24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
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.
Thank you for choosing me
You fill my heart with Glee
I promise to take care of you
I promise to always be there for you
It’s the way you need no cause
It’s the way you always remind me to pause
3 Chihuahua haikus
Ears as big as legs
giving all herself to you
love in a dog suit.
Stars upon my back
tiny, but don’t you be fooled
I’m ready to fly.
little one, your ears
so alert, your eyes so big
ready for what’s next
They told us (with straight faces)
to ‘prepare for the worst’
that with too much excitement
dear Grandpa could burst
But they could not protect him
from dangerous gas
from poorly-timed hiccups
or farts in the bath
And, much like those rogue bubbles
that rose to the top
poor Grandpa was gone
with an ‘Oops! Haha!’
…Pop.
Photo by Jernej Graj on Unsplash
Never never
Not even once
did I have a time
that really sucked
that later on down the road
turned out to be something great
Maybe maybe
the next time
i have a bad time
will be the time
it turns out great
Religious sensitivity warning: this is my – slightly pagan, slightly narrative – twist on Satan’s expulsion from heaven, as someone who has grown up in a Christian culture and become enamoured with the medieval idea of fairies and nature spirits as angels that fell with Lucifer. You may rather not read if the original is of religious significance to you. I apologise if this causes any offence, it is not the intention.
In wreaths of flame I watched you fall
Feathers charred around your frame
An apple core in outstretched hand
A plummeting beneath the land
And then, below, the briars grew
Thorny webs from shadows flew
And in their shelter, creeping things
Learned and lived and worshipped you
With berries sweet you fed the small
The unloved and unheliacal
The vicious, ugly and unheard
You raised the unloved of the world.
And in wisdom undiscerning
You sowed saplings after burning
Forest fires. You grew free
In what was meant captivity.
Now the world a tapestry
Of guided fate and liberty.
Of all the richness that I see
How many souls give thanks for thee.
I wish I was a good disabled person
that knew how to act and knew his place
That I did not see each day as a challenge
but rather understood that I should be hidden away
After all this time I still have not learned
and continue to work to achieve my dreams
In ignorance I maintain a belief
that I have something of worth to offer
I have been knocked down too many times
to not understand my place is on the bottom
And I have been overlooked too often
to attempt to assert that I belong here
It is my disability that defines me
what I lack is the totality of my existence
This world was not meant for me
and I long for the day when I will cow to that fact
Thanks for coming by
Its really great to see you
Yeah, we shouldn’t wait so long next time
It’s a strange thought to think
You think of me when I’m not around
Or even to have an opinion
So to find, when I step outside
You all gather round and praise
“He’s such a good dude, a really great guy”
I just don’t know what to say.
Disaster
Death, divorce, desertion, depression,
name your disaster and I’ve had it.
Childhood abuse led to adulthood abuse,
and a widening chasm in my first marriage
became the demilitarized zone
that began with the death of a baby.
Depression spiraled year upon year,
further and further down until
hitting rock bottom would have been a relief.
Near suicide after the discovery of a cheating spouse
was averted by the almost unbearably sweet intervention
of my chubby toddler child, cuddling close, patting my cheek
and crooning “No sad, mama, no sad.”
Through it all, one disaster, one heartache,
one agonizing pain after another,
one thing held true, one thing sustained me.
Writing saved me, pulled me up and out of myself,
purged the sickness that plagued my soul,
and quenched the flames that ultimately annealed my character.
I came through more flexible and strong, more open and ready
for the advent of real love. Had I not suffered, not bled, not written
through it all, I would not have the strength, the love, I have now.
Young wild thing
where did you leave your heart?
is it too late to feel?
Is it too late to say you’re mine, I wonder…
You were here all along,
You had that look of longing
like you were waiting for him
to look in your direction,
to notice your bleeding heart
and to belong…
You belong baby,
in my longing, yearning, my joy,
my pleasure, my pain.
You emanate in every one of them.
Your essence is in my respiration,
my inspiration and my vocation.
I’ll devote my life to worshiping you.
Your being is art, my muse and my refuge..
Bold and bright
your love dares to shine
unafraid of rejection.
and inspite of it you’ll love.
Your heart holds oceans of courage
Fearlessness sets your sails
You navigate the world’s treacherous waters
battered and bruised with an unbroken spirit.
You love with a purity
unknown to mankind
Can I call you mine?