24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
I can’t even say
That I wish I had said yes
Because my life
Even though
It was a mess
It was a series of tests
That otherwise
Might have caused more distress
And I learned
What I needed to learn
And I firmly believe
That Gods plan is impeccable
And right in time.
Rebelí
POEM 15
If only I had known, but who can discern the future, who can know the right answer?
I was poised on the brink of my dream. I dipped deep into its well and was afraid to take a drink, even a sip.
I perceived my thirst to be false, misleading me into a spiritual void. I robbed myself, I betrayed my own trust.
If only I could go back and shirk this wretched caution telling me lies, making up tales.
You can’t go back; you can’t decide to take the chance, to join the crowd.
I was ungrateful for that wondrous chance.
For what is gratitude but a cool crystal stream to dip yourself, to immerse yourself in
it’s baptismal waters of thankfulness. I fear I have aged out of the opportunity.
Once no slips past your lips it lingers in the air taunting your stupid choice laughing like a clown.
You can’t go back again, you can’t savor that sweet choice again. There will be other doors, other trains to take from here.
Or will there be? Time only knows–time only tells.
I had the chance,
and I blew it.
Everybody knew it.
Oh, but he was handsome!
Curvaceous arms sweeping forward
as he reached the golden lager
on the bar next to me.
Our eyes met, and he,
perplexed by my gaze
jostled a bit of a spill
to wet my breasts.
“It’s ok. I’m fine.” I laughed,
as his ears turned all shades
of red, and his smile turned
all shades of lust.
“David Bradley, U.S. Forest Ranger.”
I pointed at the periwinkle pin
still on his green button shirt –
the one hiding a sure six pack.
“And you are…?” he smiled.
“Emily,” I almost whispered,
breathless, heart pounding
as if teetering near the window
of a Chicago skyscraper.
“Mmm, sourdough!” he gushed.
“I’m sorry?” leaning closer,
“What’s sourdough
but second hand yeast?”
and thoughts of the song.
“I love sourdough!”
He whispered across me,
into a cloud of sliced bread.
A generous pub keeps drunks fed
on more than needle thin pretzels.
“What the hell are gumboots?” he asked.
A beat, then two or three,
as I wondered of his sanity,
and if his musculature was
worth another crazy dude vanity.
“Over there on that storefront,” he pointed at the window.
Sure enough, a sign spread diagonally
advertised “Gumboots lessons! Half off!
This week only!” It was a dance hall.
“Looks interesting,” I replied, wanting to faint.
If I could go back in time
I would say “no” to you
And who you told me I was
When I was starved
Like an infant left
With hungry skin.
I would say “yes”
to myself more often.
I would rewrite
The voices you left
in my head
who informed me
that I was wrong
I would rewrite
the voices that said
I didn’t deserve
a pleasurable life
and the parts of my heart
that believed it.
If I could go back in time
I would ask you:
Why you thought
it was ever ok
to call me that
and who, at some point,
had done the same
to you?
Image Prompt
Liminal deity of gates and doors;
what are you keeping so safely as yours?
If I say yes, to discover your truth,
will I be happy to enter your booth?
Will I regret the decisions I make?
Will, there be gentler roads I can take?
Liminal deity, give me a peak.
So, I can know if it’s elsewhere I seek.
Widow rules are fluid
Three years they say
A corner to be turned
Still wearing the rings
Twirling on and off
Almost everyday
Clothes are gone
Papers are sorted
His boots rest in the barn
Almost out of sight
With pictures helping
Our one-way conversations
I can’t do the rings
Like a dead dog I will
Miss them all the time
I chance being out of the game
Unavailable should someone
Try to love me again
Weighing the risk cost
Not choosing to be unmarried
I keep them where they belong
Never in my wildest dreams would have thought
Thoughts that speaks sentiment and pain
Pain that swim in sorrow and death
Death that stings unrelenting digging deep
Deep to the core the centre of the soul
Soul that’s void vacuum housing the bridge
Bridge that connects the body and mind
Mind that houses the thoughts of my wildest dream
Dreams that are very big and greater than myself
Myself by saying inflated with travails and grudges
Grudges which hold onto the past was that only prevents the revealing of the future
Future it seems fake but transparent
Transparent with the beaming lights
Lights from the throne of the Father
Father, abba father you taught me well
Well to the height of saying never
Never in my wildest dreams would have thought that speaks sentiments and pain
Light borne of darkness –
a force beyond mere knowing:
Stepping in and through.
Midnight.
Velvety leaves.
Tips over wine pots, and
Springhill time in falls.
Homes are build on top of hills.
Life, love, and laughters.
A passion we hold,
Another purpose.
Another magical vision.
A mission,
Thats ties together.
To you, and me.