(Poem 282 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Her celestial body
is draped
in gossamer galaxies
and lacy luminosities
with flecks of infinite
cosmic dust
and gauzy strands
of nebulae birthing
baby stars.
Her swaying form
catapults asteroids
across the billowy
folds of organza
and satin,
hurtling dark matter
across crests
of supernovae,
bespeckling interstellar silk.
@Home Studio – 282nd poem of the year
(Poem 281 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
His mama was a ninja
who went by different names.
She rescued anyone in need,
without hope of gains.
His mama was a ninja,
good with knives and swords and fists,
but she also made the best katsu curry
and gave lovely handmade gifts.
His mama was a ninja
who could scale any wall
and dance across a roof peak
with no risk of a fall.
His mama was a ninja,
a fierce protector cloaked by night,
so he grew up to believe in justice
and always fight for what’s right.
@Home Studio – 281st poem of the year
Runner ups for the Mama Ninja photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 280 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
My book fairies
come out at night
as all book fairies do,
but mine are pesky
little things
nuisances, that’s who.
They steal my things
like coins and rings
and put them who knows where.
They flit around
upsetting the dogs
and giving the cats a scare.
I know the night
is their time to roam
and I shouldn’t begrudge their fun,
but we’re trying to sleep.
We have work tomorrow,
and their revelry’s just begun.
Once in a while
they’ll do something nice
like leave a breakfast for me,
but even then,
they use books as plates
and put fish scales in my tea.
I wish them well,
health and long life
and all those other things,
but I need them to go
inhabit someone else’s shelves
with their constantly flapping wings.
@Home Studio – 280th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Fairies photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 279 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
She fell in love near dusk
walking a gravel path that crunched
beneath their feet as they wandered
in search of flowers to photograph.
She had been gifted a new old camera
that made her feel nostalgic for a past
life, and he was looking for any excuse
to be alone with her to confess his feelings.
She bent to frame a delicate Magnolia
and his breath caught at her beauty.
He told her his heart would only continue
to beat if she accepted his love as her own.
She turned to him with a serious expression
and snapped a photo of his pained look.
“I accept,” she said, then took another
photo of his transformed elated visage.
She has both faces framed on her desk
and looks at them when she grows weary
of darkness and difficulties, to remember
that she was once someone’s next heartbeat.
@Home Studio – 279th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Camera photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 278 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
If this
was my room,
I would never
do
anything
but nap
and watch
the weather
change her mind
and write silly
poems about
dappled light
and dancing clouds,
and daydream
after reading
old love letters
while listening
to “Bésame Mucho”
on Spanish guitar.
@Home Studio – 278th poem of the year
(Poem 277 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
What an amazing
thing it is to see
a sight as lush
as this still life
painted by AI
at my insistence
that they create
something delicate
and lovely
from my words.
@Home Studio – 277th poem of the year
(Poem 276 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
There’s a hole
in the ceiling
that needs
to be fixed.
The leak
that caused the need
for the hole
has been repaired,
but the hole
remains.
I ponder that space
when the house
is quiet
and nothing else needs
my attention.
The naming of things
fascinates me,
and the fact that we have a word for the absence of something where another thing should be
gives me comfort.
It means
others have discovered
something missing
that needs to be there
and filled it with a name.
@Home Studio – 276th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Hole in the Ceiling photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 275 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
9 years ago,
I promised to
continue writing
a love story
with you
for the span
of the rest
of our lives.
I walked
down a grass aisle
to a tree canopy
and exchanged vows
in the presence
of our people
while the sun
set.
It was a Thursday,
and white
lights were strung
in the tree
so we
could celebrate
falling in love
after dark.
@Home Studio – 275th poem of the year
(Poem 274 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Inbound air vehicles
are pulling into the plane
parking lot, unloading people
like children off a school bus
and I’m sitting in the pick-up line,
waiting to scoop
you and your backpack
into the car and whisk
you home where you belong
after a long field trip.
@Home Studio – 274th poem of the year
(Poem 273 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
I needed a way
to display
my hair sticks
decoratively,
so I measured
and sketched
a design Grandad
could build
with his hands
and his tools
and his can-do
attitude that turns
ideas into art,
like a barn
or a staircase,
a balance beam
or doll furniture,
or a simple
wooden frame
with olive green yarn
stretched taut
between raised metal tacks
and a shiny gold hook
holding fast at the top
to hang my idea
for all the world to see.
@Home Studio – 273rd poem of the year
rebekahjmarshall 