24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
I only surrender
to him
and silhouettes,
I wear white
as a promise
to myself.
In a world of terms and conditions
printed in black & white
I find white chaotic
instead of serene.
Perhaps, it has more
scope to get
printed in a colourful world.
How quiet this speechless room
Here silence is a silver line
Some souls are in asleep
Their own feelings, experiences
Those who evaluate the interiors
They Slept on those shelves as a book.
Some people are studying
Page by page, they started reading with a mind.
meditating themselves in silence mode.
Others readers searching for its depth
Enjoying some knowledge
The books are assembled in one place
Discovering their souls.
2
Children
Waves in the classroom
Are erupting
Future dreams are confident in themselves
Running with game songs.
3
In the morning flowers from the tree
The ground is one of the air curtains
The wings have been shown solely
To give a sense of proportion.
To distribute fragrances.
The leaves are for the tree
Turned into decoration
4.
Empty hand bags went to mart
They returned home with heavy hearts
Vegetables, fruits etc.,
in kitchen knife bisects
They stand to fall victim to many wounds
5.
people who are unknown
Some words they are flowing
Some are tuned into silent mood
They are only spectators
Didn’t want to go,
I felt so comfortable,
Inevitable,
Only through chances comes growth,
Taking chances despite fear.
The congregation nod as the pastor “preaches”
he decrees death upon women following other people’s husbands
“Ride on Sir” Ejiro echoes
Now she turns to me
gifts me an ear-to-ear grin
then points with her gaze
“that woman is sleeping with the husband of the woman sitting next to her”.
“How do you know this?” I ask.
“Everyone does. They’re best friends but she goes on trips with her friend’s husband
The decree was for her”.
the women are dressed alike–
like butterflies
I want to ask if the innocent woman knows this
they are whispering and buzzing like bees when I steal a glance
I conclude she doesn’t.
The pastor decrees the wrath of God on promiscuous members of the church
he ends his preaching and praises ring to God
We dance out to give our offerings
as the drum thuds to the keys the choir hit in their praise
I begin to feel the service was worth my time.
An announcer mounts the podium to announce Thanksgiving
The butterflies flutter to the back of the church.
the cheating husband trudges to join them
a little girl and a boy walk in front of the couple–
beautiful fruits of the union
the pastor blesses the man
cries how much he contributes to the work of the Lord
“church, this man has been a good member of the church, one worth emulating”
I laugh at the hypocrisy.
I kiss Ejiro goodbye
promise to bring her my famous Oha soup to work the next day.
Making oha soup is very therapeutic to me even if I don’t eat it
That is better hypocrisy to watch.
2022 prompt/hour 12:
“my hobby can beat up your hobby”
Generic questions are offered when meeting most people
Generic answers are given back by most too
What do you do for a living?
Are you married?
Do you have kids?
Or if not – when are you going to?
But – where it can get interesting is…
What hobbies are you interested in?
We’re your hobbies ever different?
People are fascinating
People can tell you so much with this answer
Many have –
quiet hobbies
ordinary hobbies
reserved hobbies
calm hobbies
Mine?
It was different – when I was younger
!FIGHT ME!
I learned to fight
I learned to throw axes
I learned to dish plate
I learned to sew under armour
All of this so I could chuck axes
All of this to rage *safely*
All of this because a safe outlet is important
All because everyone at events knows the rules
All because marshals enforce them
But don’t forget …
My former hobby could definitely beat up your hobby!
Merry – LordCricket 2022 poetry marathon
Forever
Destiny brought us close
our love will shape it
if you are with me
everything is our world
if you are not
an exile for us
Together today
tomorrow unknown
but our love under the sky
will remain forever
Hour 10
@varenyas
I seek you out
in sands bathed shadow green and sunset yellow
while grey waters eddy at my feet
and sea creatures float in the shallows before me
I seek you out
with halting cadence and
uncertain language
its logic trail lost
I seek you out
from under love’s ambivalence
with tides rising and
an ocean surface that mirrors nothing
Nothing mirrors an ocean’s surface.
When faced with a Monolith
this obsidian, third-dimensional
Plane of featurelessness from beyond Jupiter,
How does one respond?
Is there an etiquette to meeting mystery?
Should I say that I come in peace,
Shave, shower and put on my best suit
For such an occasion?
Should I beg for my life?
Should I bend a knee in some faux grandiosity?
Or should I jump in and be scattered across the solar system,
Transmuted into a melanated galaxy child?