Tag Archives: Poetry

NaPoWriMo — Know That

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BBBHM

Know that you are formidable

And while your strength
Is not necessarily in the physical
The sheer force of your physicality
Cannot be ignored
As the masses yield
For you to pass

Know that you are king

A giant among men
That everyone sees
Yet so many are so blind
To the fact
That for all your might
You still

Know that you are human

A sizable imperfect in a world
That demands
A smaller perfection
Near impossible to attain yet
Unlike many who share
The burden of your weighty crown
You are blessed

Know that you are desired

For the sight of you
All that is without
The yielding solidness that
Deeply moves me
To the very core
Of my inner soul

Know that you are valued

Just as deeply
For the thoughts of you
All that is within
The concrete essence
That moves my heart
In ways which
need not be understood
By anyone but me

Know that you are loved

Beautiful
Brilliant
Big
Handsome
Man

Yes, if nothing else…

Know that.

NaPoWriMo — Why?

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just a little brutal humor for a Saturday

Why did he have to raise his hand?
His mind just must have upped and gone
I’m not the type he could command
Forget about put his hands on!

Forgot who he was married to?
Why did he have to raise his hand?
It was a stupid thing to do,
Picked the wrong girl to make a stand

And had the nerve to say demand!
To me! A cleaver yielding cook!
Why did he have to raise his hand?
For just one swipe was all it took

For there it was, hand on the floor
And finally, he understands
The only thing you knock are doors
Why did he have to raise his hand?

Imagine

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hello darling
clear your mind

and just imagine

imagine me walking in the room
and you’re sitting there sipping an iced libation
(Got the drink? Sip it. Good.)

imagine you are listening to soft music
(Got the song? Hear it. Good.)

imagine that I give you this soft, warm hug
then look deeply into your eyes and kiss your lips with affection

imagine that I as I start to remove my jacket
you realize that all I’m wearing underneath

is my charm

imagine the feel of the shag on your back
as I lay you down
(The beige plush. Feel it? Good.)

imagine the emotional dispute on where to touch me first
until I run your fingers over each moist inch of skin I’ve exposed

slowly

imagine that I fetch a cube of ice from your glass
as I start to take off your clothes

slowly

imagine your deep throated growl
as each inch of your skin I expose is iced, and then licked

slowly

imagine the manner of my hands all over you, my lips all over you,
as I hit all your spots just right

imagine my tongue’s downward slide, as I engage your salute
with the proper oration

imagine that you want me so badly you begin to tremble
from my oblique slide on top of you

then imagine just as you’re on the verge
I do everything you want me to do

everything

imagine the feel of every whisper, every touch, every kiss, every lick,
every move, every growl, every thrust, every moan

everything

imagine as we calm down softly
whispering how much we love each other,
laying there in afterglow

then imagine I say ‘again’

so? are you ready for tonight?

Good. Because I’m putting my key in the door,

now…

====<>====


One Shot Wednesday — Week 53

Even As

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These stolen moments with you singe my lips
Even as I stand in the blaze of summer’s sweat
Even as I stand in the midst of winter’s onset
My need for you overrides my hardships
Caught in your haze, my resolve slips
As with each touch of you I love and regret
These stolen moments

Even as I know how your poison drips
Even as I know you’ll be my death yet
I stand here and light up another cigarette
I pray each day I’ll free of your grips
These stolen moments


====<>====

 Thursdays Poets’ Rally Week 49
Thursdays Poets’ Rally Week 49 (July 28 – August 3, 2011)

Reflections on Maybe

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Penned this over 25 years ago for my late-husband.
Praying I get to feel something like this again someday…

I think of him night and day. If not exactly twenty-four hours, as close as humanly possible for anyone to honestly come. He opened the closed book that was my mind with knowledge. He filled my hardened heart with happiness and refreshed my weary soul with joy.

Maybe it’s just imagining things.

