Emily (foresthouse) wrote,

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Words: The Revival (24 Poems in 24 Hours)

Thanks to all who played my little game and suggested a word. Here is your reward.

...Er...perhaps "reward" is not the right word. Um.

24 Poems in 24 Hours



I'd like to answer
with equations and charts;
but the whole world's dissolving -
it's falling apart.
The trees have been failing;
those that aren't cut short.
The oceans are changing;
seas engulf the ports.
It's not that I'm victim
to panic and fear,
but the snow's disappearing;
We don't need a seer
To tell us the hurricanes
tsunamis and quakes
are getting more frequent;
What more does it take?

Perhaps on this day
when we think of the Earth
We can try to conserve;
plant a seed for new birth.
Whatever we do, let's remember this fact:
Once the planet's destroyed, there's no going back.



that one
piece         that
doesn't quite fit.
I think we'd get along.



The boring olive
Has been replaced. Happy day!
Kumquat martini.



The times, they are indeed,
although upon reflecting back
you might perhaps just wish
that they were not.

You think you've calculated
the angle of your jump
And then you land and break your leg.
Reality f'n bites, you know.

Hey Fate, hey Luck, hey all ye gods
who wrap our strings around your fists,
I have just this to say to you:
May you find what you are looking for.



Drizzled, dripped; dropped!
Oops! The five-second rule
was made for chocolate,
for who can resist
those melting molecules;
the tip of the tongue
encased in sweetness?
I shake my head as she
pops the nonpareil into her open mouth,
but I cannot blame her;
I would likely do the same.



Squiggly was an inchworm;
I found him in a tree.
Oh! Adventures we did have,
My squiggly worm and me.
We quested through the daffodils
And sailed the grassy sea
Of my backyard
Jean-Luc Picard
Had nothing on Squiggly.

He lived inside a soapdish
I brought him grass and leaves;
But sad to say
He passed away
And now the whole yard grieves.



We never liked him
anyway. It's only fair -
He killed a puppy!






--she says, her eyes concerned above her surgical mask.
She listens, head cocked slightly, brow furrowed, as I comply.

Shall I tell her not to spend her anxiety on me?
That amidst the blood and hunger I do not worry;
that I know God approaches soon, in all his splendor?
Not in the critical eye fixed upon my crooked hem,
Not garbed in the brown smocks we wear day-in-day-out,
Not walking the halls of sanctimonious charity,
Not slumbering in the long lonely rooms of unwanted bodies,
Not echoing cries of Silence and Order.


He comes in clouds of mist and fire,
in festoons of twisted vines spilling flowers down their stems;
bringing recollection and anticipation in a horn of crystal,
gathering the threads of my faith into a garment of light.
The hour approaches when I shall see my father
striding forward with joy in his eye,
my new-minted raiment draped across arms
which will enfold me once I am enrobed.

She sees my Death, all reddened gauze, all gaunt and ghastly;
She will not see that when I go, I go in peace.



Like tiny frozen
drops of dew on ragged leaves
shatter on the ground.



He creeps through twilight
Eyes alert, sniffing the air
Edward seeks Bella.



OK, now you're just fucking with me.



There once was a sasquatch from Yemen
Who ate only confit and lemons
He went to the store
Which, alas, had no more
So he packed up and moved off to Bremen.

missmp / nsfinch


A clap of smoke; doves wing away,
Hands thrown wide in flourishes of
flashing rings, whirls of silk,
flowers tossed to watchful wonderers.

In the corner on the steps a bent and bristled man
watches, fingers deftly weaving
in and out, coins flipped from point to point;
disappeared and reappeared on autopilot.

The cheers for the young apprentice, bowing,
black-tied and full of life
reach him in the wing, call up the years gone by,
bring forth a tiny smile to his wizened lips.



It's not
    that I think
  I've lost
          my way.

It's just
    that I'm
        a little


<3 Deadpool <3

The wack guys wear red-an-black, remember that
Just in case I ever lob grenades into yer hat
The title held by me - Deadpoolie
Means what you think - crap, now I gotta pee.
So don't go anywhere while I am gone
And don't you dare turn the Cinemax on
Creep in shadows, leap in silence
kill all the clowns with extreme bloody violence
But yo I ain't gonna hang with Agent X
He straight up a fool, an' he ate ten tons'a tex-mex.
Hearin' funny noises, watch yer back,
'Cause ya never quite know where Deadpoolie is at.



It's not like I asked you to kill your grandmother
or donate fifty thousand to the poor
Or even play the piano with your two front teeth;
It's only a dance.

It's not like I asked you to set the house aflame
or give your favorite dress to my aunt
Or even do the polka in your bathing suit;
It's only a kiss.

It's not like I asked you to shoot the village fool
Or share your pound cake with my friends
Or even paint a picture with your toes;
It's only a [CENSORED].



His name is Gilbert.
He sits smiling in the square
While bugs chew his legs.



Albatross, albatross, fly away home.
But if you have none, forever you'll roam.
Alight in the night on the prow of a ship.
As they try to outrun you at a very fast clip.



The black cat
sits in the hall
Perched on the edge of the rosewood table.
It looks at me, I look at it;
I can't decide if I should pick it up.
it's rather prickly and a bit heavy.
Perhaps I should leave it be?
It looks like rain.
But then the sun
might crest the hill
and who would need
a black cat on a sunny day?
Oh! Rain begins;
the air grows sharp.
It's a time for black cats after all.
My black cat does not do well when wet
but I take it along anyway.
It keeps my head warm.



Moist or mushy,
gloppy, gooey,
Full of jam or filled with cream;
Good for birthdays
Or for Earth Day,
Cake forever! is my dream.



It's dark, it's twisted and engulfed
in crowds of cheering thousands.
In center lies a dead man's hand,
a spear dropped down, a bloody pool.
Typhon looms, his hands thrown wide,
dragons snapping, breathing fire;
roars a challenge, come and fight,
but heroes gone, none left respond.
The temple built for mass amusement,
jeers tossed out as sinews snapped,
turns quickly to a mausoleum
and Typhon leaves for better prey.



Under the orange moon we sailed in our boat;
My wife, all smiles, on the edge of her seat.
At Grape Bay where the river split
A crowd came to cheer us; the whole republic.
Her apple cheeks flushed red with surprise
As the men on the shore offered us bread
And watermelon slush, devoid of seeds.
The women blew kisses, as the wind blew their skirts
We had brought home bananas, in crates by the bunch,
And they praised us and thanked us as we loaded the cart.



Don't look so bloody cheerful!
You're tracking footprints all over
And you dropped a candy wrapper
on the mantelpiece - what a mess!
Everything's all sticky now
and you look positively gleeful.
Holmes? Holmes, are you listening to me?
You walked right through the blood!

This writing exercise has been brought to you by foresthouse, her friendslist, and the letter "C."

P.S. Feel free to tell me which ones you like or hate. Heh.
Tags: deadpool, poems, poetry, the internet iz serius biznes, writing

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