24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Prompt: “Write about gathering with others. The specifics are up to you.”
Unification of the soul,
sharing of a story,
our hearts are whole,
to connect is a glory.
A sense of belonging,
a soul’s translater,
for a longing,
to be part of something greater.
Read this until you believe it. In my mind, I wanted to be the person to help you through, but my actions don’t know how to do that. Our relationship has always been complicated. You feel different to me. I carried the possibility that you “got” me. You had me opening my eyes to new experiences. It seems I never saw you clearly. I idealized the person that you were, and that left me confused about my lack of boundaries.
I provoke you, mostly because I’m unsure about my own self. You take me too personally. I told you that I was not going to fight for you to be my friend, and I felt you mask yourself. You started distancing yourself, then you attack me. I decided to fall back because I felt you trying to control the way I moved. I owe you nothing. You tried to discuss your depression with me, it makes me uncomfortable and I don’t even owe you a conversation. I know it comes off unfair but I don’t care because I have already shown you I was selfish. You chose to overlook it, and now you hold me to the fire. I only want to talk to you about positivity, be with you in your high moments. I know its shitty but I can’t be that for you. Even though you have always been there for me.
You have to learn to live with the fact that I am not you. I can’t see you and you can’t hold it against me because I never did.
There are so many people
They also love to write
Let them hold on
My heartfelt words.
They also enjoy this ride
What a great pleasure
Though don’t know them
They are now a quite familiar.
Thank you so much dear all
For making this platform
Because of yours words
This time is the incredible art.
why do we still say
Pledge of Allegiance teacher
when our country does much wrong?
we pledge allegiance
to remind us of the way
so we do not remain lost
My eyes feel like they’re permanently crossed, but I have finished Poem #12!
Telescreen
You barrel towards me,
a dump truck loaded
with feces. If I refuse
delivery, you step on
the accelerator, and
the shit comes even faster.
Once, I could
bolt the door
to stop your words
from arriving,
but now they
arrive around the clock,
like unwanted packages
from messengers on
an endless shift.
The worst part is,
I signed up for this,
and keep coming back for more.
Despite my discontent,
I’ll return again and again,
until I’m too old and ill
to flip the on switch anymore.
I’m sorry, George Orwell.
I promised to resist, but
in the end, was seduced
by the thrall of eternal connection.
They beat drums with a purpose
A circle welcomes all to come play
In the middle free spirits twirl and dance
With loose clothes and hippie garlands gay
Hands pound out a passionate beat
Time to forget the past and live a sound
Passed down generations to now
Bring your own style and smile
And play a little love for awhile
Normal people are very abnormal
They expect everyone to behave like them
If they don’t, they are abnormal
Abnormal people are so normal
They don’t expect normal treatment
From normal people
They are okay with…
Who police the police?
Judge not.
Today is a special day.
Hugging and loving
on a beautiful day.
Today is a funny holiday
laughing and smiling
the day away.
Today is a holy day
One of prayer and strength
on this day.
Today is a loving day
of giving and receiving.
Today is a mixed-up day.
Just a little bit of everything.
A family holiday—
surrounded by the people
meant to most love and
support each other,
I never felt that love.
I’m not what you would call
a black sheep.
I wasn’t rebellious,
I wasn’t outspoken,
I was just the middle child surrounded by
kids more deserving of time and affection.
Among my crimes:
being a vegetarian,
singing too loudly,
being a subpar gardener,
not being able to see visual illusions.
I felt ostracized from the time I was
six years old.
Surrounded by this atmosphere,
I knew I was the problem.
Clearly,
I wasn’t trying hard enough.
My grandma and grandpa,
my mother’s parents,
always hid the spite behind
fake smiles and side-eye
Now, I can see them for what they are.
Now, I have been to therapy.
Now, I know better than to bite my tongue.
Now, they aren’t a part of my life.
And never will be again.
Birthday cake and candles at seventeen
Family and presents
Little sisters, blonde hair and bubbles in the air
I can still see my new blue dress with flowers around the hem
When I look back I can’t remember my dad being there
Never there when it really mattered anyway
Just another year that ended and began with tears
Not really your day or party even if it should have been
Maybe that’s why you hated every birthday until you finally turned thirty