Venomous words linger even the morning after,
And when even is come, more tears run—
Angered silence constricts the tongue, and words are hardly spoken;
Though remnants of love remain, it could never be the same —
For the heart weeps, and the spirit is broken.
Tag: Writing
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Your movements were fluid.
Looking into your eyes I cried,
And you wiped away my tears and kissed me.
The touch of you moved my soul gracefully;
See me now in my weeping
As I kneel besides you sleeping,
Your memory infused in me
And a part of my being;
Rest my love, until the coming
Of that glorious dawning,
When we are again reunited in the heavens.
It was you — it was always you;
Side by side I would have died with you,
Holding hands and in my last breaths
Reaffirming my endless love,
Leaving behind the relics of us;
Kiss me one more time —
Even in death let me feel your lips against mine,
Before the warmth of your body leaves you
And I am rendered listless,
Left to stumble around in the wilderness
Of the harshest winters.
Lost without you, I am so lost without you.
For a time, life had yielded sweetness,
But now I taste of its bitterness,
And my aura slowly withers —
What can I render to you now that you are gone?
A thousand roses laid gently
Around your headstone?
I must consort with the angels
To make inquires of your soul
And to send you a message of love and of longing;
Oh but for the day of that glorious dawning!
Until then I will carry you in my heart
Through rivers and streams,
In deep valleys and dreams, you are with me.
Winter again approaches;
I will warm us by a fire
And sing songs of our love together;
I will commune with you
And take you under the twilight
In your white dress — your hair pulled back,
Your neck adorned with a beautiful gold necklace,
The winds blowing through your dark long curls
That flow in length like graceful waterfalls;
We will dance and after rededicate our vows.
You belong to me and I belong to you.
Do you take this woman to have
And to hold, for richer for poorer,
In sickness and in health,
To love and to cherish in life and in death?
I do. Eternally, through deep waters
And through fire,
Through the hottest summers,
And through the coldest winters,
You remain my only desire;
Now kiss me as I adorn you
With a new ring, you are more beautiful
Than a blue diamond sparkling.
Whisper to me when I am lonely —
Of you I will write beautiful poetry
And remember the first day I beheld you in glory;
It was in the sixth month that you came to me,
And by the the twelfth we were in love
Together forever inseparably. -
In eternal sleep the silence keeps,
Those at the wake, awake they weep;
In wooden chairs the bitterly weep,
In fedora hats and veils of black.
She screams his name in writhing pain —
The gloves of silk the tears they stain.At the final viewing it starts to rain;
In autumn winds it starts to rain.
They eat and drink and speak of him
But never knew his suffering;
The nights he toiled with the soul embroiled,
In torment deep and anguished sleep.The winds of change — the winds of change
Though he prayed, they never came.
In a lilac field they found him lain,
For it was the night before that he was slain;
In the throes of death with shallow breaths,
He called her name; his mother’s name.
And saw an archangel with eyes of flames
With broad white wings, descend from the heavens
And comfort him; a beautiful angel did comfort him.He prayed:
God forgive my sins, and in your light welcome me in
As I now go back to the dust from where we all begin.
Amen.Lying in a wooden box
they pause to look at him,
Eyes closed and still,
with discolored skin.
On his folded hands spill
The tears of his brethren
And the rest of his so called kin
who really never knew him.
They never knew him.From worn hymnals they turned
To page fifteen and started to sing;
After, two black horses pulling a
White carriage is what carried him,
leading the procession of much weeping
Tears were carried in cold winds
Through drizzle sweeping —
And at that place they lowered him;
With tearful eyes they lowered him.
With red roses with long stems;
With beautiful roses with long stems. -
The winds that blow incite the crow
Had not I seen I would not know
Her eyes they stare with trance like glare
As I approach I quell my fear
In whispered breaths I count my steps
To inquire of her the deepest depths
She drew me nigh to see my eyes
Resiliency she said she sensed
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Long after your aura lingers.
I long for you in dimly lit rooms —
The essence of your passion still
Tingling on the tips of my fingers.
The waves of your substance encompass me
And I am immersed in you deeply;
The depths of me I cannot hide.
See me now in my naked vulnerability
Without my pride, without doubt,
Without my tall defensive walls.
I strip myself of insecure ruminations
And with love I give you my all.
At the end of the world when everything around us falls,
It is then we will rekindle our eternal vows —
Inseparable in the heavens, your hair
Falling off the edges of the clouds;
Our story written by the hands of
Angels with golden pens, read aloud again and again.
Your comeliness rivaling that of even the stars;
With tears of joy I behold you…
My dear woman, I love you.
Adorned in white you are my morning light
That vanquishes the torment of the night.
