24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Without wings,yet it dreams of flight.
Without proboscis yet nectar is always on its mind,
Praying silently for transformation.
How it wishes time comes for new life.
Caterpillar in the tree, wondering about its dream.
Days after days,here come thy wings.
be out of tree and live thy dreams.
{From the 2021 Poetry Marathon
Prompts Hour Eight
Text Prompt
Try and condense the plot of a book, any book, into a poem. It can be very direct and recognizable, or abstract and obscured.}
First there were Annie and Audrey.
Then Abby came along and made three.
Three girls from the same mother
Who grew up without one another.
Audrey was adopted and given a new name.
Annie grew up alone and learned how to play the game.
And Abby? Abby stayed and took care of their mom
While inside she became a ticking bomb.
Now Momma needs a kidney and Abby’s won’t do.
She needs to find her sisters; she has found a clue!
Annie’s on the run from a deadbeat hubby,
But Audrey is rich and comes from big money.
First though to Elizabeth, Abby must break the news
You’re not Audrey; it’s all been a ruse.
Catastrophe strikes and all lives are at stake:
In the end, how many hearts will break?
{This is about the fifth novel that I am currently working on, The Lady on the Billboard. Kind of helps to sum it up and tighten those darlings that keep trying to take over my story, huh?}
The Rabbit and the Owl (Poetry Marathon 2022 – Hour 10)
Once upon a time
In a village for away
Lived a family of rabbits
Franklyn Jr. was the head of the household
He father Franklyn senior
Along with his wives
Lived with Jr.’s family
Jr had only one wife and was deeply in love
One day on his way to work
Jr thought he saw an owl flying overhead
Jr as one of the leaders of the community
Knew that the owls had made a treaty
With the local rabbit village
To stay out of the village
Jr was worried for his family’s safety.
The local rabbits had grown
Accustomed to the lack of predators,
And did not exercise as much as
There ancestors had.
Sr used to tell stories
Of how the rabbits
Would often race each other
As a way to learn how to avoid predators
Like owls and hawks.
Jr had a vision that if nothing was done
The owls would descend from the sky
And destroy the rabbit village.
He rang the alarm over and over
But all the other rabbits had grown complacent
With their stations in life.
One rabbit was so bold as to say
That after the tortoise had beaten the rabbit
In the famous race
And nothing bad happened
Well, nothing bad could happen.
Jr kept hearing the voice that told him
To learn how to run faster
So Jr, his wife and children
Would go out in the overgrown fields
And run as fast as they could for as long as they could.
But even Sr would not heed the call.
And Sr his wives and other children and grand children just laughed
At Jr and his family as they practiced everyday.
One night seemingly without warning
The owls attacked and ate all the rabbits in the village
Except Jr, his wife and their children.
He played on the moon wondering if he would ever come back home, every night there was another gig on another constellation of stars, he was a star himself, blasting off for all to see, he questioned himself, how can this even be me. This is what you get when you sacrifice for your dreams.
What will you do if nobody recognizes you?
Will you become offended and ready to give up?
How will you act if your name isn’t called?
The hurt and pain feels so real,
yet, in the scheme of things
it’s not important at all.
What would you do if everything was a lie?
and the reality you know
doesn’t resemble anything you remember?
Would you try to hide your disappointment
or just let it go?
what would you do
if friendships were lost
because of an oversight caused by the realities of life?
Skewing your perspective
While making everything look the same.
when in reality,
it was just an easy way to cast blame.
offenses will come
Of this you can be sure.
if you spend your time being offended
there’s not much point to living
if the harshness of life
you can’t endure.
Just the power to hold on
as you learn to endure.
No matter how you slice it
and no matter how you dice it
when it’s all said and done
what you do with
what you know
may determine
what you will do
As you grow.
Debra A. K. Thompson
A Mother’s Love
I am the mother of four babies.
I wonder how it happened, as I’ve never known a boy.
I hear my babies squealing, seeking sustenance and safety.
I see their empty eyes peering out from lifeless faces.
I want to feel their tiny heartbeats vibrate through my sore and swollen body as they suckle from my chest.
I am somehow broken; my babies all reject me.
I pretend there’s not a problem.
I feel my heart shatter into pieces.
I touch their teeny tiny baby bodies, nudge them with my nose.
I worry I have failed them. I fear all hope is lost.
I cry out in despair, trying desperately to breathe life back into my babies.
I am now a mother of none.
I understand now I was never a mother, but my body believed I was.
I say these squishy, squealing squeak toys have always been my babies.
I dream of fuzzy faces, of furry-footed foursomes that will one day call me MOTHER.
I try to listen closely as my master tells me we weren’t all made to be mothers.
I hope she’s majorly mistaken. Perhaps she’s confused and crazy like I was.
I am a childless Chiweenie, desperate to be a doggy mama.
****An I Am poem is composed of three stanzas of six lines each. The beginning of each line is provided (highlighted here by bold print), but where the journey leads is entirely up to the author. The inspiration for “A Mother’s Love” came from the true tale of Twinkie, our not quite six year old Chiweenie who actually does go through false pregnancies about twice a year. For roughly a week, she will whine and cry and make nests from bunches of blankets, contorting her little body in hopes her “pups” (various animal squeak toys which she carries everywhere with her) will finally feed. Eventually, she realizes her time to mother has ended again, at which point she will typically tear the faces off of her babies and leave them laying around for us to find.****
Shlishit
After three stars appear in the sky
Havdalah prayer marks the end of sabbath,
bridging sacred time of being, with secular time of doing.
Grandfather’s powerful voice reverberating prayers sing out
over sweet red wine,
I stand upon a chair to hold the flickering braided candle
stretching for the highest I possibly can reach,
for the tip of the flame will be the stature of my destined beloved.
fragrant scent of cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, and orange peel,
fill the air and tingle my nose,
while singing candle flame is extinguished between Zayde’s thumb and forefinger.
We break the sweet challah bread and dip chunks into the
long-time stewing chicken soup.
Canned tuna fish brings forth smells of the beach.
Not from the actual smell of the tuna fish. That would be gross.
Eating tuna fish that smells like the beach would not remind me
of my grandma’s house on the sound.
“Grandma-Beach”
Thick brine base with notes of seaweed baking on tide worn stones.
Hints of washed up dead things and seafoam.
Checkered tablecloth, hummingbirds in the feeder, a happy little man made of shells and googly eyes.
Canned tuna, packed in water, mayo, white Wonder Bread. Washed down with a Pepsi.
everything is
falling apart
i am an
angry scribble
all the time
furious and
numb at any
given moment
i’m glad you’re
doing well
without me
and congrats
on your plan
to propose soon
but god
i’d give
anything
to just
hold your
hand again