24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Magnolia
An ungodly heat scorches the earth,
Still you stand tall and firm.
Though leaves may be wilted,
Though leaves may be browned,
You stand, with proud roots and wide branches.
With our one shared desire:
To once more see your blossoms bloom,
Glowing with hope for the future.
Observing a Writer
She sits hunched, perched
like a bird but ready to pounce
hovering
fingers poised above the keyboard,
waiting to touch the letters
but doesn’t
brow furrowed, lips slightly parted
staring at the white screen before her
but looking right past the page
in another world
and then suddenly
she moves
typing faster than imagined
she presses hard on each key
and seemingly randomly – and magically –
her write page becomes strewn with black
with lips now curled into a smile,
she creates
Covered platform,
Open platform,
Suet mixture holder,
Scrap basket,
Seed hopper,
Bowl feeder.
There’s grain and there’s seeds,
But no buffet of bugs,
So running water attracts,
What usually just won’t come.
Sunflower seed,
White millet feed,
Peanuts, cracked corn, and scraps.
A feast of old crusts, dough and donuts,
Stale, starchy, or fatty morsels,
May be like bread and butter,
But don’t forget to put out fruit,
To satisfy all the bird mothers.
Is it cheating to write just one haiku? Maybe a little but alls fair in sleep deprivation and poetry.
Hour 19
A loss of thought leads
Me down a path of ever
Lasting confusion
Crossing swords
Matching each other
Blow for blow
“Are you fighting or flirting?”
Physically unable
To fight any more
Comrades intervene on both sides
The tussle ending in a draw
Courtly conversation
Turned into a debate
I am right
No, you are wrong
I am “difficult”?
Well, you’re impossible!
Walking away in a huff
Yet another draw
Fighting side by side
Battling enemies
Forging bonds
Greater than stubbornness
Seeing each other
In a different light
Realizing the truth
Of our feelings
Acknowledging our differences
Recognizing the difficulties
And future clashes to be had
A question asked
A mutual agreement “reluctantly” made
Knowing that when it matters
It will always end
In a draw
Forest Bathing
there comes a time each day, to walk the forest trail.
if I should forget, or be otherwise inclined, a warm moist
nose nudging my arm, or the deep and soulful dark eyes of one,
accompanied by the long low whimper of the other, will let me know
I have gone far to long forsaking our daily ritual.
my folly and shame are met with complete forgiveness, as I grab the leashes
and we hookup for the brief car ride to any of several forest gates.
patiently waiting my gear permutations; bug spray, poop bags, water, tracking collars,
responder, cell phone, and hat. up with the hatch and down with the ramp
to ease the old one’s exit.
we take to the trail with uninhibited joy and ecstasy. the unmitigated pleasure
one has when meeting a long absent lover. the haste to renew the union,
reignite the passion and explore every nook and cranny that may have transformed
within the past 24, or less, hours. each visit bringing a new ebullience that defies
human capacity for delight.
11pm. Poem 21
Running
Running from the flames
they lept into the cool blue
of Front Street ocean
into the smoke covered sea
with all the others running.
Running from the truth
Running from the pain
Running from the uncomfortable
Running from myself
(untitled)
The monster under
the bed has bigger issues
than your delusions
