(Poem 178 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Photographs taken by Charlotte Sullivan & Rebekah Marshall 6/10/24
I love the taste of
my watermelon sugar
straight from the green rind.
@Home Studio – 178th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Watermelon Sugar photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 177 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/03OiGx https://gencraft.ai/p/G96GID https://gencraft.ai/p/BbJsEh
Aches and pains
pains and aches
knees and hips
whatever it takes
hard to bend
walking is tough
getting off the
floor is enough
trying to focus
on a word
when agony strikes
is quite absurd
take deep breaths
slow your heart
please pace yourself
if you’re smart
not enough spoons
too many knives
push too hard
here come hives
snap pop crack
click rattle break
every slight movement
injury at stake
I would like
to cocoon here
or float in
space a year
to maybe be
from gravity free
that is now
my earnest plea
@Home Studio – 177th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Aches and Pains photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 176 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Beyond the veil of the living
is the plain of the between,
where people linger after death
unable to be seen.
Only those who can’t let go
reside in this murky space,
but each lost soul has a story to tell
if someone can show them grace.
A Ghost Whisperer is sometimes summoned,
a spirit’s only hope,
communing with the voiceless ones
to help the living cope.
For usually, those who remain
feel burdened by an unexplained weight.
No sense can be made of their grief
or their loved ones’ undetermined fate.
If a satisfactory resolution
can be settled upon at last,
the ghost will finally release their hold
and accept that they have passed.
@Home Studio – 176th poem of the year (Inspired by the television show The Ghost Whisperer.)
Hewitt, Jennifer Love, Ghost Whisperer, Sander/Moses, CBS, 2005-2010.
Runner ups for the Ghost Whisperer photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 175 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
“At the level of the ego, we struggle to solve our problems. Spirit sees that struggle is the problem.” – The Way of the Wizard
AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/7XIJKd https://gencraft.ai/p/bhZDFJ
The madman who lived in a
hut deep in Camelot forest
was named Will for a reason.
He claimed to have no king,
despite Arthur ordering him
to come forth and explain.
According to his wife, grief
had walled him up after his
son died in a tragic accident.
The man named Will decided
to perish unless God himself
appeared and made plain
the reason for suffering.
Arthur sat all night speaking
with the man, who he felt
closer to than anyone else
in his kingdom, for he keenly
felt the suffering of his people
the poor, the sick, the burdened.
Arthur shared the wisdom
Merlin taught him, rather than
struggle against evil, realize
that it does not actually exist.
We create heaven and hell
with our own will, invent duality,
evil and good, light and shadow,
chase our tails to our own
detriment and create despair.
We must allow our will to be
free to choose to reject this
duality and permit unity to be
born in our hearts and minds,
rather than sealing ourselves
up in a hut deep in the woods
of grief where we await our deaths.
@Genuine Joe’s – 175th 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.123-128.
Runner ups for the Forest Hut photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 174 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Chickens, ducks, cousins, goats,
bunnies, memories, friends, and fun—
a morning spent at a petting zoo
laughing and learning in the sun.
Parents watch and take photographs,
encourage the children to be brave,
pet those babies and give them love;
try to make that little goat behave.
A kid’s a kid, whether goat or child,
ready for frolicking on a summer day.
Each is happy to be with the other,
nothing to do but run around and play.
@Genuine Joe’s – 174th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Petting Zoo photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 171 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/QTg9tw https://gencraft.ai/p/oBhyHg https://gencraft.ai/p/jQ3tpi
Watermelon, strawberries, red sugar Kool-Aid,
fried catfish, hot links, barbecue, red velvet cake,
hibiscus tea, cornbread, greens, black eye peas,
strawberry shortcake, deviled eggs, mac and cheese,
potato salad, baked beans, strawberry pie,
sweet tea, coleslaw, and anything you can fry.
Families spending time together, off work for the day,
children at the splash pad, squealing as they play,
parades and floats, marching bands, music on blast,
celebration of freedom, remembrance of the past,
honoring the ancestors, lifting up the next generation,
supporting black businesses, praying for the nation.
@Home Studio – 171st poem of the year
Runner ups for the Juneteenth photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 170 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Bless your heart, you simple soul;
not a thought going on up there.
No light on in that attic of yours, or
maybe the light’s on, but nobody’s home.
You mean well, but you can’t help
it that you’re not playing with a
full deck of cards. Poor thing fell out
of the family tree and hit every branch
on the way down. It’s not your fault
you’re not the sharpest tool in the shed;
you’ve lost your marbles, you’re
off your rocker, and your elevator’s stuck
between two floors. You’re thick as a post,
rowing with one oar, a pickle short of a barrel.
There might be a leak in your think tank,
one prop short of a plane, and I’m afraid you might
have a few loose screws. You’re a few peas
short of a casserole, two sandwiches
shy of a picnic, a drink short of a 6-pack,
and can’t think your way out of a paper bag.
It’s ok that you’re silly as a goose,
as smart as bait, and don’t have all
the dots on your dice. You may not be firing
on all 6 cylinders, possibly running
about a quart low. You’re a few fries
short of a Happy Meal, and your cheese might
have slipped off your cracker, but I love it
when you come around because if I stand
close enough to you I can hear the ocean.
@Home Studio – 170th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Bless Your Heart photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 169 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
The conundrum of laundry is constant
with eight people in the house every day.
Someone will forget to clean the dryer vent,
and for that a lecture will come my way.
Some use scents to make their clothing smell nice,
while others prefer unscented and pure.
Three different soaps add up to quite a price,
but it is worth it for peace, I am sure.
Sometimes a person forgets to unload
their washer or dryer causing dismay,
as others in line now find their turn slowed
and possibly pushed to another day.
Eventually, all laundry gets done;
clean clothes is the victory we have won.
@Home Studio – 169th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Laundry photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 168 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/pnxfq2 https://gencraft.ai/p/oNLuGd https://gencraft.ai/p/TJyDtD
Four hunters arrive,
traversing a post-
apocalyptic scene
in feudal Japan.
Their stealth persists
until an enemy Oni
raises an alarm and
the hunters become
the hunted once again.
Each battle, skirmish,
and moment of hand-
to-hand combat brings
them closer to the
arrival of the boss,
a demon monster,
one of many unleashed
by The Cataclysm.
All that waits to be
seen, is who will be
the last one standing.
@Home Studio – 168th poem of the year (after playing with David, Lydia, and Charlotte)
Runner ups for the Hametsu photos to accompany my poem:
(Poem 167 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
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:
rebekahjmarshall 