(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 152 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
“Long live the Rose that grew”
and shared her life with you,
a man of principles and strength,
a man who’ll go to any length
to be your rock who is stable
and always put food on the table.
Long live the man who knew
that his love for Rose was true,
a woman of conviction and force,
a woman who looks good on a horse,
who would battle on your behalf
and knows how to make you laugh.
@Home Studio – 152nd poem of the year
Shakur, Tupac. The Rose That Grew from Concrete. New York: Pocket Books, 2009.
(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 145 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
There’s a lonely monster I know by the name of Stan.
He wanders the desert to avoid the face of man.
We ran into one another once on a camping trip.
I was with a tour group until I gave them the slip.
I came across Stan warming by a lovely little fire.
I assured him I wasn’t scared; he called me a liar.
With his eyes downcast, he told me about his past.
Then I told him about mine, though he never asked.
We agreed we were both the biggest lost cases,
not good with people and ashamed of our faces.
I remember the stars were quite beautiful that night.
Then Stan stood and stretched to his full height.
I was shocked and speechless, to say the least.
He was a hulking form, a most magnificent beast.
I apologized for staring, and he chuckled a bit
and declared me his long-lost mutual hypocrite.
See, together we each judged ourselves the worst,
as though from birth we both had been cursed,
though he had told me to give myself a break,
and I had preached that he deserved a fair shake.
When I eventually said I had to rejoin my group,
he patted my head, though he had to stoop.
We agreed to meet at this same spot once a year
to sit around the fire and drink some beer.
I’ve never told anyone of this once-a-year plan,
but I visit a lonely monster by the name of Stan.
@Home Studio – 145th poem of the year
(Poem 143 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
“The straight lines of time are actually threads of a web extending to infinity.” – Deepak Chopra’s The Way of the Wizard
No matter where I go,
there I am, at the center
of my universe, with
every vector of possibility
extending outward to
infinity and beyond.
When I can settle and
still the turmoil of my
soul, I can see the heavens
in my own being.
I know the sun does
not truly rise in the sky,
nor is the horizon the
edge of the world, yet
I live as though I believe
the earth is flat and this
is all there is to my being.
It is a lie that the past
creates the present and
the present creates the
future, when memories
of the future can inform
the present and change
my very perception of
the past I thought I knew.
I can live tomorrow’s
dream today if only I
choose to look beyond
the veil and accept that
I am a wizard, rather than
a human bound by fate.
I am the relationship
between nowhere and
now here because I have
localized eternity to this
point in time and choose
to focus on this present.
@Home Studio – 143rd 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.109-115.
Runner ups for the Eternity photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 142 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
My grandson graduated from pre-K
and I was moved, not by his adorable
singing and dancing and attempt at
the gestures to match his teacher,
but by the tears flowing down his
mother’s cheeks while watching her
sweet boy performing his heart out.
When I see her love for her children,
I am transported to similar moments
in our past when I watched her or
her brother with the pride only a
mother can contain, so full of love
and joy and fear and anticipation
that nothing else exists beyond the
perfection of their little contribution.
@Home Studio – 142nd poem of the year
(Poem 141 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
One minute she’s harvesting
seeds from dried flowers she
plucked from her own garden,
the next she’s trying on new
nails she got on sale from her
latest favorite glamour website.
She flits around handling
five children clamoring like
baby birds for her food and
her praise because nothing
is better than Erica approval.
Through it all she’s telling stories,
sharing the latest gossip, and
exclaiming such things as
I can’t,
ain’t nobody got time for that,
go lay down,
I got time today,
who are you talkin’ to,
not on my watch,
I can hear you, you know,
the call is coming from inside the house,
get somebody else to do it,
boy, bye,
they’re all broken.
And we laugh and cry and
sip tea and share our lives.
@Home Studio – 141st poem of the year
(Poem 140 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
An eagle egg cradled against
the heart incubates a hunter,
and nurtures a lifelong bond.
Only those who know the song
to call the great birds will be
saved with Noa from the flood.
It seems a world where all
species somehow coexist
would be best for everyone.
Why must someone always
strive to dominate others
rather than share space?
Caesar gave his life to bring
his clan to the promised land
where “ape shall not kill ape.”
According to the tenets he
espoused, everyone should
show generosity and compassion.
Raka of the Order of Caesar
led by example when he
offered food to the Nova.
Life lost is his recompense,
and Mae safeguarding her own
rather than caring for all.
@Home Studio – 140th poem of the year
Ball, Wes, director. Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes. 20th Century Studios, 2024.
rebekahjmarshall 