Friday, February 22, 2008

Poets Wanted: an Opportunity 2 B Published!

I'm just the messenger. A friend shared this with me and I thought this the best place to get the word out. Poets are being sought for the following publication:

Say it Loud: Poems about James Brown.
Edited by: Mary E. Weems, and Thomas Sayers Ellis. We grew up on James Brown’s hit me! When he danced every young Black man wanted to move, groove and look like him. Mr. Brown wasn’t called the hardest workingman in show business because he wasn’t. Experiencing a James Brown show was like getting your favorite soul food twice, plus dessert. His songs, like black power fists you could be proud of and move to at the same time. When Mr. Brown sang make it funky we sweated even in the wintertime. Losing him was like losing somebody in our family. This is a shout out for poems about the impact James Brown had on our lives. Poems that will help people remember, honour, and celebrate his legacy. Don’t be left in a cold sweat, send us your old and new James Brown poems today.

Submission Guidelines: 3-5 Unpublished and/or published poems with acknowledgment included. No longer than 73 lines. Deadline: April 30, 2008 (Receipt not postmark) Send hard copies along with a Word Document and short bio on a CD to: Dr. Mary E. Weems / English Department / John Carroll University / 20700 North Park Blvd. / University Hts., Ohio 44118 / Send via e-mail attachment (Word Documents Only) to: mweems45@sbcglobal.net, and mikeoatman@hotmail.com.
*From website:
http://www.nathanielturner.com/onalmostmeetingalicewalker.htm

SEND

Not long ago, I drank my own personal brand of Kool-Aid (figuratively, not literally ;-) and got brave as hell in the middle of the night. Before I understood what I was doing, I had done it and was subsequently pitched into an abyss that though not quite bottomless, led to a freefall that lasted the rest of the night and much of the morning. Happily, in the end there was minimal trauma and very soon thereafter I found there was never any reason to worry...wouldn't it be nice if hindsight showed up much, much earlier? I hope you enjoy my temporary insanity....


SEND

I clicked the send button, and away flew my confidence
on an unseen wind, that I knew would bring turbulence.
For rashly I’d acted on a whim, now there was evidence
of all that I felt, but had not shared; due to common sense.

The circumstance was, he was my friend who I adored;
but the fact of the matter was, he was oh so much more.
By clicking that button who knew what I’d done;
but I can’t take it back and I’ve nowhere to run.

Metaphorically you see, I’d created an incision
down the center of my heart with surgeon-like precision.
Consequently I’d displayed, for my adored friend to see
my chest filled with hopes, that I’d owned secretly.

Pushing that button had made available for his inspection
the real me, my desires, and my inadvertent deception.
In light of all this I felt ill and quite sick,
And I wished I could pretend it had all been for kicks.

Only seconds ago, clicking send had seemed right
but now I’m stressed out, there’ll be no sleeping tonight.
How to retract it, and keep my friend near
the answer to this dilemma, I’d give everything to hear.

The internet, previously the love of my life
had snagged and betrayed me, and caused me great strife.
To take it all back and return to status quo
for that I’d do anything, I want you to know.

“But wait”, I said, “Wait!”, as a new thought came through
“nothing ventured -- nothing gained”, an old lesson NOT new.
YOU are a catch!”, I told myself then
“and if he can’t see that, then you’re better off friends.”

So though I’m still waiting to hear what he’ll say
I’m no longer dreading things not going my way
If he doesn’t feel the same way that I do
it’ll be his loss not mine, and I know this is true.

I pushed that damned send button, and I’m glad that I did
why sit hoping and praying instead of making my bid.
The worst that can happen is that we’ll cease to be friends
and if that is the case, then I welcome our end.


© Sharon J. All Rights Reserved 2008

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Poem: Black Man


BLACK MAN


Black man so beautiful to me
Deeply rooted
In the rich soil of African land
Tall reaching the sky like trees
Dark and powerful
Carved out of mahogany
With the strength of tribes
Free to be
Black man
You are a gift to me


©Shai Lynn Kai Davis

Artwork: Danny Haygood

She Used Me

This poem was inspired both by my deep devotion to my sweetheart Ali, and Aron Neville's interpretation of the song "Use me up". I was going over our extensive photo collection one day and the song came on the radio as I was looking at this photo of Ali and I. The poem just flowed naturally from there.

