Maybe a turtle is in a turtle shell much the way mice are in fur coats, eels wear slick high-sheen leather, and monsters live in skins of goats.
Stubborn dinosaurs wear emu feathers, and goddess cats are draped in fluff. Humans must don these hot meat suits, while armadillos carry armor that’s rough.
Porcupines live inside costumes with spears to protect like whales with the thickest skin. It makes me wonder if the being we see could be different from the soul within.
@Home Studio – 167th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Turtle photos to accompany my poem:
I found a bag of iced Christmas pretzels with sprinkles in the back of the pantry. Seeing as it is June, they are a bit past their prime freshness. Craving a sweet but unwilling to make a treat from scratch, I decided to give one a taste, just a tiny tentative baby nibble. Huh…not bad…fresh like a time capsule of Christmas past.
@Home Studio – 166th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Christmas Pretzels photos to accompany my poem:
I am so sorry, sweet Kura, for being a bad steward. I am treading water and barely staying afloat. Between trying to keep people, dogs, cats, plants, and an opossum alive, none can really thrive, certainly not me and, obviously, not you. I am guilty of neglect, and you deserve better. I already spoke with your former caretaker, and she has agreed to nurse you back to health, I only hope it is not too late.
@Home Studio on 6/18/24 @ 10:37pm – 164th poem of the year
@Home Studio – 163rd poem of the year (See below for poem in easier to read format)
I’m not much for flying flags of any kind. Raised a conscientious objector in a niche religion in the Bible Belt South, I was taught my allegiance belonged only to God. No pledges to countries, states, or other designations were acceptable, and certainly no banners representing such entities need adorn my person, home or belongings. Yet, I’ve always felt a swell of emotion when the National Anthem is sung, people covering their hearts in reverence. In recent years, I’ve learned of the Pan-African flag that many in the black communities are adopting to show allegiance to their roots, and the Juneteenth flag representing when more Americans than ever were finally rescued from enslavement. I live in Texas, where many seem more loyal to the state flag than any other, a people of the lone star who would once again be fine with setting up their own country if it means liberals stop messing in their business. I was an adult when I realized the United States flag is an ever-changing configuration of stars as states are added to the union. When Flag Day was made a federal holiday, there were only 13. This country has grown to 50, and will probably expand more in my lifetime.
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:
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:
“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.
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:
Shall I build a spire atop my roof and invite the townspeople to a grand ball with a string quartet? Or shall I plant a rose garden hedged in by topiaries and pebble paths bordered by flower beds? Or shall I plan a high tea with clotted cream, scones, and jam, cucumber sandwiches all around? If it’s a rainy day, should I pass the time by taking an afternoon lover and lounge on satin cushions? If I’m feeling melancholy, shall I read a book of poems by candlelight and cry luxuriously at the romance? Once I pay bills and file my taxes, get my oil changed and check the mail, grocery shop and gas up the car, shall I start on my new to do list? Yes, I think I shall.
rebekahjmarshall 