The Poetry Marathon

Poem 4

I stop first by the church for help for aid
I want to find her family to rest
To put this sad body inside its grave.

“See here young man
Your heart is full of good
But put your Christian charity
Where a good Christian should.

You find a body in the day
It smells of rot
Begins its decay.

You want someone to know this woman is dead
But this is no godly woman son
Her gloves are lace
Her dress is torn
I am sure this a woman of scorn
A whore.

Leave this body I will place it in the ground.
But I will be given no trouble to track her kin down.”

Be she a whore or be she not cannot
I accept this line of thought and belief.

I gather my cart carrying body
The cart laid heavy with mysteries grief.

25 hours and a hole

We pack the car

Sandwiches and all

I wave to my house

Before day fall

Every once in awhile

The littlest one wakes up

From a bump under the backseat

Tire

We only made 10 stops that day

4 bathroom breaks

3 to fill up the tank

2 to stretch our legs

And 1 by cops asking where we were

Headed

It takes 25 hours

And too many Disney movies

To see a hole in the ground

PROTECT THE CHILDREN

Leave them in awe of your determination.

Give them a lesson on your resilience.

Teach them to hold space for your presence.

Lead them towards an openness that closes the door to perceptions.

Hold them gently within the moments you share.

Leave them with a legacy to carry when you transition and the physical can no longer be there.

Give them a playbook to guide them towards self-sufficiency.

Teach them the truth about their ancestry and the power running through their veins.

Hold them in times of sorrow and pain.

Leave them better than you found them, so rejection doesn’t drive them insane.

Give them praise as they develop into their own uniqueness.

Teach them love is not conditional but transformative in each individual.

Dear Torri Prompt 4

Dear Torri,

No one ever forced you in a cage.
You did so willingly. You did so, thinking you were different. You did so, thinking your love was special. You did so thinking you were. You created these stories, and started to believe them. You were always creative, so creative you could run on words, no pavement was needed to ground you. Words with no foundation, words with no actions. You must have been insane, girl. Now when you look back you laugh at that loss. It makes you uncomfortable, that death. That death of that loving girl that trusted love. That death of that loving girl that wanted to look good for someone else.

Now you have no space left. You clutter it up with art. You create in that space you put someone else in. You have always been a smart girl in what you were smart in.

Now instead of entertaining, you share. You deny anyone else from coming in, not because you are undeserving but because they are. They will all desire you for this, but stay strong you smart girl. Recognize they are only interested because they romanticize the idea of you. So create away in all the beauty that you are for the world to see but never allow anyone to take up space in your soul.

Dear Torri, you dear sweet girl….were never designed to have a roommate.

Grandpa Gaius

Grandpa Gaius,

Last night, your children showered

Earth on your mortal home.

The last they’ll ever do for you.

I’m sorry I wasn’t around to say farewell.

I’m sorrier I couldn’t save you on your sick bed.

Death bed?

I watched your body breathe in oxygen.

I doubt that oxygen was of God.

I couldn’t save you.

 

Grandpa Gaius,

I remembered how we drank Pepsi

Together, as we fixed our eyes on the travesty they call Nollywood movie.

But you didn’t care. You enjoyed every moment with glee.

The smile on your face

Was comforting each time I paid you a visit.

 

Grandpa Gaius,

I’m not sad you left this corrupt world.

No, I’m happy because you’ve found peace.

Last night on your bed brought tears to my eyes.

I couldn’t even say goodbye.

Your sons wept into a new day,

And tried to keep this away from mom.

She too, felt it in her bones.

You broke her.

You broke us all.

 

I’m sorry Grandpa,

We’re trying to fight the covid-19;

We’re losing pretty badly.

 

Grandpa

Hello, it’s me again,

I think of you often

There are signs everywhere

of the love that you left

and the tokens of affection.

Lives were touched

even those who can’t remember

Those you have helped

or just crossed your path

The church pews were filled

mans many stories shared

You would have loved the fellowship

they responded to you even after

You wouldn’t recognize this world

but would have appreciated that it goes on

You’ll be glad to know

they haven’t ruined Star Trek yet.

Haiku for 2020

Corona virus
Protests in the street
Kidnapped caged children

The Lost Words (Hour 4)

Jisike, you are the friend who chose to foldaway

 

Truth found us in the beginning

Its presence, unwelcome

Its garment of honour, invisible

The invitation to the unity of birth, void

 

But we tarried

 

We were nascent beings, volatile and transient

We stood always with hairs in the sky

If we have a date with truth tonight again

They will be rehearsing our beautiful songs

 

And you chose to travel

 

Truth will find us midway still

Truth will find us in the end

Those beautiful songs must sing themselves

Those dreams built on sand dunes will remain

Not to be buried in the cemetery of lost words

 

Hour 4

Faye, I need to use your words
this morning.
No statement has ever made more sense
than the gaseous courage of your voice.

I can visualize these words.
This scene.
The tandem feeling of loss and
Losing.

What wonders language may create in the
Mortal version of combat.

I wonder if I still have this document
somewhere on my computer,
maybe in a folder marked sad?

Sad is the only word.
Not wearisome
Worrisome
Fearsome
Or unfabulous.

But the standard
Sadness.

Letter to my Love!

Dear Love,

Waking this morning without you,
I am lost,
Like a boat adrift,
In the blue ocean of Nottingham sky.

I am missing you the way, an orange misses its skin, once peeled,
That is all there is to say.

Just this:

I miss the way,
Your love tethers me,
But does not bind me,
To the Earth.

Your sweetheart,
Dimple.