Tag Archives: Poetry

The Fire Next Time…

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Other than my poem, A Lesson Deferred and a Facebook status post, I have been pretty quiet on the whole Trayvon Martin matter. A friend called me on it knowing I must have some opinion. My response was along the lines of simply not wanting to go there again. Today, I read a comment from a fellow blogger’s Slice of Life post from yesterday and she has nailed my feelings right on the head…

“I am so very tired to being quiet, of having to be concerned about the degree to which I can express my feelings because I have to worry that people will label me an “Angry Black Woman””

This is how I feel in a nutshell.

What does it say when a public figure such as Rush Limbaugh regularly feels free to spew vitriol on a variety of subjects, but I feel that I feel the need to self-censor? The very fact that I feel this restriction, this need to play the “Good Negro” just makes me more angry.

>==========<

Visit the rest of today’s Slices of Life over at Two Writing Teachers.

SOL - Slice of Life March Challenge 2012

 

My Baby, He Loves Me…

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Drifting on a mode so deep – had to put it to words so I can sleep
Some of you won’t like this I know – but the muse goes where it wants to go

My Baby
He Loves Me

He Loves Me Like Chi-Town

Gangsta All The Way, ‘Cause He Know I Don’t Play
Before He Could Love Me Here, He Had To Love Me There
He Had To Speakeasy To Find The Key To Unlock My Mind
Because Once Unlocked There Is No Prohibition To What He Won’t Do For Love
Because Once Unlocked There Is No Inhibition To What I Will Do For Love
Because Once Unlocked There Is Just The Mission To Love

My Baby
He Loves Me

He Loves Me Like Detroit

Do-Wop Singing, Joy Bringing, Hip Swaying, Motown Playing
Hot Car Driving, Always Striving To
Giving Me The Best That’s He’s Got
Giving Me The Best ‘Cause It’s Hot
Giving It All Until We’re Bloodshot

My Baby
He Loves Me

He Loves Me Like New Orleans

The Big Easy – Easy Like A Sunday Morning, Just As The Day Is Dawning
Like Cool Jazz On The Hot Delta, I’m Telling Ya’ll I Never Felt A
Who Do The Voodoo, Like He Do
The Bass Of His Sax Makes My Skin Thrum
The Bass Of His Sax Makes My Lips Hum
The Bass Of His Sax Makes Me Just Wanna Succumb

My Baby
He Loves Me

He Loves Me Like Compton

Timberland Wearing, Rough-Neck Swearing
All The While Smiling Cause We Doggie Styling
Free-Styling On Crenshaw Where They All Saw
The Liquid Ounce¸ Ounce, Ounces Of The Forty
Drip On The Flounce, Flounce, Flounces Of My Booty
In The Bounce, Bounce, Bounces Of The Hoopty

My Baby
He Loves Me

He Loves Me Like The Big Apple

Creating It, Making It, Taking It, Never Faking It
So Good It Makes Me Weep For The Sexing That Never Sleeps
Ain’t Got A Damn Thing To Say When He’s Laying Down The Broadway

Shoes On The Counter, In The Hall, Still Outside The Front Door.
Buttons Splattered, Clothing A Tattered, Scattered Mess On The Floor
No Shame In My Game ‘Cause Don’t You Know?
I’m Well Versed In The Language Of Fellatio
Going From “oh baby, oh baby, oh baby, oh.”
To “Oh Baby! Oh Baby! Oh Baby! Oh Baby! OH!”

Back Stinging From The Sweat In Trails His Nails Left
And Moaning For More ‘Cause I’m Not Done Yet
Tom Catted, Hair Matted,
Sheets Twisting, Sweat Glistening,
Cock Throbbing, All Out Sobbing
And That’s Just Him . . .

Menage A Trois? Yeah! Fuck That And Get The Strap!
Tongue Dripping On The Cunt Dipping For
The New Jack Trick Of The Deep Licked Long Dick
Where I’m Laid Down To Get Jacked-On
Where I’m Held Down To Get Sucked-Off
Where I’m Tied Down To Get Fucked Up

Stroking, Stoking, Toking, Smoking
Steaming, Streaming, Screaming, Creaming

MY! BABY! IS! LOVING! ME! UNTIL! WE! ARE! FUCKING! EACH! OTHER! AS! HARD! AS! THIS!

And Oh – Did I Tell You About My Baby?

He Loves Me…

>==========<

dVerse Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight Week 37

A Lesson Deferred

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Moonlit justice
of an imagined sunlit crime
Swung from an oak
a cruel pendulum mark of time
Some eyes tremble
Some eyes leer
all wonder at the marvel
of what happened here

Emmit’s a lesson some can’t forget
Emmit’s a lesson some haven’t learned yet

How many more
Must there be
Why does it take a man’s death
for us to see

As we travel down the road of another man
Who will never travel the same again
Truck tires designed to ride him above
Much better used to drag him down in the night
For a crime no more sinister than
He wasn’t born white

James Byrd’s a lesson some can’t forget
James Byrd’s a lesson some haven’t learned yet

And sometimes a child is shot
For doing nothing more
The walking home in the rain
From the local store
Was it the clothes he wore?
Was it the color of his skin?
He carried iced-tea and candy
What was his sin?

