(Poem 160 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
At the center of the universe
is a sunflower that radiates
beautiful, perpetual energy—
spirals and sparks, rays and
bolts, streams and streaks—
emanating every which way
from the black inflorescence.
Each petal bursts forth with
eternal seeds of galactic life,
bound for destinations pre-
determined by destiny’s map.
@Home Studio – 160th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Power Source photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 159 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
No one got the memo to
Beauty that brushing is a
necessity for maintaining
her silky, fluffy, calico coat.
She thinks my attacks with
the evil brush and comb are
horrific assaults on both her
privacy and hope of survival.
If it were up to her, Beauty’s
jewelry would consist of
burs and spear grass, with
mats of hair and caked mud.
She would rather nap and
complain about her only three
quarters full food bowl than
comply with any grooming.
@Home Studio – 159th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Beauty Pain photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 158 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Every opossum should have a hammock
for the purpose of reclining and lounging.
They spend the night mastering feats dynamic,
then cleaning little hands after scrounging.
Their weary bodies need 18 hours of sleep,
so it’s amazing we ever catch them awake.
A suspended soft perch ensures nary a peep,
as they dream of eating cake and a steak.
Yes, every opossum deserves a hanging bed
where they can climb to a safe, warm retreat.
There they can nestle and rest a tired head
to nap in peace and dream of sweet meat.
@Home Studio – 158th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Opossum Hammock photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 155 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
What goes up
might come down,
depending on the
amount of fun
being had by the
bouncers involved,
the relative weight
of giggles to the
equal and opposite
force of carefree-ness
being exerted,
tempered only by
the exuberant joy
of breathless
collapse.
@Home Studio – 155th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Trampoline photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 154 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
The darkening sky
has balled up her fists,
begun to glower,
and let her rage roil.
The sudden assault
when she unleashes
a torrent is surprising
for its violent beauty.
@Home Studio – 154th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Sudden Storm photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 153 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Let’s go ahead and
start the meeting
since we’re 3 minutes
past and we want to
respect your time.
We need to be flexible,
be prepared to pivot,
and accept that
this is a new norm.
We are going to be
rolling out the new task,
so we have to
shift directions
because, as always, the
requester determines the focus,
and in order to
meet the expectations,
you’ll need to respect the
importance of the workflow.
Due to internal deadlines
that will continue to
vary by task,
I may have to give you a non-answer.
I will never say no to more resources,
but I have to say that
I can’t speak to the assumption.
In terms of use cases…
reach out to P.O.’s,
and utilize your team.
I am going to have to
create a document to guide the process
because we all know
there are specific guidelines,
and we must be aware of
time on task to meet deadlines.
I appreciate your input;
that is useful data.
@Home Studio – 153rd poem of the year
(Poem 151 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
My opossum Joey Koey
is a secret ninja at night.
He goes on special missions
guided only by moonlight.
When we’re all asleep,
safe resting in our beds,
he’s off saving the world;
we’re scratching our heads.
How does he get out of
his kennel all on his own?
How does he get the jobs?
Does he talk on my phone?
Who out there needs saving
by an adorable marsupial?
His ministrations are sincere;
he’s persistent and dutiful.
I’m sure he has his reasons
for sneaking around and all,
for using his claws and tail
to make sure he doesn’t fall.
I have to trust he knows what
he’s doing and will be alright,
while I sleep safe and sound in
my bed and he’s out all night.
@Home Studio – 151st poem of the year
Runner ups for the Ninja Opossum photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 149 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
“Clues that fall out of the sky are messages from spirit, but you must be alert to catch them.” – Merlin, The Way of the Wizard
The laws of nature
answer to no man.
Striking a match creates a flame.
Lightning fells a tree.
The sun entices the earth to pirouette.
We are all caught in complex
webs of cause and effect,
a butterfly effect
of chaos unfolding
smoothly.
Synchronicities,
narrow escapes,
answered prayers,
divine coincidences,
lucky accidents,
the knowing of intuition—
all are clues you’ve
left so you’ll recognize
yourself through the
disguise of the material.
We must respect the mystery,
but pursue it ruthlessly
if we hope to find what
we don’t even know we seek.
@Home Studio – 149th poem of the year
Chopra, Deepak. The Way of the Wizard: Twenty Spiritual Lessons for Creating the Life You Want. New York, United States of America, Harmony Books, 1995, pp.116-122.
Runner ups for the divine coincidence photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 148 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
When Jennifer gets hangry,
people better watch out.
She’s usually quite docile,
but whoo can she shout.
The slightest little noise
can make her head explode.
If a breeze blows too strong,
she starts croaking like a toad.
Once she reaches that point,
there’s nothing you can do,
except pass her a plate of nachos,
a hamburger, a taco, or two.
@Home Studio – 148th poem of the year
(Poem 147 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Frank is very philosophical,
though I doubt he would agree.
His views on life are complex,
but his conscience remains free.
I usually enjoy our conversations,
though I don’t always understand.
His mind works in counterpoints;
his theories can be quite grand.
I think he wants justice to exist,
but he knows that’s a stretch.
It bothers him that evil prevails,
yet he feels pity for the wretch.
His spirit is buoyed by hopefulness,
though his mind is a critic at heart.
Frankly, I’ve never met anyone else
who I can say is half as smart.
@Home Studio – 147th poem of the year
rebekahjmarshall 