When she can’t be strong for another,
who becomes the rock for her?
Can she find a friend in a heartbeat,
or leave with naught beneath her feet?
Will she be relic of a past milked, forgotten,
stripped of honor, beaten
Or be bathed in mercy, grace, charity,
the cloak of favor and humanity?
Compassion lives, yet she hangs by a thread,
when the flame of love now ceases to be fed.
Snow isn’t always white
The tellers of Snow White lied
A blower comes to do its job
The sidewalk’s never fair
Black is never vile
It’s how the earth began
Whether this be your creed or not
It came from up above
Dark isn’t always evil
Deeds beneath its cover, perhaps
Your heart that’s dark just might be
The sign your pain won’t wane
Blood isn’t always red
The nobles will have us know
Nor does having it make you human
The ruthless show no shame
Snow isn’t always white
If the seven dwarfs but knew
Innocence is neither eternal
Nor happiness the end
rain, rain go…… and wait
come again another May –
a rainbow-bespectacled bride once cried
how could she know…?
the rain was but a harbinger
storms stirred in impatient cauldrons
dwarfing the weeping clouds
she paid great heed
to her seed she smiles now –
the very mirror of her juvenile naivety –
visibly let down at the clouds gathering
she asks “why today Nana, why?”
“treasure this moment, Solange
as you’d treasure none else
hindsight is 20/20
woulda danced in that rain years ago”
in that silver moment
that begets the blinding darkness
secrets are revealed
the heavens grumble in anger
and explode in thunder
sending squirrels to burrows
some dangers quicken with
the charmer’s charm
deeply entrenched in rain-soaked backyards
others averted – freed slaves
from fetish constructions
and jolting “sleepers” from slumber
in that one instant
imminently dead men are given life
yet some receive the fatal sentence
This is the final guest post on my 1st blogging anniversary list of poems. I saved it for the last because I know many can identify with the sentiments here and might get some encouragement here too. And guess what? This was written by Yemie (who still hasn’t convinced me why she shouldn’t take poetry more seriously).☺
Thanks girl for who you are – a big support and source of encouragement. With all the positive energy radiating from you, no ”negative ion” stands a chance.
Dear friends, I present to you again, Yemie!
Winning Wayfarer
I am strong
Am I?
I may well be wrong
Aren’t I?
With fear a constant companion
A strange bedfellow
How do I emerge a champion?
I wonder, I bellow
I am a mere mortal
Conflicted, unsure
Crouched at Earth’s portal
A fish, washed ashore
Will I get through the journey ahead?
My feet will not move, not even a step
I need to be held and led
Yellow-bellied, and in desperate need of help
‘Let the chips fall where they may
Your inner fear, keep at bay
Go at it hammer and tongs, as you journey along the way’
A little voice in my head did say
Waves of emotions surge
Anger, courage and hope merge
A fire is stirred and it glowers
I rise, free from all encumbrances
My strides are sure and purposeful
My soul rejoices, melodies from my heart ring
I am bursting forth with vitality, joyful
As I make my way onwards, soaring upon Eagle’s wings
I yell out in victory
No longer will I whimper in entreaty
I bask in my moment of glory
A wayfarer, adrift upon life’s trajectory
The past is a foreign country
No boundaries
Except my own limitations
No passport required
Adventures take me to places
Of delights and darkness
Each night I travel
To yet another country
The future was just a dream
Of existence
Travelling distances
Of time and space
People I meet along the way
Some just pass by
Others stay a while and walk
With me, sharing my time there
Some sadly depart,
Our souls entwined
For but a moment,
Lingering, living, laughing,
Until the time comes to depart,
The last kiss,
The last touch,
The last smile.
I hope our paths will cross
Again in the future.
Postcard memories I hold
Within my heart,
At times I take them out
And ponder them,
I can never go back
To those foreign lands,
Some best forgotten,
Best left behind,
Always moving forward,
Never back
I’m a foreigner speaking a language
Of emotion and sentiment,
Of pain and anguish,
Of desires and disappointments.
Have I seen you along the way?
Have I yet to meet you?
Are you here with me now?
Walk with me, let’s chat a while
And share postcards,
Stay with me
And let’s travel together
In this foreign country of ours.
Today’s guest post is from my adorable “weirdo” Amity. 🙂 I just love her writes. They leave you thinking and wondering….who really is Amity? And when you think you’ve begun to understand, she wows you by introducing her alien friends (her muses I suppose), who often decide if, when and what she writes. 🙂
Don’t we just love Amity?
Messieurs et dames, here is Amity, doing what she knows to do best – wow us. 🙂
Just What If….
What if black was really white and white green?
Would it make a difference?
Would the black mamba be as gentle as a dove?
What if the sky was green and grasses blue?
Would it change the force of nature?
Would the sun wither in season?
What if your skin was red and mine pink?
Would we love more?
Would there be peace in the world?
What if the rainbow was colourless and the butterflies grey?
Would the rain still know when to stop?
Would life still be beautiful?
Just what if…?
This is an older post that first appeared on 21st January 2015. I’m revisiting it today, because…..well, I am in the green mood today. Have fun reading it again.
I am green
Not with envy
But with life
I am fertile
I am fresh
I am full
I lack not
Want not
Mourn not
I embody newness
I speak growth
Goodness, hope
I am green
I seek life
I seek peace
I am as the olive branch
I welcome
With open arms
This next guest post is by The Short Black Girl, who simply wants to be known as Me. Me writes from her soul and you can tell she has a beautiful heart. In this poem about self-discovery, you will meet her and perhaps understand that all of us have our foibles, no matter what facade we exude. Enjoy!
Finding Me
In moments of wait,
When I, turned up
Against the ticking clock,
Tick- tock, tick- tock,
Grow scared and weary,
Alone, and forgotten,
Waiting for hope,
Waiting for joy,
Waiting for love,
And promises and dreams;
I suck on breath,
Yet I wait to die–
I am always waiting;
For inchoation, for the end.
Through cacophonic melodies
Chaos and peace
Dawn turns to dusk
Hide, seek; moments become memories.
So I get lost sometimes
In the endless wait;
Who was I, who am I,
And even tomorrow,
Will I matter?
More questions, and I wait
Again. Waiting is lonely,
And Change empties me,
Yet I wait, again and again–
For the excitement of anticipation
The numbness of uncertainty,
The chance of a new beginning,
Alone, by myself.
Because people
Take away the magic–
Of the frantic heartbeat
And the wrecking nerves,
The praying lips
And the eyes, awake and keen.
I wait,
For every time I get lost
In the sudden swiftness of change
I find myself a little bit more.
The things I fear
More than death:
In the end,
Not to have lived at all
For my young ‘uns
That they be not robbed of innocence
Ere they grasp
The ‘What,’ ‘When,’ Why’ and ‘How’
Of my Maker
That my name be found not
In His Book of Life
Oh, these things, I fear
Much more than life itself
Or even the absence of it
Zika's Musings 