Some fifty plus years between hence and thence
To be reminded how fragile the balance on the fence

Stewart, Griffith and Hawkins lesson some can’t forget
Diallo, Bell and now Martin lessons some haven’t learned yet
How many more names will be added before the lesson is set?

>==========<

Letting off some steam in the wake of another senseless killing and wanting to bitch-slap Geraldo Rivera even while a part of me understands the rational behind the unintentionally inflammatory statement.

Visit the rest of today’s Slices of Life over at Two Writing Teachers.

SOL - Slice of Life March Challenge 2012

Two Princes

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Two New York princes on a subway train
Two different styles, two different manes
Mister Business so perfectly dressed
While Mr. Free Spirit’s so casually tressed
One baby bottom smooth as always
One hasn’t seen a razor in many days
Mr. Business is the model of all things materially
But it’s Mr. Free Spirit who captivates me
Is it the flip-flop sandals on his feet?
Or that reappearing dimple in his cheek
Head bopping in beat to his own tune
In a way Mr. Business’ would never swoon
Business is cool as in ice, Spirit’s cool as in fun
Maybe I’ll take the money under another sun
But for today Mr. Free Spirit is the one

========<

Visit the rest of today’s Slices of Life over at Two Writing Teachers.

SOL - Slice of Life March Challenge 2012

Midnight Flute

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I remember it was late
late in the night
I had just turned off
the bedroom light
Humming an old tune
I couldn’t remember the words
I just stopped
when a sound was heard
As sound that challenged
teased, taunted
So pretty, yet so alone
it seemed almost haunted
Standing in the darkness
I could feel it surround me
Bringing its presence
to everything around me
Reminding me of past evenings
serene and tame
Of fire and romance
when love was in flame
The memories of things
I still regret
Past happenings, mistakes
I wanted to forget
My knowledge of the moment
suddenly lost
The sounds turning my thoughts
to such utter chaos
It was a long time before my hands
touched the blinds
Seeking out whatever
I hoped to find
Which turned out to be
just an empty street
Quiet and deserted
not a soul to meet
Only the silent moments
that lingered on
Made me realize
the sounds were gone
Its chilling warmth
and heated cold
Newly arrived
yet centuries old
Leaving me to wonder
if ever again
Would I hear the warm sounds
of such a cold friend
Or was it an enemy
I’ll never get to know
With its once becoming sounds
now haunting me so

>========<

Entered in

Thursday Poets Rally Week 64 (March 22-28, 2012)

I Felt You…

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I felt you

A city with millions of people wedged between us

You touched me

A slow, easy gossamer susurrus 
Eased from the back of my mind
And worked its way forward

Past the myriad of shopping list for groceries,
Home improvement projects and dry cleaning runs
Skipping over the reminder for the 1:30 meeting
And it was already 1:27
Through the jungle of facts, figures and techno babble
That will be my form the verbiage in a few moments 
And took over the forefront of my mind,
My heart, my physical and emotional soul
And dropped them straight into the moments
Just before afterglow

And I inhale

Gone was the fluorescent office glare
The soft glow of candlelight
All that I can see
The white noise of voices
Replaced by the soothing sounds of bass sax heat
All that I can hear 

And I exhale

Vanilla hazelnut coffee, transformed 
Into the vanilla scented musk of incense
All that I can smell

And I inhale

The slow cool slip of air over my tongue
Past parted lips, 
Bring back the sweetness of your breath
All that I can taste
In whole, a combination to 
Arch my spine backwards
As I subconsciously thrust forward
To the feel of your fingers
All that I can touch 

And I exhale

As fate, spite, karma, Murphy’s Law intervene
My phone rings just as
A co-worker steps up to my desk
My response to both a questioning “Yes?”
And I’m trapped at the verge 
As you and he ask in stereo
“Are you coming?”

And I inhale

He for the meeting now a minute late
You for the dinner in a few hours hence
And somewhere in the echoes of silence
Between the flap of a hummingbird’s wing
The atom’s splitting 
And my “Oh!” of surprise
I realize the answer to both question
And a third
That could just as easily 
Be asked of myself
I close my eyes, grasping the phone
And the arm of my chair tighter
The inside of my cheek taking the punishment
Of my suppressed moan
As I answer all three yet one question

And I exhale

“Yes…”

>==========<

Entered in..

dVerse Poet’s Pub | OpenLinkNight – Week 35

Visit the rest of today’s Slices of Life over at Two Writing Teachers.

SOL - Slice of Life March Challenge 2012

Honey / Darling

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Honey, it’s a great day for a picnic!
Darling, yes, if you say so.
I can gather people real quick,
Honey, it’s a great day for a picnic,
I already have the food picked
But, I don’t really want to go
Honey, it’s a great day for a picnic!
Darling yes, if you say so.

