24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
An amicable life fulfilled with hap,
They could lead a charmed life,
With infinity felicity.
You may get a destiny,
Or maybe a surprise power,
To lead a amicable life.
To win it we should be,
Adorable with everyone,
To be kind pleasant.
To lead an amicable life,
Agree the collusion of the god,
Which contains his wishes,
With the name of the god,the most merciful.
I can’t wait to feel the sand
under my tired, but reliable feet!
I want to play with the waves,
feel sun and water on my skin.
Seaside is so appealing, even more
than a famous mountain resort.
I like the idea of height, but I like
even more relaxing in warm water!
Listening
Just be still and listen and then tell me what you hear
Is the quiet all but deafening? Does it make you shed a tear?
Does the silence bring you anger, for you need chaos throughout
Or does it bring you worry, filling up your head with doubt
When I am still and listen, I can hear the keyboard click
I can see the blinds there dancing and hear the clock’s soft tick
The little sounds oft silent in our daily happenings
I guess, a good reminder, to stop and greet the little things
Our lives are often busy, much too busy to embrace
The simple things like lights on printers or a stranger’s smiling face
The things we all admire when we stop to take the time
Like the crackling of the fire or the grooves around a dime
When we stop and use our senses, counting each now – one by one
We are forced to pause a moment and embrace what we’ve begun
By listening, we’re hearing; by seeing, we delight
In the glory that’s before us that we feel with all our might
We can touch the leaves below us, crackling upon the ground
We can smell the rain around us, finding peace within its sound
We can taste the joy of coffee to awaken us at dawn
With all our senses at the ready, we tackle the world head on
But only if we listen and be still, so we can hear
All the sounds that are around us and what everyone brings near
Could be joy filled or just painful, elation or remorse
But regardless, there’s a lesson if we choose to stay the course
A wee hour caught my eye
as I pondered late over x and y.
Time for bed, I guess…
this place! What a mess!
I closed the busy coding screen
unaware outside, the strangest scene.
A lone campfire in fire season.
The man inside for some odd reason.
Asleep, or drunk, or didn’t care,
perhaps stupidly unaware
that sparks fly sometimes high
into dry trees… then I heard its cry.
There at the edge of the scene
beyond the trail light’s beam
a howl, neither dog nor cat.
Then, coyotes calling back.
Another hoot never heard before
except perhaps in Sasquatch lore.
It barked, then waited, one, two, three
and barked again. Was it hunting me?
I left the fire and locked the door,
after which I heard no more.
When daylight came, I went to look,
And there it was… the biggest foot!
What do you do with all the mistakes?
Paint pours that didn’t turn
out the way you wanted:
do you scrape the canvas,
wipe it clean, refreshed
for another try, blank,
or do you leave paint smeared
still, untouched and kept, showing
how you were, where you’ve been,
a glimpse of who you’ll be?
Succulent, elastic on the tongue
Toast the bread and adorn with cheese
Stand back, say cheese, blow a kiss
And wet your tongue by one sight
I am scattered and distraught piles of books not yet read
Stacked like good intentions never fully realised
But the thought at least counts even if the human doesn’t keep scores
And sometimes I wonder if it’s worth fighting for
Stories that are yet to be explored, a ship kept ashore
Closed tales waiting to be shucked, yarns yet to be spun
Waiting to be cracked open and woven into a tapestry of wonderment
Brilliant in its construction; I am the potential within
The stirred depths of unfathomable darkness, the murky water
Struggling to find my own clarity by sifting sands of time
Through sinew-strand joined skin hung on bone, a meat vessel
Formed of chaos and the sublime with a side of lime and rhyme
I am the infinite moment of golden hour condense into a funky,
If chunky, character, sharing care factors with friends
In France it’s called a light fromage
Yet for the cameras it’s Marmoset
In a pot it melts to a special sauce
And then it becomes a thick fondue
Mexico uses lots of Queso
Upon hot chips it can be found
Jalapeño’s dipped into ranchero
Taste much, much better splashed with Queso
The Germans they have got the touch
For Hartkäse and Schnittkäse
But my favorite shining star
Is Hartkäse from Württemberg
Turn the corner and you will see
A cheese with holes from a Swiss factory
Baby Swiss is great it’s true
Yet Emmental is all the rage
And so at last it comes to pass
That yellow cheese is made by Kraft
Not aged, nor sharp nor holes a one
But in the USA it beats them all
I met a man this evening,
With motive and mysteries,
There seems nothing missing,
He was blunt and silently speaking.
It seems all right,
I stayed for a while,
Looking at his eyes,
Listened to his low voice.
Suddenly where is he ?
I haven’t moved at all,
Was it a dream,
Or I am dead like my dream.
(Source : remix poem from chapter 5 from the book ‘The Murder of Roger Ackroyd’
Right to the keys
Never amiss
Head on it is
Glimpse me please
Leaps and jumps
Forever straight
Head on it is
Copyright © 2021 Roxann Lawrence (Poetessrock)