24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
POEM 13
A sky so ominous with nimbostratus puffs, heavy with dark beauty. Like a scene from another world.
Stratocumulus Clouds like angry geese flapping their wings and thundering with the setting sun.
Then a rainbow arching over the mountain scape, a multicolored dome catching up gilded light, promising a reprieve.
The rains have ended leaving a meadow green and lush with wild flowers painted pastel and pristine beneath the orange tinged chaos dissipating overhead.
.
Skyscrapers silhouette against the periwinkle sky
clouds spread softness
as bird wings beat the air
in an attempt
to fly in a cloud of happiness.
Death seems satisfying
It’s there for you when you need it
It is a circulating vulture
Slow travel is the way we hope to go
Of Old age or in our sleep
as if we have free previews
or a taste of death tour
without leaving home
Ordering from a menu
reasoning our stay
death does not negotiate
Its destination is anywhere
“People are bloody ignorant apes” – Gogo
A cold, empty, lifeless, impersonal machine
that was nevertheless like a man
Flashed advertisements from its stainless steal face,
offering affordable death plans
The plans were as follows:
(A succinct and comprehensible list)
1) Full-body cancer
2) Marriage and mortgage
3) A swift slice to both of the wrists
I considered my options:
“Total-cancer should offer insight into the human condition
but the process is gaudy- radiation, chemo-
I’m not here to put on a show.
Method two is intriguing, full of ambition,
A wife and a house sound like a slow way to go,
the benefits are clear, it’s hard to say no,
but I fear responsibilities may distract from my deathly mission.
Slit wrists, eh? I get kind of fainty around blood…”
I stood there weighing my options
As I pondered the edge of the knife
I scarcely noticed that an eternity had passed
I had been cursed with eternal life.
I see you standing outside my door.
Thinking it’s me you’re here for.
You stand there with brochure in hand.
But I’m not buying that piece of land.
Keep on walking right down the street.
It’s not time for us to meet.
White-veined blue petals, a loving heart,
Is this nature, or is it art?
Flower pressed inside a book
Evokes a loving look–
Of a love that’s lost
Of years long past
Was it you
Who wore
Blue?
Beautiful swan floating gracefully by
Dancing softly like the winds of spring
Your joy and your candor, incredibly spry
The weight of the world on your wing
You pass by with ease and no cares in the sight
So strong in your humility
For though you are tired, your heart takes to flight
To unburden fragility
Beautiful swan swimming ‘neath the night sky
Enlightened by the strawberry moon
You never let a moment’s grace pass you by
For you know that all things could end soon
Life’s few guarantees and so many regrets
Could leave your heart bitter and cold
But instead you push onward, the safest of bets
Because you’re both brave and bold
Beautiful swan I admire you so
I long for your quaint dignity
Your remarkable prowess through each ebb and flow
Shall ever speak volumes to me
I long to be like you, more agile and free
Passing by with no cares to be seen
For maybe one day, more like you, I will be
More poised, hopeful and serene
Text Prompt
You find a time capsule buried in the backyard of your new home (or anywhere else, depends on you). What’s in it? How old is it or its probable story is up to the poet.
Contributed by Bhasha Dwivedi.
Strange Discovery
Earth preserves unique treasures in its bosom
gold silver jewels, precious stones and bones
the box we found in the back yard of the new house
was strange,as it was not locked nor full of stones
Opening was easy as weight was light, dusty on sight
it contained a paper, rumpled but legible, white and light
a mysterious map of a mysterious kind ,of unique might
a reflection of the greatest part of physical delight
map of the mind it was
a magnifying glass
an audio cassette
a small prayer book
and a note of thanks
addressed to the universe
all the objects were familiar
except the map
hundreds of years old
except for the cassette
and prayers were bold
strangely the language had
two versions, made me sad
when I was able to read the prayer
all was well, and I was glad.
I know we go way back
to the days of the Tim’s
and Richie and Gary and Monte
and what you deem your finest hour…
Paul
but I have some things to say to you…
It’s been many years ago now
since you brought into my office
two new babies in one season,
and convinced two little grandma’s
to come to you all on their own.
I never told you
but these are the reasons
you and I rarely speak these days
although there was your nasty bit
with Dad five years ago,
and then Greg and Mom just two months past now.
I have to tell you
I don’t have the stomach anymore
to handle the casualties of your folly
the inevitability of you
the inescapable commitment
in our relationship.
It’s time you keep your distance for a while.
This must have been
in the fine print somewhere
but I missed it.
Rather tricky of you
to send Birth in with the contract.
Rather tricky…
The ground floor of the skyscraper is
thrown into confusion as
a cloud of cacophony descends on
a gathering cloud of men in
sleek suit and silk tie, all
spread around in different directions,
piercing the serenity of the corporate street.
They needle their way to a spot where
an older woman and a younger woman sit,
dishing stuff into the waiting hands of
these men that beat themselves to get their share.
The fuming CEO of the skyscraper, perplexed
by the noise, comes down,
bent on clearing the human mess, and
then he too falls into the trap of the mad crowd.
They all have to scramble for
the periwinkle soup from
the makeshift storefront.
Written from the text prompt of Hour 11.