(Poem 349 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Between the covers
so many worlds
unfold into beautiful
realities where she
can be anything or
anyone or nothing
but a concept
or a rhythm
or a sound
that inflates the silence
with pulsating
life on the verge
of one final breath
before the universe flings
itself into new voids
so she can invent
something new.
@Home Studio – 349th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Book Girl photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 348 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
The lives of the oppressed
are sacrificed to satisfy
the frivolous whims
of the powerful
with the luster
of blood pearls
and mermaid’s tears.
The battle of the depths
is a fight to the death
for those forced to toil
beneath the surface
deprived of oxygen,
freedom, choice, love—
purely to appease
the purses of nobles
and the vanity of every
beautiful lady in the
Tang Dynasty.
@Home Studio – 348th poem of the year (Based on The Story of Pearl Girl.)
Xie Ze, The Story of Pearl Girl. lusi Zhao, Yuning Liu, Tang Xiao Tian, Laoyouo Film and Television and Galaxy Cool Entertainment Media, 2024.
Runner ups for the Pearl Diver photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 347 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
The great North American
Gator Bird can be found
in the swamps and marshlands
in the Louisiana bayous
along the Mississippi
and the Okefenokee in Georgia.
They eat other birds, snakes,
turtles, fish, racoons, opossums,
deer, and the occasional stray human.
@Home Studio – 347th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Gator Bird photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 346 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Robot was programmed
to play fetch with dog.
Dog, unaware that it was code,
built a friendship with Robot.
Dog was taught to always
reciprocate kindness with kisses.
Robot, unaware that it was trained,
grew to love the unruly Dog.
Together, they went on walks,
and Robot gave Dog pets.
Dog waited for Robot to charge;
Robot waited for Dog to wake.
Neither judged the other for
not being what they were not.
Robot and Dog were the best
friends a machine and dog could be.
@Home Studio – 346th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Robot and Dog photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 345 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
I was reading a Mary Oliver
poem, as I tend to do
and the theme was birdsong,
as her poems tend to be,
and I was transported—
looking out the open window
of my grandson’s room
when he lived with me
as a baby,
our routine as simple
as one, two, three,
me holding him
him looking at me,
waiting for my imitation
of the bird call of the morning.
I was quite impressed
with my mimicry,
as was he.
The bird would sing to us
and we would respond.
If I took too long,
my grandson would grunt
to hurry me up.
A proper reply must
be whistled off, woman.
I’d forgotten that I learned
three different bird calls
during our shelter-in-place
COVID season,
probably the accomplishment
I’m secretly most proud of,
even though I also got
my Master’s degree,
fostered my grandchildren,
taught remotely,
rescued an elderly cat,
and survived.
But those morning
conversations between
the birds, my grandson,
and me—
@Home Studio – 345th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Bird Calls photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 344 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
I knitted my dino a sweater.
It took 3,459 balls of yarn.
I worked spring, summer and fall
because it’s cold in his barn.
I wanted it ready by Christmas,
so I worked all night and day.
Now he’s wearing his giant sweater
and can enjoy the snow and play.
@Home Studio – 344th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Dino Sweater photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 343 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
A reflection is merely
a light wave echo,
rebound optical rays,
boomerang spectral particles—
how fitting
that Narcissus was cursed
to fall in love
with the likeness
of himself,
a mere copy.
Had he truly
known how to love,
he might have been kind
to poor Echo,
that sad nymph
of the woods
and spared both their lives.
@Home Studio – 343rd poem of the year
Runner ups for the Reflection photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 342 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Magic hair
sends waves
through the cosmos,
a journey from
root to tip
and beyond,
then ricochets
back to the heart
of the goddess
from whence it came,
the answer
to infinite energy.
@Home Studio – 342nd poem of the year
Runner ups for the Magic Hair photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 341 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Gifts and necessities
fill every inch of the car
blending possessions
one step in the process
that is part and parcel of
two lives becoming one
from Texas to Canada
Michigan in between
mother’s heart rests easy
when she sees her boy
turned man open the car
door for his wife
and drive away
to start his new life
@Home Studio – 341st poem of the year
Runner ups for the Car Jenga photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 340 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
https://images.app.goo.gl/BA4nMzC4RVPPvq8M7 https://images.app.goo.gl/8hjt24a2SLX8EcVs5
Texans and Canadians
joined
for one last meal
at Jardín Corona
finding a common bond
over Mexican food,
a bit ironic
that the Canadians present
are the only of us
who have ever lived
in Mexico
and spoken
Spanish
as a way of life before,
but we tried our best
to order authentically—
shared chips and salsa,
chile con queso, guacamole,
then our favorites—
carne asada, flautas,
mole poblano, enchiladas
with verde sauce, quesadillas,
beef tacos, pollo tequila
pechuga encebollada
pollo endiablado,
steak, carne guisada,
with sides of rice,
charro beans,
and of course,
tortillas.
Our families are now
tied together
by marriage,
so it’s a good thing we
can at least all agree
on good food.
@Home Studio – 340th poem of the year
rebekahjmarshall 