24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
The sun is shining
The wind is blowing
The sky is clear and blue
The grass and trees mostly green with life
It’s a good day
For a party
Friends and family gathered
Enjoying food and conversation
Children playing in the water
Screams of delight resonating
Sitting amongst these energies of life
It was worth the drive
file:///C:/Users/Owner/Downloads/storytelling%20pic_files/23843396_1116965558406503_8867288065344593881_n(1).jpg
Storytelling, captures her attention.
She loved hearing about a fellow
taking a wonderful three country vacation
and seeing an old telephone
and a sign in three languages
in a corner of each church
in each country:
“Call Heaven, five minutes, and (the cost)”
The story had not yet reached the finale,
she is totally engaged.
She loves her Momma, and good stories.
By Nancy Ann Smith for Poetry Marathon Prompt #7 , June 25, 2022
The view
out my writing window
takes on a lovely hue
in Springtime.
Just after sunrise
The streams of light filtering
through new growth,
sparsely filling the
hackberry and maple, give
a supernatural glow of rebirth
to the landscape,
casting long shadows.
And just before sunset,
a golden wash from
the evening sun
gives a heavenly kiss
to the earth
and says goodnight.
How those beautiful days were go by?
Those moments of passion pleasant one
I cannot express my love with words
It measures with hugs and kisses
It shows us forever divine
It strengthens our relationship
If you sit side by side, hand in hand
it shows more love on me
Your silence naughty smile
Tries to conquer your heart
Don’t leave away from me
Because
My heart is not a coward
But, there’s a hole on my heart
Please, close with your hand
We shall meet at the mount
on the day that we wed
after all of the clamour has cleared
and with all of the good will
as wind in our sails
we shall fly on their well wishes
here
We shall sit on our bench
overlooking the country
and places we’ve lived all our lives
and remember each moment
that led us to this one
with nothing but love
in our eyes
We shall think of the future
we’re starting together
a journey we’ve longed to begin
imagine a family,
a future adventure,
the home that we’ll build
this dream in
Then after an hour
or two at this place
with our arms ’round each other, no doubt
We’ll return to our loved ones
who’ll see in our gazes
there’ll ne’er be one,
t’other, without.
Photo by Marc A. Sporys on Unsplash
Hour Seven – Together Apart Mary Pecaut
Ekphrastic Poem After Photograph by Marc A.Sporys on unsplash.com)
Together Apart
The way a couple
sits on a bench
under the shade of a tree
in late summer or perhaps
early fall,
his arm around her shoulders
her gaze cuts right
through the haze
down to the valley below
his regard left
toward the promise
of the sky as if he can determine
the way the wind will blow.
He stands at lakes edge
waiting
Morning comes to find him
waiting
His little mouth turned down in
sadness
Calling him in for lunch he exudes
sadness
Back to the big lake he’s standing
waiting
Night comes and he’s still there
waiting
We hear it and his little boy smile
glowing
Adult and grandson together
glowing
With squeals of delight he runs to
him
Stops dead, there’s another with
him
I laugh and hug my little grandson
happy
Exclaiming, look at him married and
happy
His pet duck Quacky has returned
home
Now two ducks, one boy and me are
home
‘Come one! Come all! Speak to me of other things!
Within this ally, kindly don’t dilly dally, see what Dyer-Bolique Brings!
Notice my coat, observe my hat, pondering on my offerings.
Within my whim, step on in, attend my theatre frightening!’
I turn to my torturous dove, ‘Dispense your love, fools are gathering!
The living undead, through plenty of dread, wondering at my blathering’s.
In awe they are, in stupor they seem, rapt in my entertainment and ramblings.
Easily grifted, my introduction gifted, as ring master and captivating King!
Dispatch my will, don’t spare any thrill, make the carnage dazzling!
For in my eye, I shall spy, the demise of the zombified younglings.
Please don’t hurry, I shall enjoy them scurry as searing whips rends limb and sings.
I shall watch, form vantage aloft, a fire escape and savour savagery’s sting!
Northwest Landscapes
River waters flood blueberry fields
Trees now grow in the expanding lake
Habitats shrink with each new thunderstorm
Lean black mama bear straddles a creaky wooden fence
Leaning out, she pulls at tree branches
Apples thud down to her three babies
A family of deer graze a lawn too long neglected
The buck watches me, head first tilted left, then right
Alert to any threat as I walk home from work
Invisible mosquitoes buzz, myriad dragonflies dart
Scent of lilac trees permeate the air
Surrender to sun, wind, earth, sky
(Prompt: Look on your phone and find the 10th non selfie picture and use that as your prompt. In my case, it was a Facebook post looking for a local lawn mower, showing the business card for Northwest Landscapes.)
I ask questions that go forward and backward to help
to describe what our five senses fail to give me
about the disquiet this place exudes as I write
from left to right ignoring the white spaces between words
as if seeing the black letters in their asymmetry is the key element on
this page and not the colorless absences of negative space this
typing threads throughout which stops not for day or night
and a Kabbalist might better describe as black fire on white fire in
a talmudic answer to a query that was not being asked by this
poem but might lead to a wisdom of this world