24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
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.
Running (haiku)
Even in her sleep,
little one, where are you bound?
steady gait so fast.
Who cares if life pushes us two steps ahead and then ten steps back? As long as we’re walking together, hand in hand, I don’t care where we end up because being with you feels like home and all the places I’ve never been all at once. I love the way we hold each other together when we are falling to pieces.
Every day
Same in, same out
Made to feel much smaller
Than the littlest mouse
Oh Cinderella, Cinderella!
The bell begins to chime
They wonder where their food is
Don’t I know it’s dinnertime?
Cinderella, Cinderella!
Why’s the kitchen dirty?
Why’d I put the kids to bed?
I know that it’s too early
Cinderella, Cinderella!
The bell rings on and on
While mother brings her latest beau
Lance, or Mark, Or John
Cinderella, Cinderella!
You’re asking for it this time
The baby’s crying yet again
Think! You’re bloody nine!
You should have this down by now
Learned your fucking lesson
What do you mean, you can’t
You don’t have depression!
That’s ridiculous, it’s crazy
Put on your big girl panties
Cinderella, Cinderella!
Time to be a nanny
so many closets
throughout my life
the one full
of christmas presents
i secretly opened
one with films
of vintage family
i never got to watch
the closet
my boyfriend
stayed hidden in
the closet
that kept me safe
from the next one
same closet
catching
all my pennies
adding up
waiting
to set me free
closet with a mouse
mother scared to death
seeing her frying pan flying
the closet my best kitten
kept her litter box in
my first away adult summer
the last closet
full of old toys
i never got to play with
In this flat setting, humans,
like letters, stand out.
Perspective accounts are being written
all throughout the country.
Settlements are like punctuation marks
where lives collide,
like the rivers and mountains,
the ancient ink of the Earth.
Huge oceans, and an ink-black sea,
shroud a multitude of unexplored lands.
Our stories stem from the Earth’s surface.
In an incomprehensible universe.
Losing my creative brain so you get two haikus. A bit silly but fun to write.
Hour 21
Treetops above me
Grassy fields below my feet
Shit I’m really lost
Stretch and yawn at dawn
Run and have fun in the sun
Crawl in bed at ten