24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Your bare chest ripples beneath my cheek
as creases sprout beside your eyes
and my phone vibrates with missed calls
but I don’t want to hear anything else
except the way the air crackles when
you take your next breath and how
the birdsongs fade beneath the roar
of your carbonated joy
Once in a while,
I remember her,
the girl who was once me,
who loved watches and clocks,
fantasy and magic,
a nomad at heart,
a prisoner in life.
But we broke free,
with dreams and wings
So many of us,
and it’s just me now.
I blame them,
I believe it’s them,
who is the reason
that I’m alone
But sometimes I wonder,
if it was me,
who killed the nomad in me.
You burst so hard when you saw me
Slipped,
Your reactions can even speak,
I made you the happiest that day.
You can’t even drop the case,
Covering your face can’t make it stop,
But you can’t, you can’t stop to burst,
My funny expressions still lingers on you,
And you can’t get it through…
What a fun day that was for you,
And I am happy that you are happy too.
Writer: M.E. Flores
Hour11, Text Prompt11
My body is the only enclosed space where I don’t feel claustrophobic.
11 Acorn Soup
Watermelon pie
Asparagus jelly
Sweet potato juice
Brussel sprout wine
Pineapple gravy
Immortal dogs
Homeless mayors
Extinct illness
Disappearing weapons
Innocent children
Legal love
Intentional mothers
Safe travels
Healed planet
Free opportunity
Infinite acceptance
massaging underwear
Free write
Keep your head up, darling.
You cannot see the stars
while looking at your feet.
I enjoy a good ha-ha now and again
When your stomach rolls
Tears come out of your eyes
You and the other person
Exchange knowing glances
And the mayhem continues
These are good times
Great times
As the soberness
Expands to silliness
The silliness breaks down to
simple insanity
The greatest joy two people
Can have
A guffaw, a chuckle,
Grows to a howl and a whoop
Side splitting, roll in the aisles
Rip-Roaring Funny
In the eleventh hour
It rises
The water bearer
With its vessels that carries
Life itself
Flowing,
Adapting,
Nourishing,
Destroying
The water is life
And death in itself
Though the bearer himself
Doesn’t know
The power it holds
The power it wields
On the circle of existence itself
For it just carries the source
Every eleventh hour
As it rises
Day in , day out
the vessel that carries
Life itself.
THAT’S FUNNY
I am tickled pink;
at the antics of you . . .
Entertainment at it’s best . . .
it shakes in my belly!
I need this;
for these blue days . . .
Things are not . . .
exactly at their best.
You make me feel . . .
ready to explode;
In the best way…
from my solar plexus.
Aha! What a day!
Wandering through greenery
in search of a prize,
eyes peeled for signs of change—
her mind is empty as her focus hones.
Why—
what do you gain from
wandering?
Aimless in the heat
surrounded by biting bugs
and blazing beats of sunshine.
What prize is there
to be found among the trees?
She doesn’t understand it
entirely
herself.
The draw of the warm air,
the smell of the water
of the river nearby,
the dulling of her vision that comes
with the brightest light of the day.
All lead to the smallest victory.
A nameless mushroom,
squat and grey,
hidden against the trunk of a
Russian Olive tree.
What is it that draws her in?
Drive,
wonder,
and her own fairy experience.