24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Scalpel in steady hand from shoulder to rib you scribe skin and muscle exposed to save the young girl's life Ribs, you must pry apart steady hands open them wide exposed will be the heart its defects you will heed Repair the hole tie off the vessel reverse the order and bandage her gentle
I am shadow in the darkness, In its emptiness reborn.
I am absence of all actuality,
Of everything living, I am scorn.
I am the obtainable nothing,
Reality shakes, becomes forlorn.
I am the first born. Embrace my emptiness,
Rejoice in all, be forewarned.
a journey together
her surahi neck
on his shoulder
running towards something feels better than running away from
but my heart still does not know the difference
much like how anxiety and excitement
cause the same effect
I thought I was running toward you
when I was running from my grief
I’m sorry
that you were caught in the crossfire
you still don’t know that you deserve better
Palm Springs was a place that I ran to
when my life grew too chaotic
it felt better than throwing myself at
an unsuspecting target
when I was younger I ran here too
still in Los Angeles but fighting tooth and nail
to close the chapter and start over again
throw this painting away like all the others
I’m running out of places to hide from myself
tired of hiding from people that seek to see me
believe me I would’ve stopped this if I had seen it coming
you know me love, I’ve always been good at running
Hour Twenty-one – Text Prompt
Write a poem that starts and ends with the word running.
Captain Haddock Dunning
Running a tight ship like he was wont to do,
Barking command till he was blusterly blue.
Poor old Captain Haddock Dunning
The men were lazy bastards all,
They never heeded his shout or call.
Ship stayed moored as Cappy did the running.
Running, that motion
Sprint or marathon, scripting
Verses are running
*Inspired by the text prompt
Text Prompt
A few years back I prompted everyone to write a cheese poem because of this quote, “Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.” ― G.K. Chesterton. The same could be said of pizza, so that’s your prompt this year. Pizza.
Image Prompt
Photo by: Scott Umstattd
I parked under the carport,
pressed my head against the steering wheel.
Clammy and reeling,
the tremor in my hands causes my elbow to bump the glass window,
and my jacket softens the blow.
The bayou in front of my headlights,
illuminated with one lightbulb.
reflection of the elk drinking from the water– their own personal bucket.
I long for you next to me, in this quiet.
Your embrace and the aroma of cinnamon and vanilla.
I wish you were here, but it’s just me,
the earth, and the smell of beet root instead.
Some of the greatest works of art were written or painted or sculpted by someone who was depressed or haunted by unhappiness in one way or another. When you have someone on your back spreading word to not comment on this or not commenting on that it shows. What is the interest of people making choices for someone behind their back. I’ve read poems that were words of someone who is not very happily or at some point was not very happy.
Controlling someone’s destiny in such a way that you ruin a person’s livelihood is not power it’s insanity on the part of the controller. I say let folks live. Let them write. Let them draw. Let them paint. Let them sculpt. Let them perform their artistic-ness ( if there’s such a word) in their way. If it’s ugly, or hideous that’s okay. Freedom of expression is real.
God gave me free will to express myself in writing. He gave us all free will but he expected that we’d do the right things. Yes, I believe the Lord already knows what’s going to transpire but I believe He can be surprised as well. Leave people alone if you are not trying to help that person or those people.
Has it ever crossed your mind,
how we are defined,
what makes us who we are,
what tells us who we are,
or dictates us who we are,
in this hustle called life,
how do we survive,
do we keep up with the grind,
or we dare to just swim,
away from this world,
where we are not free,
to another one,
where everyone agrees,
we are made up of stardust,
there is magic in me,
each one is unique.
Our minds our different,
we are separate beings,
still something binds us,
its not our flesh,
nor the skin on it,
not the language we speak,
its the home we share,
not the boundaries we made,
have you ever revealed,
discovered beneath,
the surface of earth,
the surface of heart,
a voice trying to reach,
tells who you truly are.