She Used Me

She used my brush to paint a masterpiece on the canvas in her belly
Delicate strokes applied in living color within her flesh
She used my pen to write a novel on the pages of her thighs
A manuscript to be read aloud over and over
She used my marker to write a label across her chest
My name in big bold glistening letters
She used my pillar to support her fantasies
Until I made each one come true
She used my key to unlock her inner self
To be the woman of my dreams
She used my ruler to measure our love
Inch by inch as it grew

She yearned to give me her living heart
Even as it beat within her chest but
Her life is much too precious
So she gave me the key
To it instead



Peace and Love,

Alizé (LoversA.blogspot.com)


Poem and Photo: Copyright © 2008 Xavier Pierre Jr. All rights reserved.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Love Suite II: Comfortable Love

It's all about that COMFORTABLE LOVE


You know, that love that has gotten over it's frantic skittish "can't control myself" love? That running into brick walls gettin' bloodied up and still laughin' love?

No I want that, "let's walk hand in hand" kind of love, where I have every confidence I'm her MAN kind of love.

I want to look deep into her eyes and see my reflection there type of thing, to know that she's gone blind to another brother's overtures, you know what I mean? I want to talk about marriage and children and four-oh-one kays, joint checking accounts, two signatures on mortgages and picking out names. I want to come home in the evening from a hard day's work, smell my favorite dish when I hit the door, cooking, but it's the kids battling each other to hug my legs I can't ignore. And then it's her coming around the corner looking all beautifultired, wearing the biggest smile with my name on it just before her lips morph to a kiss with her heart on it.

Gotta have that peace in my spirit, but that movement in my soul, at just the thought of her while at work, when I'm sittin' on hold. And when the boys want to go golf and you say that it's OK, I tell the brothers, "next time" because it's with my girl I want to stay. You see I just won the lottery of love, Superbowl, World Series, NBA Championship of love. Hands held high in victory, I'm pouring champagne, giving television interviews cause I've got the Golden Ticket of love you see!

I want us to plan a trip together, get on a plane and go anywhere to play. Whether it's beach or Vegas or Rockies great mount, being anyeverywhere with her is what I'm all about. I just want to be in PUBLIC with her so that everyone will know, this brother is happily love's prisoner so scoot, skidaddle, just go.

But it's those quiet moments I'll cherish most, as we cuddle in our bed, the way her fingers absently stroke the back of my head as we watch some really bad movie, you know something like Judge Dredd? Because it really doesn't matter what we do or do not do. It's about being together, "it's about me and you. "

I'll massage her sore shoulders and paint her toenails, wash her hair, do laundry with her so that togetherness never fails. Nothing that she desires of me, will ever be denied. My boys will think I've been whipped, hope they'll learn love's stronger than pride. And she will run my bathwater and ask about my day, tied to each others past, present and future in every imaginable way. She picks me up when I am down, I lift her up as my crown and together there is nothing that we can't do. My heart beats, she is the sound.

And when I lay me down to sleep and beg my soul for Him to keep, it's her I immediately thank Him for as I drift into sleep so deep. Even there she is ever with me, filling reality then dreams, from twilight to day light giving me a reason to wake. Because I don't want to sleep on this love this COMFORTABLE LOVE, but want to run around in it all day. It feels like a favorite pair of jeans, shoes worn in just the right way, it's love that's the end of the search, it's here that I'm committed to stay.




Song of Solomon 7:1-9



©SojournerG 2008 All rights reserved






Sunday, February 17, 2008

Ignorance is Bliss









I wish...
I could to tell you all the things i feel
to escape to a new place
to remember again and yet forget
to succumb at will
to replace
bad memories and regrets
to sneak back
to let loose
to streak through life
to cruise
to embrace and lose myself in a dream meant for two
the one that consists of me and you
i wish, but it is not my will
cuz the truth is...i took the red pill

pink notebooks


pink notebooks

i wrote what i felt
through yesterdays
my voice still lingers
and past poems have been sung
like singing albatosses

oh those little pink notebooks
the pinkish pages need more of my words
so they could hum my voice
with tears of a smiley smile coming in
and my heart is filled with drifting draft verses

almost as prayers
but they are poetry that is just written
down from the very dirt of my soul
and yet this pen has lead me
all the way to the heaven sky

i am not falling
i am siting
writing through my srength
on a dark pink line
painting my words into soft whispers

suddenly singing like angels
only in silence
cos i hear my own voice
that dashes away into a reader's heart!
~

©2008 Kai C.


Darfur Diary

They threw my daughter's body down the well
To poison it, and we had no water.
They shot my husband, and I cried for three days.
I heard of Americans movie stars protesting for me.
And the American President saying he will save me.
But then they took much money and are silent.
Something called "Olympics," in Peiking.
Where people run when a gun fires.
I am too tired to run when guns fire.
I would not do well in this Olympics.