Head aches Mind's numb World spins Eyes flutter Words disappear Oh! Don't know What to do Better just to Go with the flow Right? And see what It brings
It’s Time (Poem #7)
I don’t know how to say this
How do I find the words
The courage to stand back up
The strength to continue on
The ground became my comfort
I’d been thrown down so many times
They think they can control me
They think I’m just pathetic
Unable
Extremely small
Try me again
Come at me
I will stand my ground
I will keep my head high
You don’t get to do this
I am not playing pretend
I know exactly how to do this
I know the words to say
I am standing head high with courage
I will continue on
The ground is just my altar
Cause the more I’m on my knees
What I do while I am down
I will continue to worship
I will continue to go down
So that my Lord will be lifted high
It isn’t how I got down
But how I get up
God is my strength
My courage
My life
If I stay down it is so His glory is lifted higher
I am strong
Through Christ alone I stand
Bachelors
Clothes on chair
A cluster of all the things on table
Half eaten packets of snacks lying around
Mismatched pillow covers
It was a room of two bachelors
Who tied the knot just 4 months ago
Rainer Ep: 7
The world was void of color,
Except for the navy banners that glistened in the daylight,
Or the light blue outfits that the workers wore every day
Blue reigned superior amongst the Grey’s and the blacks,
But as the woman looked upon the staggering blue,
She did not see luxury
But behind the blue, a vicious controlling state.
You’ve Got Me Walking On Fire!
Tenth Hour
You’ve Got Me Walking On Fire!
I awake in the silent darkness of night. I hear and feel things, from which most would take flight. I don't have a friend nor a helpmate in sight. I must face the solemn torment and harsh reality of my plight. You've got me walking on fire, I can't sleep at night! You've got me burning in ire, they're after my life! You've got me walking through fire! with pain sharp as a knife, I don't know if you are with me, LORD, but I am dying inside. In this deadly strife, I'm walking on fire, until this torment subsides. You have been with me, every moment of my prime, but, what I have seen, LORD, LORD! There is no reason - no rhyme. I'm living in pure horror, these are the worst of times, I can't reach hope for fear is blocking my contact with the divine. I've come too far to turn around, My feet are standing on shaky ground. Nothing I explain seems sane or sound, If I should scream from fright, I would be seized and bound. You've got me walking on fire! You've got me burning in fire! They are after my life! You've got me walking in fire! The pain stabs like a knife! You've got me where I can't escape. Please, have mercy Abba Father! In your hands you hold my fate. You said, "When the enemy comes in like a flood you'd raise a standard against them." I don't see the standard, Baruch Ha Shem. Do you see they are spreading themselves like a green bay tree laughing, mocking you... Mocking me. How I long to see them learn how powerful you are and that they will surely burn... "The Fire Next time," (James Baldwin). Compton, CA 90222 June 22, 2019@15:48
Stuck and Locked – Hour 6
So really small So far away
No feeling at all With no-one to play
Only one is left Am I locked out?
And that is loneliness Is there nothing about
Stuck at a place An outcast like me?
That means nothingness Or am I just weird
Because I feared
The future of me?
Whenever I see you
You sit there, laughing and talking to others.
You once said, our relationship was being brothers
And yet, I don't see that relationship in us.
What do I wrong? Whatever it is, please, we can discuss
And talk it all out. Still, you locked me out.
prompt #9, hour 7 ~ resurrection fern (unfinished)
Bloodlines (revised last stanza)
It took a move east to resurrect
my Southern roots. To remind me
of the Kentucky in my bloodline
the racists I know well. How they
flourish in the fertile hatred of today.
Always there are reasons. So they tell me.
It took the familiarity of mountains
I had never seen their hazy blue ridges
to heal my seared wounds. Allow me grief.
Worn tops softened by water, these
are the mountains my grandmother
who would not watch a black newscaster
crossed to Oklahoma. They are my bones.
And now the children of her children’s
children’s children mingle black brown white
like the soft silt beneath the resurrection fern.
They paint the landscape with their laughter
in the bright languages of love. Far away from then.
Here among the spruce and fir, hawthorns
berry after dogwood. Tulip poplars reach out
above the ridgelines of the old houses beneath.
A man in Roanoke writes the stories of nooses
and the men & women who hung from them.
Time is a river that erodes the shores of memory.
This is not the state where my young lover
fled a car that ran him over, driver laughing.
Nor is this the state where a friend was warned
Don’t be caught here after the dark you resemble.
That South too is a thread in my mother’s cord.
I have fed from the bloody hands of ‘good people.’
I have noted the excuses for their hatreds, all
in the name of some white god. Perhaps the god
of my grandmother, but not her children’s
children’s children. It took a move east
for me to remember this.
Something more than blood lives within these hills
Something resurrected not from the bones of hate
but from the ashes of forgiveness, that warmed
the coloured mud we grew from. Like the grief I hold
within me, grief I cannot give a name to.
Like the nameless Southern colours neither black
nor white. Like the soft blue mountains
that have seen it all before. Like memory
returning home.
Hour 7 – Hidden
Hidden
I don’t think that you have
inspected the area very carefully, as you
have apparently not seen, and even over-looked,
the one you are seeking. Here, right in
front of your face, the
Love which you are longing for, standing out like ink
splattered on a white wall. I’m here. Oh, well.
This poem is a Golden Shovel on the children’s poem Hiding by Dorothy Aldis, using the line “Have you looked in the ink well?” The original poem can be found here: https://allpoetry.com/Poem/8605367-Hiding-by-Dorothy-Keeley-Aldis?page=4 A Golden Shovel is a poetic form I first learned about during the 2017 Poetry Marathon and have enjoyed using ever since.
Blue
Her eyes were a watery blue,
Reflecting her emotions,
Her gentleness for me,
Her granddaughter.
His eyes were marble blue,
Reflecting his appreciation of life,
His love of friendship with me,
His old friend.
Her eyes were deep blue,
Reflecting her inner strength,
The gifts of grace she shared with me,
Her godchild.
His eyes are sky blue,
Reflecting his quiet presence,
The strength of his soul as he loves me,
His companion.
Blue eyes…windows to souls whom I adore…
Eve Remillard
6/22/19
Let me in
Let me in, darling
Don’t lock me out
I lost my spare key
Took you for granted
Let me in, darling
A second chance
Dark wolves encircle
You are my safety