvey Schwartz)
Text Prompt
“Tell me an old story (like a folktale from your culture, a fairytale you heard when you were young or a story passed down in your family). You can give it your own twist as well.” Prompt submitted by Bhasha Dwivedi
Image Prompt
Contributed by Cindy Whitaker
Ancient humans were a paradox of Genius, intellect, cruelty, and depravity Astounding feats of engineering and construction Were all achieved on the backs of slaves Closer to home the industrial revolution Created machines to make life easier progressive Steam engines, flying wings, automobiles Achieved their peak as instruments of war Humans take the best of inventions for humankind Pervert it for the worst against the same This still holds true for our time as technology is used To hack our vulnerable systems -- just because "they" can We humans, no matter, our good intentions Cannot help but sully a decent thing
On my epitaph what will be there?
Day I night I cry for it
for I know what will be there.
Though I work for the best word
but what is yet to come
Is very still untrue.
What will be the word of remembrance?
Did I just exist or u live?
I can’t say about it Until I’ve gone
I wonder what people shal talk about it
My epitaph,I know not what will be there and the memory I’ll leave behind.
There used to be Parsley,
Fennel,
Dill.
But the Swallowtail ‘pillars
Have eaten
Their fill.
Truly, I don’t mind.
The herbs will grow back.
In time for a yellow-winged
Butterfly to snack!
You have to die
to go to heaven
and new beginnings
need an end.
Sometimes the road
that blew your tire out
leads you to a place to mend.
Sometimes the knife stuck in your back
Cuts you free from chains that bind.
Sometimes cold betrayal
gives you a chance to redefine
all that you have wanted
the life you want to live.
It’s a paradox that’s sometimes painful
that there’s no get without some give.
Little girls dance
with or without music.
Up on their toes
down on their heels
Arms lifting
pretending to touch the sky.
Little girls dance because
it’s in them
To express how they feel.
We should be so brave.
A good whirling, twirling dance
with plenty of giggles
will undoubtedly fix everything.