Honey, ants are crawling on the table
Darling, can’t you just shoo them away
Well I would were I able
Honey, ants are crawling on the table
Just the thought makes me unstable
Lord, don’t let me say what I want to say
Honey, ants are crawling on the table
Darling, can’t you just shoo them away

Honey, when will the franks be done?
Darling, you’re starting to be a pain.
This one tastes a little undone
Honey, when will the franks be done?
Folks are waiting with their buns
Darling I think I just felt rain.
Honey, when will the franks be done?
Darling, you’re starting to be a pain.

Honey, everything is all wet!
Darling lets just go home now.
It’s even soaked all the briquettes,
Honey, everything is all wet!
This is the worst idea you’ve had yet!
To the moon, Darling! Bang! Zoom! Pow!
Honey, everything is all wet
Darling lets just go home NOW!

Honey? Who left all the food out there?
Darling, I have no idea.
It should be in the Frigidaire!
Honey? Who all left the food out there?
I have a thousand Tupperware,
It’s all going to spoil I fear!
Honey? Who all left the food out there?
Darling, I have no idea!

The Mystery Inside

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Yes, enter this orchard of distinct cherry
I believe I am more than ready
To place all my trust in you to let
You handle this orchard’s precious get

Yes, I grant you access to my colorific wonders
But please, do not embark inside to plunder
You must be gentle, don’t brusquely grope
Slowly ferry your intent, along the brief slope

First press yourself against my door gently,
There will be a sound, which grants you entry.
Listen for the gasp between a moan and a sob
As you place your fingers on my mansion’s knob,

With a kiss as your token to be on queue
As I take you abreast for proper homage due
Wooing my passion with your tongue,
You’ll revel in just how my gem’s bell is rung

Being gentle does not mend to being meek
When I let you in to all that you seek,
You’ll find my resistance wearing thin,
As I deeply ache to let you in

Heat that cooks when you come in from the cold
Ancient sacred treasure, that somehow stays gold
The blaze of an epiphany, behind solid advice
Euphoria’s loss in a Fool’s Paradise

Access granted, you’ll find me a gregarious host
As you decide which lips you enjoy most
Exploring beauty redefined for the something I hide,
For my mystery changes each time you’re inside

Easy Does It

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Easy does it! How time has slipped away…
Both sons now call other places home
Each making his own mark in this world
And soon another state may claim one as son
Easy does it! How time has slipped away…

Easy does it! How time has slipped away…
My heart feels that it was just what? Last week?
I kissed a boo-boo and made it all well
Or, explained why a girl may act like that
Easy does it! How time has slipped away…

Easy does it! How time has slipped away…
The nest for has emptied for quite some time
And I mark the times when I now see their faces.
For the times between seem ever longer
Easy does it! How time has slipped away…

Easy does it! How time has slipped away…
The pictures in my heart still feel brand new
And yet marks the years that have gone by
Fresh lines upon my face tell equal truths
Easy does it! How time has slipped away…

Easy does it! How time has slipped away…
Did I not just give birth unto these men?
Who wince when I call them my babies
But my babies, just aren’t babies anymore
Easy does it! How time has slipped away…

>==========<

It’s been an interesting few days of marking time for me. I’m still working it out.

In the interim I’ll visit the rest of today’s Slices of Life over at Two Writing Teachers.

SOL - Slice of Life March Challenge 2012 

 


When Winter Cradles Spring

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According to the calendar, this is spring’s first day
I can just make out the tinges of green on its way
But one more winter’s snowfall has one last say
Making this day, just like my heart, somewhat gray
Those first hints of green are a melancholy thing
My love I miss you most, when winter cradles spring

The spring day we met, the ground still had snow
And like the seedlings underneath a love began to grow
And the years like sunlight increased it’s glow
But on a snowy spring day, you were taken so
Trapped in a time warp, my eyes start to sting
My love I miss you most, when winter cradles spring

It has been a few years now, since you’ve died
And I concede, the tears grow less, that I’ve cried
I would love to say my pain has turned its tide
But on days like today all would know I’ve lied
For me it’s a lamentation, the morning birds sing
My love I miss you most, when winter cradles spring

When I look at the walls, in the spaces somewhat bare
In my mind’s eyes, are the pictures of you, still hanging there
The seasons come, the seasons go, in their time allotted share
But this, not quite winter, not quite spring, holds bittersweet air
I tug at the finger that sometimes wears your wedding ring
My love I miss you most, when winter cradles spring

Sometimes I’m hit with pangs that my heart can barely stand
But they’re starting to fade, like the tide wearing away sand

Those first hints of green are a melancholy thing
Trapped in a time warp my eyes start to sting
For me it’s a lamentation, the morning birds sing
I tug at the finger that sometimes wears your wedding ring
Wondering if, no when, my heart will ease its painful cling
Oh my love I miss you most, when winter cradles spring

>========<

SOL - Slice of Life March Challenge 2012

SOL - Slice of Life March Challenge 2012

* I wrote this poem eight years ago when my husband was very much among the living.
* Six years ago on this day, he became my late-husband.
* Two years ago this week I started this blog, referencing the above write, but somehow never posted it.
* Today I note, yet again, how time flies regardless of fun and I post and I remember and I smile and I give thanks again to all of you who have chosen to follow along with me on this path, no matter when you picked up the trail.

Raivenne