24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
There’s this warmth that starts in my chest when I hear him happy.
It starts up, like a fire, and I feel the urge to blush, and try to contain
the feeling that wants to burst out, full-throated, throwing my head back
and joining him in howls and gales, racuous and uncaring
as we both lose ourselves in hilarity. One starts up another,
and looking at each other is a mistake, until tears roll
and our faces ache from smiling.
A lone harlequin rasbora swims under
the red tinted Indian ocean, its
metallic orange body shimmering
with the sun’s rays. It flits through
the warm waters, watching angelfish
and humphead wrasse and thinking
about the members of its family,
turning at the same time, rising
up as one, never doing anything
of their own volition. How dull to
shuffle left and right, bumping into
one another, the proximity so tight.
To see the same sights day after day
after day after day because that is
all there is when you move in the
same circles. He ventures to other
spots, learns from manta rays, tastes
delicacies from the cool regions
and dreams in rhyme.
How do you know
You must love it to do it
It feels great when happen
It feels awesome
It shows love
and at times cannot be controlled
It loves people
Always bring a sense of comfort
making all feel light
It averts dangers
it has a seductive feel
and enjoyed by all
It has the ability
to takeover a gathering
copyright(c)2022 Roxann Lawrence
Oh no no!
The angry cow
Doesn’t let us
To take anything
From it’s own heart.
Oh angry cow
It’s not right
We will not love
You are a disheartened one
You can’t get back
Our sweet love.
The crow hasn’t much to crow about
His spirit bleached to a dull white
All of Earth as he knew has changed
Not much left of his fight
His raucous songs were his pride
His friends and he ruled in a mob
He adapted well to city life
And went about his job
He often thinks of days gone by
When he was his blackest black
But even at his darkest
He was no match for man’s attack
His numbers slowly dwindled then
As man gained more foothold
He’s finding it hard to adjust
and craves for those days old
The air, the trees, and his old allies
Have changed and gone for good
Work now to reverse this if you care
Or you’ll lose another species in the neighbourhood.
When I was younger,
Mom always had a pot of rice
ready in the rice cooker.
It was a staple at our house,
born from her Asian background.
Whenever I was hungry,
I could always count
on a hot bowl of rice,
put in a little fish sauce,
or soy sauce,
the savory salty flavor making
the perfect snack.
It was also the basis of many meals,
but there were no complaints –
it was a comfort to have the rice waiting,
always warm and ready –
just like home.
I don’t go to school reunions.
I prefer one on one encounters
to large gathering of classmates
mirroring the society of high school
which I could do without.
After the latest school shooting,
I have been thinking of classmates
I haven’t seen in over 50 years
and realizing how little
I knew about their lives
during the long years
of our shared desks
lined up in rows
front to back and
side to side
with some extraordinary
teachers that unknowingly
pointed the way for me
during that time of my coming of age.
This need to reach out to
strangers who appear familiar
and who I remember
few stories of that time
is perplexing and
will pass with time.
How do I piece together
how I got to where I am now?
I don’t go to school reunions
Text Prompt
Write a poem about laughter without ever using the words, laugh, laughter, or giggle.
Image Prompt
Contributed by Deborah Dalton
Now is the time
We must organize,
collaborate, work together
Set aside the small things –
our common ground is
this new fight against
fascism, racism, sexism –
against hate and fear
and control
Are you with me?