24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
In your eyes I can see the paradise of heaven widely opened,
how beautiful the corridor of paradise is.
Those eyes seduce me to come closer to you
and have the feeling of paradise right at your side.
Looking into them every second
I desire I can be with you forever,
having access to the heaven that has its foundation in your eyes.
Rosemarie sat on the open porch in the oak chair,
the hardback book on the table beside her.
Sunbeams washed over her. The book wasn’t
the Bible so she had to hide it from Jonas
or he’d toss it to the pigs. Like he’d done before
He didn’t believe in any reading except
The Good Book, like his mama. But he didn’t even
read that anymore. The knitting bag sat at her feet.
The Hearts in Love afghan pattern coming together. The
afghan’d be done by the end of summer, in time
for her to swap it for the soft leather satchel
that Burt wanted, the one that sat in the window
space at Wilson’s General Store. She picked up
her wine glass, looked critically at the sour mash
in the sunlight. The sunflower on the label
had grown up right by the back door.
But that’s what that city feller’d wanted. A picture
of a real sunflower. He’d paid Jonas a wrinkled $20
bill to take that picture. Jonas didn’t care about
the flowers by the house, but he kept the $20
instead of giving it to her. That’d be his last mistake.
To the little girl
in yellow dress,
who stood in front of me
in busy red bus
on a rainy evening.
I am that faceless stranger
who has scarred you
and scared you.
I want to apologize
for groping you
and denying it
and blaming it
on your innocence.
I still remember it,
the fear in your eyes,
that haunts me till day.
I deserve it
and much more.
But I’m sorry little one,
even though it can do nothing.
He knows his harness.
It means walk.
He loves out
Puddles to get yanked from
Trash to hunt and devour
Til it gets ripped away
Mid chomp
Not fair.
The breeze fluffs some fluff.
A roll in the grass
Embeds dirt deep down
To deep for the comb
He pulls at that leash so hard
He is like a sled dog trying to win the Iditarod.
Indeed.
But seeing that harness he flies past
Her fingertips barely grazing
Course hairs
And a nub
If she turns to corner him
He sits on edge
Waiting to bolt like a cornered mouse
About to be the cat’s lunch
If she ignores him he comes
Nips the back of an arm
Runs off.
What is wrong with this dog?
As a walk wears on he lags
His rocket boosters puttering.
Now he’s just laying there
Won’t budge.
From Usian Bolt to a lump.
She gives him a look.
That corgi has better get his waddle on.
She already chased him round
And got drug like trash hanging off the truck
She isn’t carrying his Majesty too.
His royal corginess catches the breeze
Her sighs are blowing
Waddle
Waddle
Slower and slower
Waddle
Waddle
All the way home.
Air mail
You will write me no letters.
There will be no ghostly conversations from beyond
pale or not. It’s been weeks now, and still
you are still, my love. Silent. Quiet. Still.
No movement in the darkness
other than simple night terrors
loneliness and empty rooms and quiet.
It is so very quiet.
No generators. No laboured breathing.
No white noise of necessary ~
the machineries of life as we the aging
know it. None of what was then.
This is now.
And if you wrote me a letter
I know what you would say:
Get on with it. Move forward.
There is never enough time, love.
And I agree.
There was never enough time.
Teacher: Class, Class listen up. Today’s lesson will be about what has become known as the anti-gun movement in American History.
Teacher: Who can tell me how it began?
Eduardo: It began with guns.
Josephina: Not just guns. Guns and drugs, Maestra
Jesus: No es verdad. Uvalde, Senora
Teacher: Yes, yes, pero, Que paso?
Maria: What is a gun, Maestra?
Teacher: I will show you a picture, Maria
Hey, you there,
wanna buy a watch?
I heard him hiss
from the shadow
of the alleyway.
Shady character.
Just keep walking.
Hey, you heard me.
As he pulled
the coat sleeve
up his arm
to reveal an iWatch,
its video mode engaged.
I tried to look away,
but it was too late…
There I was,
a kid, fishing,
dreaming dreams,
making wishes
on a four-leaf clover,
watching clouds roll by,
knowing in my heart
where each one was going.
Then it stopped.
He rolled down the sleeve
and walked away.
Whistling.
And I stood there,
alone in the dark.
How are you my dear self ?
Do you miss your dear teacher?
She was like your mother,
When you were a little child.
At the age of 5yrs,
She was living with us.
We were enjoying each time
What a beautiful that life was!
Gradually time was passed,
You were also grew up.
Dear teacher was no more here,
She was passed by heart attack.
That time you were around 18 yrs.
You couldn’t accept that news.
You were crying so much.
Still there was no one to touch.
Now look at yourself
What can you see?
You are a doctor now.
You make her to feel happy.
Don’t be disappointed.
Don’t be upset.
This can’t turn back
But you can find her smile
Among all patients.
Get up dear one
Grab yourself
Feeling so good
Me with my dear self.
A birthday photo of a dog
says something about the owner
but little about the dog.
The owner loves either all of life
or only one small canine part of life.
Spends money because there is money to spend
or spends beyond budget and reason.
Invites a dozen friends to the party
or celebrates as a party of two.
Thanks the dog for heroic deeds
or spoils the dog for no reason at all.
Rescued an elderly dog from the shelter
or splurged on a purebred puppy.
Welcomes the dog into a large family
or makes a family of the dog.
The dog meantime knows this:
attention
soft couch
food
and doesn’t care to see the photo.