I hold on to you in the storm;
I call for you loudly and you reach for me.
The fire that is in you is also the fire that is in me.
You are a wonderful mystery and beautiful naturally.
Almond eyes across the room stare …
Your hair like a thousand waterfalls in spring after a long winter thaw,
Curling on the way down with thunderous applause.
Forever I am yours. Eternally I am yours. -
Two levels from hell at 3 A.M.
She drinks again and thinks of him
Forever scarred once gentle heart
Now cold as ice and triple darkThe darkness stalks
The darkness stalks
With red eyes shot
The darkness stalksHer spirit wails
Her spirit wails
With deep inhale
Her spirit wailsA love was lost
A love was lost
And now her soul is torn apartAnd in those tears she sheds her tears
From pretty eyes that age with years
Behind her eyes is where pain lies
And Hestia’s flame of many firesImmersed in pain
That terrible pain
She’s tasted hell
Again and againFrom birth to death in torturous depths
The soul it weeps in labored breaths
She walks across in measured steps
The treacherous bridge above the abyssTwo levels from hell
Two levels from hell
Within four walls is where she dwells -
Though you cry,
you are beautiful.Though you are weary,
you are resilient in your journey.Though you suffer,
you will survive the winter.Though lovers have fallen away,
you have recaptured the essence of your aura.Though you are immersed in anguish,
the fire in your eyes is not extinguished.Though you are ridiculed,
you will emerge triumphant.Though you endure torment,
the strength of your spirit will not relent.Though you have wept for many seasons,
now is the time of your healing.Though you have suffered injustice,
a reckoning is on the horizon.Though you feel unloved,
the universe cradles you in her womb
And Polaris shines upon you.Though you contemplate eternal sleep,
your heart still beats, and you are not weak.Though you are sorrowful,
your spirit will not wither.Though they try to confine you,
you are blue fire, subjugating detractors
and illuminating the darkest depths of deep waters. -
Searching for light I plead my cause and plight. The vast darkness of a deep well, my road of suffering is that of hell. I have seen with my eyes and heard with my ears the cries and screams of the afflicted, sorrowful moaning and the deep bellowing of the tormented. The voices of their pain fill the void and ascend to the heavens. The stench of it burns the nostrils. Fear stalks me and apprehension holds me against my will. I must cross over the abyss, or forever I will remain in darkness. Vile beasts wander aimlessly in search of sustenance; a songbird refreshes my resolve. My lamp is dim and my oil is low. I must move faster; I must make haste. In my pocket she sings—again my songbird sings. We are both weary but hopeful. She will cross over to the other side with me. We must make it over or perish here in the land of desolation. I thought I saw the treacherous bridge, but my eyes deceive me. Still we slog on, for we are replete with determination and hardened in our travail. I see the bridge now; that treacherous bridge over the abyss. We make ready for our journey over. Yes, we will cross over, Songbird and I. She peeks out briefly, her beak resting on the edge of my worn and rugged pocket. A new song is sung.
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Blood of the fallen runs on the alter of vengeance
Eyes of fire replay their last moments
The tears that fall are the final expulsion of agony
We cry no more but see the kindling of our glory
Embers light up the dark night
The wailing of grieving mothers is the essence of our plight
Intuition is our vision even if we lose our sight
Last agonizing breaths of our ancestors absolutely indicts
The generations of slave masters
The hell of our lives trivialized through lying tongues and murderous eyes
The wicked intent of their hearts pulling on the woven fabric
Of the very flag of which they hide behind
We are tired but resolved
Hear it in our sighs
For the children have seen strange fruit
With broken necks and bulging eyes as their father’s drove by
Instilling fear year after year each season
Beginning with the commencement of tears
If there is indeed an almighty God
The anxiety of our children will not go unpunished
We have survived many violent summers
And the fire of resilience has warmed us in the coldest winters
In their last moments the beloved stood under the shade of canopies
Hanged on the branches of towering trees
The same place they were whipped unmercifully
The trees left as witnesses with splatter from the blood of tortured bodies
In their deep roots they retained the tormented screams
And did not bear sweet fruit again
They slowly withered with the discoloration of their leaves
Mothers fell to their knees and cried out for their sons
While their daughters tried to comfort them
For everything under the heavens there is a beginning and an end
The ghosts of the oppressed and the afflicted
Roam freely in the vast fields of plantations
And among the aged towering trees where pain was inflicted
The soil where they toiled infused with sweat and blood
If you listen closely their songs can be heard
Hands with many scars and eyes blurred
In unbearable heat they yet toiled under the overseer’s gun
Seeing the blood run from the hands of even the little ones
Their mothers sneaking to tend to their wounds with love
The towering trees witness their sorrow from above
Intimate Compositions 