When I’m not with him, everything becomes dull and lifeless, off kilter. The most exquisite of items have no appeal. When I am with him however, everything has color and magic. I can suddenly see the majesty in a variety of ordinary of things.

Maybe it’s all in my mind.

When time comes in two forms; how long it has been since I last saw him and how long it will be until I see him again. I find myself saying things like ‘It must have happened on Friday because it was the day before the last time we went out and that was two days ago.’

Maybe it’s just being silly.

When I’m with him I feel changed-different. That things can be good solely because he is apart of it. He leaves me feeling so fulfilled, that for a long time afterwards, I forget how hardened and empty my life felt without him. He calls and whispers sweet everythings for an hour, then I’ll call back a minute for an encore. And the charm of it is, we don’t have to speak to each other, we just seem to feel what needs to be.

Maybe it’s crazy.

I find myself opening at just the thought of him. I can feel his presence even when there’s an ocean between us. I find myself doing extra things that are pleasing to him, because what he feels-I feel. When he laughs-I laugh, he hurts-I hurt. I choose to stand by him, not because I have to, but because that’s where my heart knows I should be and death defy all who dares to down him. When without him I can’t breath and with him I’m breathless.

Maybe it’s imagining things.
Maybe its all in my mind.
Maybe it’s silly.
Maybe it’s crazy, but
Maybe, just maybe, it’s

Love

NaPoWriMo — Final Goodbye

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You charmed me with a personal obsession
Made me feel our stars crossed above
I was the best and the best was your possession
Too late I learned possession isn’t love

The morning’s desperate heartfelt plea
You didn’t mean to go off about the pen
And you kissed the newest hurt tenderly
I was desperate to believe it wouldn’t happen again

In the good times you made me feel safe and sound
In the bad times you were someone I never knew
In the phantasmagoria mess I found
I was helpless as to what to do

Our life was perfect from afar
No one could put the sham to task
A nattily tied scarf to cover a mar
Bruises hidden behind a foundation mask

Even in the face of your constant rage
Saying goodbye was never an issue
The fear of being alone far outweighed
the fear of being with you

I played the perfect partner for so long
I started to believe my own sham
So used to tapping to your song
I couldn’t tell you who I am

And I’m not sure when the tide turned
Or just when it all fell apart
I just knew this love you once earned
Became a huge gaping hole in my heart

You went off on a business trip one day
And I just simply went out
By the time you returned I was a continent away
Redefining who I was about

And for a year you cajoled or threatened or yelled
I was terrified to go out for a walk
but by God’s grace my new convictions held
As I let you in for a final talk

The charm was still there I had to concede
But I was no longer yours to command
Your look of resignation made my heart bleed
But the signed papers stayed clutched in my hand

Still ‘Come back!” wanted to rip free from my lips
But those are words I know I’ll never say
Goodbye’s a word my soul has learned to equip
It’s in my tears as you drive away

The final goodbye lay in a teary puddle on the ground
Memories of you fading into the morning mist
As I remember love comes many surrounds
But never in the form of a fist

Dessert

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As some know, I like to try hand at various poetic forms from time-to-time.  Today’s form is called a Super-Tanka. Hmm, I should probably explain a regular size Tanka form first. *dons professor cap and clears throat*

The Tanka, an Asian poetic form very similar to haiku, is a single stanza, 5 line, non-rhyming poem, with a 5-7-5-7-7 syllable count pattern per stanza. Thus a Super-Tanka is two Tanka poems where each can stand alone on its on merit, but when put together side-by-side create a complete poem. The greater the subject difference of the individual Tankas from each other, compared to the whole, the better.

/poetry class

That’s what I asked for, cherries jubilee
Because that’s what I wanted, the taste of heated brandy
Wanted to taste it, sweetness set ablaze
Feel it’s texture on my tongue, a most unique concoction
As it slides slow down my throat, dripping with the sweetest cream

====================

dVerse~ Poets Pub | Poetics– Foodloose

Let The Morning Find Me…

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HAPPY 2012!
With the brand new year upon us, may this be one resolution we all can keep.

