24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Hahaha jokes on you
You thought you’d be the one
To chuckle last
But unt unt unt, Not so fast
He who makes a funny
Must be a comedian
Oh how very convenient
My words are rather lenient
I kid you not
Amusement is my strong spot
I make ‘em smile
It’s worth their while
I drag a smile or two
The snorts and heckling
It’s good clean fun
Might just get to you too
~Rebeli
Crepe myrtle trees with shocks of hot pink like my fingernails
stand like the Queen’s watch guards
straight as can be,
side by side with the old gate between them
I put my foot between the bottom crook
my hands sliding down, the bark
isn’t rough, it’s as smooth as lotioned hands
I caress the bark, feeling its strength
and peer beyond the falling gate
at nothing really special,
just a place beyond the gate.
My Brother Tree and I commune every day,
this wise and kindly sugar oak,
I receiving strength, peace, and courage from him.
I do not know what he receives from me.
I cannot fathom what I could offer such a being as a tree.
I only know that we exchange a kind of energy in those moments
and that my life is gladdened by his presence.
Did you know that if you stand beneath your favorite tree
and hold a spray of leaves against your face,
or pick up a good handful from the earth,
if you breathe in the almost magical scent of happy tree,
that the strength, peace, and courage of that tree
are infused into your body, your mind, and your heart?
Try it one day; it’s real,
but you have to be open to it.
You have to invite it.
Trees are gentlefolk; they do not enter unless invited.
All spring, all summer, the trees labor to make leaves,
flowers, oxygen
for the sustaining of life on this planet,
to make homes and food for birds, for squirrels,
for tiny spineless beings too myriad to count.
And in autumn they rest. They shed the parts of themselves
that are no longer useful,
no longer healthy,
no longer beneficial.
And they restore themselves,
readying themselves for next season’s tasks.
Would that we could attain the wisdom of the trees.
Limerick Prompt
There was a young man named Doug
who decided to enter his first pub
he had the crowd in stitches
when he lost his old britches
poor Doug had enough of nightclubs
A Pantoum:
Life is beautiful, I think with a smile
Humour can be found in every step, every mile.
Glee erupts from me with great style
I bubble with amusement, such a whimsical trial!
Humour can be found in every step, every mile.
Enjoy life with great merriment, meanwhile…
I bubble with amusement, such a whimsical trial!
Go with the flow, even if it takes awhile.
Enjoy life with great merriment, meanwhile…
Life is beautiful, I think with a smile
Go with the flow, even if it takes awhile.
Glee erupts from me with great style
How you tremble
When I kiss your lips
The way you touch me
With your finger tips
When you smile
How only you do
The look in your eye
When I look at you
Where you touch me
In the center of my soul
What we promised
As we grow old
To take a walk
With your hand in mine
To sit and talk
As time passes by
Watching the sun set
On another day
With only I love you
Left to say
That bare root is here
For along with it’s pride
A new ride.
It shows all
Never forget your mission
The lively goal.
Nothing will perpetual
Except your deed
At this earth.
The bare root of plant
Wants to narrate
A legendary tale of life.
And you went on talking
in a jargon I couldn’t understand,
about things I don’t care about.
You have read ‘important’ books,
which I clearly haven’t.
And when you talked about
those things that mattered to me,
I was wrong,
just an ignorant fool
and I believed you
until I realized
that the jargon you spoke
was of elite class,
and I’m unaware of it.
DogSpeak #11 Welcome Home But…
I don’t want to alarm you
but did you leave the door open last night
or this morning before you left for work?
When I got up around 10 this morning,
I found an intruder in the house.
I’m not blaming you and I would protect
your life at all costs but I don’t like knowing
there’s a stranger roaming around our house.
I saw him this morning in the bedroom
but he didn’t follow me downstairs;
he’s not in the kitchen or dining room,
not lounging on the couch with me
when I woke up around 3.
Ok, I’m not a coward but I didn’t go back
into the bedroom to see if he was still there.
I listened in the hall but all was quiet. He’s
big and maybe just a little mean looking
so now that you’re home, let’s go see. Come on,
follow me, I’ll protect you. Ok, push the door
open, stay close at my heels in case
I need to pounce on him.
See? There he is, he’s huge, and well
maybe a little cute too, ok handsome. Oh,
look, he likes you, his tail is wagging, hey,
just like mine. He’s… he looks…
what?
What’s a mirror?
~ J R Turek
A tiny little bird
lived in a grandfather clock
in a shepherd’s home
in the valley
by the blue hill.
Years and years,
tried the little bird,
to escape the clock
and time within.
On a warm summer evening,
when the clock struck five,
came out the little bird,
like all the other hours,
and out she flew,
flapping her wings,
through the large window
into the blue sky
into the timeless land.
Here I am,
on a warm summer evening,
trying to break the wall,
of what’s called real,
to join the little bird.