24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Congratulations
on completing your fifty second Parkrun
and your first at Falkirk
you were the eightieth female
in a field of two hundred and eight
and sixth in your age category.
Your time was
thirty nine minutes and eighteen seconds
You achieved an age score
of forty nine point three six per cent.
Your NENDY is Knowsley.
Dopamine is addictive,
and so is joy.
Is this your personal best?
Author: ©️Jane Eckford
3rd September 2023
Gates and casements
confront us eternally
Choice is yours alone
*Inspired by the image prompt
Within the depths of darkness, they strive to live to tell a story,
Coal miners dwellers, in which they are shadows on that mine
They warfare the earth, its secrets and techniques they delve,
in search of black diamonds, their memories they notify it
Their courage and electricity, a beacon of light,
As they toil in silence, through day and through nighttime.
Underneath rocks, they’re carving their beautiful dreams
in the heart of the mine, in which they are gleam diamonds
Every day faces complication, with every passing hours
But their spirit endures, they believe their labor
Even in the depths of the earth, where existence’s so intense,
Coal miners, unsung heroes, never step back like a soldier
With every swing of the pickaxe, each bead of sweat shed,
They combat to stay alive,, to earn day by day bread.
Within the heart of the mine, their turmoil no one can understand
Coal miners persist, of their will to survive.
Sometimes the mine swallows their breaths with their dreams
Even though, they never frighten with incidents,
they brawl in, they become roaring voices to lit other’s future.
Prompt -19
Hour-19
Made of glass and metal
Hazard in every tube
Wood and fabric monsters
M&Ms and juice
Eaten by the fistful
Empty trash remain
A wild dino dinner
Plated on a plane
Plateau of terracotta
Cubonic and yet flat
And past trees pressed carefully
In page in high demand
Looking at my forearm under the desk lamp,
I see an indention previously unnoticed.
Can I now have a fortuneteller read my arm
for signs of my destiny?
It may have been the trick of the light,
inducing me to think my vein had become
a roadmap to palm readers.
Looking again, I wonder what
I think I saw.
Will this stubborn awareness
coupled with sudden self-diagnosing
become more pronounced
as I age?
A little nap
and time runs away
Can’t hold it back
Can’t call it back
Just watch it fly away
Softened corners.
Warm layers.
Vibrations of a living fuzz creature.
Collected thoughts.
Could it be I know where I am?
The room is a blur
my thoughts are a-stir
the lizards are monsters
their cages mid-whir.
Coffee, poetry mix
doing lots of cool tricks
words jumping off pages
into canine cages.
The dogs are loose, too
this place is a zoo
my dwarf frogs grow big
like fat little pigs.
My green shamrock tree
stuck in March will it be
till December, you see
I missed holidays three.
My coffee is gone
poems, now strong
not inarticulately
pets now asleep
I write just for me.
– Sandra Johnson, 9-3-2023
As the rain ran to the ground,
Everyone ran to cover by all means
She stayed in a secluded resort,
far away from my respite.
She was a viable queen raised by a late prince.
But she didn’t license her name to my earpiece.
Here she came –
The expression on her face
To me, wasn’t as cold as ice.
To the heart with guilt, she was pierced.
As a stranger, I’ve only met her once or twice.
I’m sorry to myself.
I miscalculated the timing of her emergence.