Let the morning find me…

…languishing
from a sleep that was enough to feel well-rested, but not lethargic, energized, but not anxious

Let the morning find me…

…knowing
even if the best possible sometimes fails, that the person I find in the mirror has done the best possible.

Let the morning find me…

…living
and not just merely surviving, but joyously thriving, even in the midst of the crazies.

Let the morning find me…

…enticed
to start this day even if the most strenuous thing I have planned to do is vegetate.

Let the morning find me…

…satiated
in that toe curling, back arching, arms and fingers extending to their maximum reach full body stretch way, regardless if there’s someone beside me.

Let the morning find me…

…smiling
that Cheshire cat, absolutely no reason what so ever, but I just can’t seem to stop smile.

Let the morning find me…

…loving

me.

–== == == == == ==–
Submitted to
Jingle Poetry At The Gooseberry Garden — Week 20
Fairytales, My First Time, Hope, and New Year’s Resolutions

Black Man (a Valentine to the Brothers)

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Carrying the past on his spine, but his back in not bowed

You’ve passed him on the streets. You’ve seen him in offices, in schools, in stores. In anyplace and everyplace. There’s something about him-his presence. It’s always been there, but now its something new-fresh-different. The way he occupies your time, your mind, and maybe even your heart. He is all of many, yet one of few. Who is he?

He is Black Man.

Black Man comes in many shapes, many sizes, many colors. He may be a part of the new generation of tomorrow or the old generation of yesterday. He was there at the beginning. He will be there at the end. Be he leader or follower, sinner or saint, Black Man is there.

His skin may be ebony or damn near ivory. His eyes gray or black or any where in between. He may be large in size, but never in ignorance. He may be small in stature, but never in spirit.

His pride is as tall as the redwood. His honor as solid as the oak. His soul as deep as the dark earth his pride grows in and his honor firmly stands upon. His strength inner or outer is as mighty as any hero, fact or fiction. His passions can be as explosive as the erupting volcano, or as quiet as the rising dawn. He may be put down, but as many have learned; Black Man can not be put out.

Black Man has loved-hated, been loved-been hated.
Most of all Black Man has lived, he has endured, he has survived.
He has proven his self worth.

How do I know this? I have been there with him. I have brought him down when he got too high, raised him up when he got too low. I have fought next to him, stood with him, laid beside him. I have often known Black Man better than he has known himself. Who am I? I am his mother, his sister, his wife, his daughter, his friend, his lover.

I am Black Woman and I am proud of Black Man.

I Want You…

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12

.
.
I want you…

I want sapphire skies with diamond eyes
filled with guttural moans and satiated sighs
I want to feel the arc of the moon echoed
in the curve of your spine
I want to feel the breath of your whisper in my ear
screaming that its mine

I want you…

I want to love you with the rising of the sun
and start again when the day is done
I want you to rhyme me in a sonnet
a prose of your own
I want the words to vibrate on my skin
from the bass of your moan

I want you…

I want to run wild in the trap of your gaze
feel the slick of our bodies in a sweaty glaze
I want to hear you scream the words
that would make Mama blush
let the blood flow to your head in a heated rush,
then lick the burn on my abdomen from the carpet plush

I want you…

I want you to fill the void with a dip
then come down lick the cream from my lips
I want to feel us shiver,
feel us tremble, feel us shake
feel the crash to the floor in its wake
go deaf from the scream for its own sake

I want you…

I want you to take me to the brink, risk the cardiac
fuck me ’till I’m flatline,
then fuck me back
I want to feel your body pressed between me and the wall
dependent only on our strength to save us from the fall
Test the limits of our bodies, fight the spasms
roar against the ecstasy, then

  f
    a
      l
         l

into the chasms

I want you…

>========<

dVerse ~Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight