24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
In moments.
Transient or stretched lives.
Solicited or unsolicited drives.
Flashes from the deep.
Sparks from the shallow.
Into varied spaces.
Recorded by mortals.
Through spirited transformations.
Into forms.
Into worlds.
All parties step on it.
Light.
And.
Heavy.
They ascend.
Death prowls still.
Bemoaned or celebrated.
Yet, living with us.
Written from the text prompt of Hour 13.
The lion heart giving you niceness
The Lion heart giving you happiness
The lion heart is teaching you greatness
The lion heart is establishing peace
The Lion heart is the best
Copyright © 2021 Roxann Lawrence (Poetessrock)
Being observed, by one eye or a billion
confers the same feeling-
the mingling opposites of paranoia and power,
of being compelled to behave
and to make a show of rebellion,
of being admired and judged.
and humiliated.
Observing is not much different,
just a change in perspective,
and perhaps- a sense of selling
instead of being sold to
or is it the other way around?
(for hour 14—imaginary children prompt for Onweald)
Sinder, Rohf, and Cahla
They play so well together
A trio
Held together by a triangle of connection
Sinder, the adopted dragon child, the oldest and least coordinated for a household with so many walls and tables
Rohf, the new heir to Hleo-Arcana, and dragon child of a goddess
Cahla, full-blood sibling to Rohf yet to show signs of dragon shifting, praise the gods in Mahriket
To see them play as if knocking loose a scale was as normal as scraping a knee brought a joy that reminded Loetha of all she’d lost
And all she’d gained here
And all she could still laugh at when a pair of dragons fashions a cradle-vest to help their youngest sister “fly” through the halls of the emperor’s home…
They fell in love.
As with all good fiction
they fell in love at first sight.
It was the purest love with all the
vengeance and spite hell could muster.
A love of hate and wrath and evil deeds;
but boundless, indescribable love nonetheless.
Each time they saw one another
their love blossomed like foxglove
at the edge of a ditch where deer won’t feed.
And, with each passing moment,
their passion grew into
visceral rage
so unfathomably large it knocked Satan’s
worst cherubim to earth.
It grew and grew.
It blossomed!
It seeded the earth with millions of
hate filled thoughts and wicked wishes
for the other at every turn of the
tickling hands of fate.
Until one day they had to speak
a thought or two about some
innocuous topic of mutual vehemence,
leading to that one thing he swore he could
never do with her of all people on earth!
They kissed!
They made up!
They made up together in one grand, passionate scene
described in such a lascivious manner that any
good Christian might soon wander into the nearest pub
in search of a devil!
I started west coast 9 am, but cranked all day to produce some heartfelt words and images. What a high to finish! Thanks for the challenge and congrats to my fellow poets!
By the way — aren’t we lucky to have spouses, family and friends who support our indulgence?
Kathy
You were the child I never had
We connected as you made me sick
You were small, but I felt you
You were athletic
I knew when you were gone
By the internal quiet I felt
The ultrasound confirmed
What I already knew
I never gave birth to you
I never had to feed or clothe you
I imagine how you would look
How you would act
What trouble we would have.
You would nineteen now
You would be the college student
Not me
You would be growing into adulthood
You would be falling in and out of love
You would be finding your way in the world
And I would be learning to let you go.
We never got that chance
For nine weeks you were real
For 19 years you are imaginary
I think about you often
I think about what should have been, could have been
I wonder where I went wrong
I was unable to be a parent
You were unable to be my child
Maybe you watch over me
Maybe we will meet one day
Maybe our souls are still entwined
Take my hand
Little one
Let’s walk along the shore
Let’s play with the seashells
Let’s play in the sand
Make a castle; make believe
Whatever you please
Take my hand
Little one
Let’s create just a few moments
Let’s not let go of being free
Let’s remember how to have fun
Just spending time in the sun
With someone you love.
He delights in wild roses
inhaling their fragrance,
feeling the petals
pass through his fingers
as they fall.
She get’s distracted by it, and has trouble paying attention to the real news.
The manifesto from the screens, dissolving resolutions
Entertainment breaking the then news
Jostling, packing, and filling the spaces — pop-up ads for the mind
As they all are.
Click here, here, here, here, and here.
Thank you for your ethos . . . . . . . .
the dotted line, signed away
every morning with a swipe.
___________________________________________________
this was Prompt #4 – Grab a book from your shelf. Read the last line in it. You have to use that line as the first or last line of your poem (with credit).
The first line of this poem was borrowed from Margaret Attwood’s short story, “Hack Wednesday”. It ends the short story collection Wilderness Tips.