Hour Twenty Inspiration= “Cluster One” Pink Floyd 5:43 Hot are the rivers running through scaled eyes blinded by the serpentine motivations and macabre machinations of the world of today every day lacking the promise of tomorrow. Lord, hear our prayers as we silently wilt our…
Tag: 24 hour poetry marathon
Homecoming – Hour Twenty-One
Homecoming As angelic lights summon me home I am welcomed by those that I love No more am I destined to roam While my solace comes from above I am welcomed by those that I love Their warmth brings incredible ease While my solace comes…
Destination Unknown – Hour Twenty
Destination Unknown I hopped in the car, destination unknown I had no direction in view I took off in the morning, for a break from the chaos But where I was headed, no clue Many choices before me – Air, land or sea And whether…
Prompt Twenty – Dugga Dugga
Hour Twenty – Text Prompt: Write a poem about a routine or ritual that is part of your life. It can be something like making coffee every morning, or something like attending religious services once a week. Dugga Dugga Not sure how or…
Hold My Hand
Hour Nineteen 3:45 Dizdain Form Will you hold my hand as time passes on, or will you let go and lead me to fall? Will you remain with me in breaking dawn, or will you balk and lead me to nightfall? Will you love above…
Mortar and Pestle
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…
Storm – Hour Nineteen
Storm Salty air blows around in circles The breeze picks up seaweed from sand The current reacts to the gusts By crashing to the shore Seafoam swirls the rocks Shells dig in deep Safe from harm Black clouds Storm
Hour Nineteen – Of Scottish Summers
Hour Nineteen – Text prompt Write a poem describing your surroundings as inarticulately as possible but maintaining just a tiny bit of the truth. Of Scottish Summers If you live in Glasgow and look out of the window, You’d see all that is to…
Lord of the Flyswatter
Hour Seventeen I am convinced flies have genetic memory to the swatter- dashing through the air landing upon naked skin crawling a constant hum of buzzing afflicting my quiet. I pick up the swatter and the nerve-grinding melody ceases. I scan the room and cajole…
Lord of The Flyswatter
Hour Seventeen I am convinced flies have genetic memory to the swatter- dashing through the air landing upon naked skin crawling a constant hum of buzzing afflicting my quiet. I pick up the swatter and the nerve-grinding melody ceases. I scan the room and cajole…