24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Someone tasted out the wine
After a big blooter over their mind
Brittles anger over wineglass
Became emptied, the pockets were punctured
Whose hands are broken?
Over that pavement
stamped it with a nail on it
It’s a hardback issue to those footsteps
Roaming here and there
In search of some space
Who can adjust those pieces with knitting
Hour 5, Prompt 5
Space, oak, knitting, sunflower, hardback
No Space Between Us (a poem from Onweald)
The thick oak planks beneath my feet
are smoothed, so polished with resin,
that they speak to foundational strength
and planning put into motion ages ago.
As if it were always fate knitting our lives so tightly,
rightly,
That there’s no space between us
I could spend each day of eternity on this swing,
it’s hardback wood supporting
our quiet contemplation of approaching night
and the scent of heather, wildflowers wafting
across the fields the enemy would burn to reach us.
As if it were always fate knitting our souls so tightly,
rightly,
That there’s no space between us
I will spend each night of eternity at your side,
your perfect power a complement
to my perfect strength in the approaching storm
With commitment, engagement, this bond entwined
like sunflowers turning toward one another in the dark.
They buried a seed and thought it would die
Not realizing it was a Sunflower and
It would push through the soil and shine
I fell from a brown satchel, carried by farmer Ted,
Trampled into the ground and in that space
I stayed, grew and survived
Tough as nails,
I burst through gravel and dirt to meet my namesake, the Sun
The boldness of yellow I grin and thrive
Not even cheddar cheese could show up as yellow as I
“But did you notice the flowers?”
asked the man who stopped
to help me fix the flat on my bike
after I had complained how
my ride had been ruined.
I hadn’t.
I had biked nearly fifty miles
churning hips pounding the pedals
eyes steady ahead, thinking only
of the next fifty I wanted
to cover that day.
Ever since, I have noticed
every bike ride I look around
see the wildflowers in the ditches
the planted flowers in the yards
miles behind me and miles ahead.
Even now, when I look into an image
a weatherworn window frame
tucked into its concrete wall and brick
spindling leafless fingers of ivy gripping tight
giving all the auspices of death –
But did you notice the blue sky?
[Prompt 5: Picture]
Death has lent his whispers
the pain of sorrow has filled my heart
I gaze up at the despairing heavens
imploring the miracle of life.
Death has spoken to the one I love
Go away, I say. Go Away!
I gaze up at the silent heavens
There is no miracle of life.
She sprayed on the perfume
And set it on the dresser
She reached over for her glass of champagne
She sip a little bit awe
Just when the fan begin to turn
And her sweet perfume
She held her breath in attempt
To keep a piece of mind
In all of the right place
There is only bare skin
And a trace of her birthmark
find me in the overgrown
out of tune and out of touch
performing for the wisps
filled with webs and nothing more
position me as you see fit
take a photo and call it art
remove the parts that suit you best
just don’t touch the face
leave the hair the way it is
your favorite feature – keep it long
keep me longing for the day
I learn to play a better role
on her own path
she always had a satchel filled with lavender by her side,
the fireplace roaring and warming her small space; a
wine glass on the side table. she preferred a hardback
to the new-fangled softcovers, one that was sturdy and
would last the ages, as if a metaphor for herself. but
continuing the story from chapter twenty would have
to wait. a ball of wool—cashmere—for her daughter
living up in the big city, rolled from her lap. her knitting
needles never missed a stitch, clacking away the late
afternoon, while a pot-roast sizzled and spit on the stove.
the popcorn stitch, which was what her daughter asked for,
was new to her, but she laboured and worked her fingers
until her knuckles felt raw, to be sure she had it just right.
her daughter was enrolled in university and would be
taking a job soon after graduation. would these needles
then be put away with no promise of little feet to wear
her knitted slippers, or little arms to poke through the
sleeves of sweaters, or patterned blankets to keep the
grandchildren warm? no matter, she thought, standing
and placing the roll of wool on the oak table, where a
fresh sunflower graced a gilded vase. each must take
their own path before the nail seals the coffin, that is
what her mother always told her. a mouse scurried
under the floorboard, a dropped piece of cheddar cheese
in his tiny paws; from her lunch, no doubt, and she knew
he would feast on what he’d found. her daughter would
feast, as well. not just on knowledge, but on the path
she wandered, feeling the firm pavement beneath her
feet. pavement that took her away from home, but on
a path to her future. her destiny. her life.
(I was able to use all ten words from this prompt: Hardback, sunflower, knitting, cheddar cheese, space, wine glass, pavement, nail, oak, satchel)
Hardback novel in hand–really, is there any other kind?–
the lady with the sunflower satchel and her knitting materials
headed to sit under the oak tree.
Wine glass in hand–wasn’t chardonnay the best–
the lady nibbled on the cheddar cheese
while she read the hardback novel in her hand.
The space around was empty–as was her wineglass.
The lady with the sunflower satchel, knitting complete,
turned the last page of her hardback novel with a sigh.
She took the nail–scratched her name on the pavement–
and the lady with the hardback novel and the sunflower satchel
wondered how on earth she got to this place.
Lumbering down the pavement,
Satchel in hand,
Insides wrapped
in tangles of pain.
Or was it just hunger,
nothing was gained.
“Ah, a welcomed café.
With space for me!”
She chose the oak one.
A hardback chair
at the table with a sunflower cloth.
“Please bring me some cheese,
Cheddar is best.”
Spying the wineglass on his tray,
She calmly stated
“I’ll have a red, today.”
She pulled out her manuscript.
Her lips, now tight and thin,
whispered aloud,
“Nail a deal for a hardback and
This one’s a win.”