24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
My mum always told me
that I had a beautiful smile.
I never believed her
didn’t see it, not at all
but it came in abundance
when I was with her.
It has faded
over time
like her memories
lips set in stone,
harsh, unyielding.
‘You should smile more’
I am now often told
but all that remains is
a shadow
of what she once saw.
This hot summer’s day,
These daffodils I sketch,
True to life initially,
Every petal captured with fidelity.
It is tiresome,
This attention to detail.
Shall I not interpret it,
My own inimitable way?
I look away from these sunny blooms,
And my labours begin anew.
Letting my myriad emotions,
Take ahold of mine.
Creating what I feel,
I look again, with fresh eyes.
I do not recognise what I have done.
It is my state of mind.
© 2021 S Phua
“Death doesn’t have to be scary,”
she said, squeezing
the old man’s hand,
wiping his brow.
“Just think of it like a rest stop
on the road to
your permanent
Heavenly home.”
His eyes blinked shut, his chest collapsed.
His heart flatlined.
But his smile just
kept on growing.
(A minute poem is composed of 60 syllables split between three stanzas. The four lines of each stanza should have a syllable count of 8/4/4/4. Traditional minute poems are written in iambic pentameter using the rhyme scheme of aabb, ccdd, eeff. This was way too difficult for me to compose in just 60 minutes, so I improvised by eliminating both the rhyme and meter requirements, resulting in my “nontraditional” knockoff version above.)
Poet with two nationalities
Two lands in my heart
Two families to long for
Caring mother
Crawled Catholic
Devoted to my faith
Honored to my parents
Honest to commitments
Hard working teacher
Passion for justice
Promote unity
Long for peace
@Maritza – Hour Nineteen
I haven’t changed much in all this life
holding firm to who I knew I could be within the confines of disparate contrast
no I didn’t care then and I don’t care now
what they want me to be not what they think I am
yet somewhere in the mix it feels good to be seen
felt
and cherished
worship is a slippery slope and I have watched too many kneel adult the feet of false idols to be wowed by the glitter
consider me
consider how it feels to be so completely you that the fucks you give left before I got here
what does my opinion matter anyway?
I’ll keep holding this line and walking nimbly as I can
although I’ve been stumbling along the brambles never knowing the scorched pathways
How did I get here?
When they bowed their heads in fear of being found out…
i kept talking
when they closed their eyes to ignore what I showed them…
I held it closer
when my tears were too salty…
I let them flow faster
it feels good to quench stale old fears and cleanse long tender wounds with more than a few tears—let them drop when they well up, she said
let
them
fall…
and I’ll keep saying it
There’s laughter on the other side
Repeating your questions
will not give you the proof
you think the past deems,
but you continue to pace
the treads you’ve already walked.
There’s a smell, in fact an aroma, that intoxicates me
A human scent, of a BO-laced meat vessel, ripe
But delightful in its pungent revelry,
Sometimes 6 days unshowered, sometimes after a single session
Of activity and dynamic motion, but unforgettable
The sour sharpness reminding me I’m still alive
That I’m still here, and so are you, visceral
In our humanity, connecting with something deeper
Like the smell of flesh to fire in a bar-bee-queue, or smoke,
An archaic comfort in the delight of primal humanity
Of a time when we relied on our noses more,
And socially constructed chaos less, natural
Sometimes I want to feel this in my nostrils when beside you,
Saturating olfactory faculties with nature and breath
Embracing you with my nostrils as with my arms
Eyes closed knowing I’m home
Stars are sick
Their light fades
My soul degenerates
How quick light sleeps
Moon is so thick
My heart is weak
Loneliness has win today
Reality has been proven a play
similar to Much Ado About Nothing
