24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
The nonet of new beginnings
Where is love? Where is the magic of paradise?
Lost your nest and your balance? Don’t despair!
Just get ready to move on! Why?
Life is tough, waiting for nobody.
Next step? Looking for happiness!
But when and how?
Here and now!
Last advice?
Dare!
an eye in one language is an ear in another
Skyscrapers seen through binoculars transform into the cloud of sounds of people working, of machines clicking
The storefront no longer a waiting space in rainy days, instead waves of footsteps drown the entrance
Big black gumboots waddle through the muddy waters, leaving no trace of the slimy sexy skin of the boots
Beyond the difference stands a needle thick eloquence of apathy that streams in our windows – all eyes and ears wide open
At this half mark, my muses beg me
for respite; I drag them into
my web, forcing another
verse, with endless torment:
craft me similes,
make metaphors,
for this scop —
just one
more
I hear a call in the distance clear
as day, I swear it’s calling my
name from beneath the wat’ry
depths it beckons, “Come here.”
Unclear what to do,
I look to you,
your “safety”
keeps me
dry.
I envision the infinite blue skies surrounding us
but they were slowly fading into the mountain’s sunset haze.
The winds they whispered and whinnied through the trees.
The spirits of air, whistling with wild will: yet woeful in the days waning.
The winnowing light wilted the wind’s temperaments, you see
.
For night was coming:
Stillness was demanded by natures’ stern command.
It was soon to be owl time.
Together, we sat: gazing at the infinite abyss
as it consumed azure firmament.
We joined hands.
And for a time, we stood witness to the power of the night.
Nature is calling us to act now
The earth will go on without us
It has many paths to evolve
We have very few options
Do we have the will
To change our ways
renewal
or face
Death
A Sedoka
Uncharted
An ancient Codex
Lost deep in uncharted lands
holding the fate of the world.
My favorite books
Contain mysterious worlds.
Indiana Jones I’m not.
Old age ravishes the young who think
they will never be alone or
frail in bodily functions
or trembling, cracked with
mind bright making the
heart more wanting,
desperate
for a
friend.
Hour 12
How could I be so ridiculous
To think that life is so damn bad
No where is it etched in stone
That life is made of gold
It can be cold
But I know
It’s good
Though.
Rebelí
A childhood dream to reside by the nature’s realm,
Scrapping skyscraper’s world, where nature’s not seen…
Needling people chasing material beauty,
Forgetting natural responsibility towards conversational duty…
Saluting the work that a forest ranger does,
Beating all the odds even the gumboots does he dons…
Protecting the nature in at least spreading the green,
Amidst also grows flowers of various colors and periwinkle too seen…
Even creating a cushion for clouds to dwell,
Unlike the skyscraper’s that just tear them to hell…