24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Snatched (Poem 18
The raven’s eye looked terrified
It was in shock as the companion flew away
The flying stroke as if conveying to the onlooking bird
What I deserve
I must get
I’ve worked hard to earn it
And if someone tries to take it away from me
I’ll snatch it right away !
In response to image prompt number 18
Realized I probably should’ve been noting when I don’t us the prompt for the hour… oh well
Hour 11
Every seven years I have a new body
All my cells have changed
And yet I feel the same
I wonder how many years it takes
For my soul to change
For my spirit to find new beliefs
To think in new shades
How many years do I wait
There is no other
objective but clarity
No other. None. None
*Inspired by the text prompt
A harbor with no ice? Is true!
What fishing boats supposed to do?
And residents with dying fridge
without the cubes we wish to bridge
across the waters of our thirst
our patience true about burst
we make our way and simply pay
we buy bag ice da kine Safeway
My mother is almost certainly a corvid.
If you look at the signs, I am sure it’s in her,
Right down to the genus and species.
See, she’s:
Smart as a tack,
She can solve complex problems without ever skipping a beat,
She’s got a very long memory,
And it goes back,
As far as any eye can see.
She’s cunning,
A survivor through and through,
She wears all black,
And has talent for planning creatively.
She loves to play,
And she thrives in the rain.
Keeps her beloved, tight family,
Close to her home-base tree.
LET’S APPRECIATE BEAUTIFUL YET DIFFERENT CREATIONS OF GOD
In the hallways of your school,
You may see a child who seems different
She may be the girl who always sits alone
Or the boy who never talks to anyone
Or a child who just cannot stop laughing or crying
They look different from you-
They are a little bit different than you
They are just referred as Children with special needs
They are the ones who are never allowed to play
They are the ones who are never chosen first
They are the ones who are often stopped by a stranger in the street and asked
“What’s wrong with you?”
They are the ones who get told they are not normal and should stop disturbing others
They have parents who love them, but are constantly worried
About how their kids will survive after they grow old
These kids must deal with bullies at school
These kids must bear nasty words of some of their relatives
They go through so much of pain, but they still expect the best from all of us
They are quick to smile and slow to judge
They have no malice or politics to play against each other
You, special children are beautiful beings to teach us something new
Even if the world laughs at you and blind to your talents
You are often misunderstood, underestimated, and ridiculed
One day the world will realise, what they lost when they pushed you aside
BY
SHREYA SURAJ,
Back against the world
Facing a towering wall
Resurgence alive
*Inspired by the image prompt
We saw each other.
Warm feelings.
Hobbied excitement.
Going places.
Hang out with plans that never happen.
Enjoying each other with the presence.
Hour Eighteen 3993
Sun-stroked gardens
season stained carpets
of variegated color-
the clean scent of greenery
and herbs a pleasant arousal
to the senses.
The Chickweeds gather in droves
clucking away with banter
cleaving to the Cleavers
until Evening Primrose.
Goats Rue the interruption
while nursing their young
as Honeysuckles at their teat.
Jack the preacher In The Pulpit
wears a Scullcap complimenting
an Old Man’s Beard and
bearing Solomon’s Seal
from St. John’s Wort
chastising the Lyre Leaf Sage
for the Sassafras to their Motherwort
who then threatens to wash
their mouths with Soapwort,
a custom in Sweet Ciscily.
The Trillium trinity
a blessed purity
and Speedwell
the ailments to healing.
He sewed his thumb back on in the woods
with some fishing line
I have broken my arm twice
and each time I sucked in a lot of air and teared up
waiting in a clean hospital ER for a bed
going like this:
oooh-ahhhh-ooooh-ahhhh
and been a bitch otherwise my entire life
when he tells me about them boys at work
running the machines into the ground
I go along with him
and say, you can’t find anybody worth a durn
and he agrees with a grunt
then tells me about being shot at by union men
that wanted the job he and his father took
because it was their state
and his father almost ran them over with a truck
and he tells me that he once went
to a martial arts gym and the black belt instructor
couldn’t do anything to keep him down
one time a guy picked him up in the air
with a lift and shook it so he might fall
much to the laughs of the other men
and he put vice grips around this man’s chest
and squeezed on them until ribs were broken
after he finally let him down
and I nodded and grunted and yessir’d my way
up until my girlfriend’s mom asked me
what tool he’s referring to when he talks about
fixing this thing on the cherry pickers they broke
I stutter for a second and then turn to look at her
now joined by my girlfriend
grinning like hungry wolves.