poem
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The Unknown Woman
Wisdom is an unknown woman her identity absent for too long now a distorted image of degrees and formulas neatly wrapped into the deceptive image of professors and graduates of universities with egos that stand taller than the academic buildings from which they’ve misplaced their minds creativity hung twisted in the silent hallways of repeated ignorance wisdom is an unknown woman hastening to make herself known to those who seek her a radiant beauty of lawful lips she descends into the beautiful body of instruction only the most sincere men are courageous enough to approach her and only the strong can be heard by her for she whispers soft delicacies into ears that wish her breath to brush upon their cheeks but she is abandoned by men who do not delight in her structures who believe her throne is a worthless scepter that she wears like a burden too foolish to know that there is nothing that she cannot carry But fools do not speak the language of wisdom cannot hear the prayers coming from her tongues the songs pouring forth from her words wisdom is an unknown woman to the man to the woman to the person who values the knowledge of custom papers with expensive ink, this they chose over her they cannot see that gold is but a little sand in her sight and that silver is like clay before her because her radiance never ceases and in her hands is unaccounted wealth Continue reading
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Ink Pen
Dear Ink Pen, No, just listen. I want your lips nestled against the collar bone Of this page I don’t care that people do not hand-write anymore I need you nibbling at history and touching passions I desire your soul pressed hard against my fingers I need you touching minds and resurrecting souls In private… Continue reading
blog, blogging, google, ink pen, inspiration, passion, pbs, poem, poems, poetry, spoken word, wordpress, writing, writing pen -
Love Poem
Wanted to jump into memory and photograph pieces of your smile the only cracks worth seeing on someone’s face Didn’t know dimples ran deeper than wells but every time you chuckled my nerves melted underneath my skin Is this Is it real? Could the pull of the wind be the yearning for your laughter? That… Continue reading
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Murder She Wrote
No, it wasn’t suicide the freedom in her chest the genuine in her throat and the explosion of awareness she didn’t try to hide packing a strap never hesitating to open fire leaving trails of Earthquakes lingering at your side pen to paper creating a new world of gun smoke white dope and fienes who… Continue reading
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I’ll Carry It With Me
From the bowels of the deep south To the place of the rising sun She’ll stretch her roots to the ends of the Earth And her scent to the universe edge From the Nile To the Euphrates Her soul is Langston And has grown deep like the rivers On her bark Are the names whipped… Continue reading
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Writing 101 – Assignment #12: Critique a Piece of Work – “We Real Cool”
Today I will be critiquing Gwendolyn Brooks’ poem “We Real Cool” for today’s Blogging U assignment: We real cool. We Left school. We Lurk late. We Strike straight. We Sing sin. We Thin gin. We Jazz June. We Die soon. Gwendolyn Brooks is the renowned poet from Chicago that we have grown to love. In… Continue reading
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Her Skin
She has heard for too long now that her pores bleed the color of slave ships that chains have been seen in her smile that her skin shines like a beacon of shame sprinkled amidst Mississippi cotton fields sometimes her beauty sticks out like a diamond in the ruff they notice her and still she… Continue reading
