24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
The place I feel at home at and where I long to be
Is surrounded by the ones I love, friends and family.
The place where I can be myself, happy or sad
In this life I am living, being with them can’t be bad.
The actual place can be most anywhere, it can be near or far
It could be on the moon, or the most distant star.
As long as I have the ones I love, that will make it home
To have them all by my side, no matter where I roam.
(Dedicated to Beth Fleisher who withdrew because of an illness)
After a hectic day on the farm or with the goats
I long for home
After a long and maddening traffic
I long for home
After a long debate about what story board to adapt
I long for home
At home
no stormy session with goats
no traffic jam
no story board
Home is where you hang your hangover, one of my friends said
At home
I walk bare foot
At home
I work naked
At home
I sleep on the bare floor
At home
I am at home
*farm and * goats – are used figuratively
The first human to ever be
bestowed
with spellbinding words
gifted to create
weaves of tales, anecdotes,
verses and poems, parallel worlds
the world at her feet
which somehow led astray and
she found herself
at the Devil’s gate.
Quick on her feet,
she showed him her gift
and told him a tale so rich
that he sat there enthralled
his mouth agape
happily he fed her
some cheese and grapes.
“This is my favourite,
this yellow wonder
Go on, have a taste,
just surrender.”
She nibbled at it
and then devoured it whole
“I could eat this in pies and
meats and bread rolls!”
The melted goodness captured her heart
and she began to sing odes
to this piece of culinary art.
However, this Lucifer didn’t appreciate
for the Cheese supplies at the time were severely depleted.
He didn’t want humans to
find his treasure
so he decided to make
the first poet his prisoner.
But she begged and begged
to not let her gift go waste,
So they struck a deal in haste.
She was not use her words to entice
humans to come searching
for cheese like mice.
She gave him her word
and returned home
making sure to pass this
promise along
So you see that explains
in terms quite neat
why poets have been
mysteriously silent on the
subject of cheese.
home
a place
house
rooted
holy
where birds gather
hope
and children fly
held
soothe the wounded edges
hunger
feed the welcomed guests
here
celebrate the wholeness of this woman
home
hear the piano playing in the distance
all around laughter fills the air
the ferns are dancing with the wind
as fireflies glow in the night sky like a lantern
it is clear nature is alive and well
And now, my frail skelton of a spirit, withering in the endless waves of entertaining stimulus, overfed to the point of nutrient deficiency, all sick with the modern cuisine of popularizing ignorance. How much has changed? Came and went? Are the feelings of each human heart truly so similar? What wondering is there then? What tragic pondering would make sense of all this? What delicate orchestrator oversees such a sad dance? Breaking the tiny parade for small flames that fizzle out in the mass void. What of our pain! Pain! Just tiny sparks dying in the endless night.
Long lost traveler-
where have you been?
What are the lessons
you’ve learned?
Who have you met
along the way?
There’s been a moment
or two-
or more
Where I thought I’d
cash it all in
leave- Not come back
What would it be for?
I’m sitting here in a
prison of my own making
nothing else seemed ok
Can I cash it in?
just for one night
die- have no regrets
see what the other side
has to offer.
Well hello there Death
What have you to offer?
a smooth comfortable ride
or a walk on the wild side
where we going first?
I’ve never seen someone
die before-
It’s always been-
one second you’re here, the next
no one’s home
time can’t be turned back-
be easy if you could-
do so many things over
til you got them right
Where we going next friend
to revisit old forgotten memories
better left alone?
Keep knocking on the devil’s door
long enough, eventually he’s
gonna answer you
can you handle that?
Regrets had
decisions made
roads taken-
or not
what was it for?
Sunday morning
Wet asphalt
Lazy dog
Sleepy cat
Moisture in the air
Thick and heavy
Cloudy
No sunlight today
Nothing to hear
Everything is quiet
Let them deny painfully
Where their belly fell
Let them run hastily
To where we can’t tell
They are like rain beaten birds
of the forest
O’
Why not tie a bond
And plan to re-make
the smelling pond?
I’m voicing the reality now
Listen,
This is my homeland
I stand to be a native
The indigenous lover
of my land and culture
May I wear not
The visitor’s shoe
Even if
I walk bare footed
For I keep the strength
in dignified forefathers
How hot
the gravels may be
I still seize not
to be a member
of my homeland