Travel

Two women waited at a bus stand
The young one wanted to go to Canada
The older one dreamed of New York
The young one said "This place has nothing to offer me, it's a dead end"
The older one agreed as the young one boarded the Bayfield bus
And she went back to Spieghtstown
Still dreaming of New York
I hope they both find destination and destiny
Waiting at the end of the line.

Life...matters

All life matters
from conception
to the grave
no matter what color
language
affirmation
education
affiliation
or ethnicity
if it lives and breathes
it matters
if it's alive
who is anyone to kill
or to pick and choose
which one is superior
or inferior
or civilized
or has the right to life
listen to what you are saying
look at the signs you carry
the causes you march for
if you say all life matters
you can't pick and choose
whose life you save
~Selah

soul traveling

if soul traveling is real

i want to take that journey on a one-way ticket

see the earth from sky view and dance among the planets

weightless and unrestricted by the gravitational pull of land

i want to escape these limitations

and live like I was meant to

because caged birds can sing but they can’t soar with clipped wings

so if soul traveling is real

i will fly

          

                  

Mornings

On dark mornings

I layer my delicate frame in silk and linen garments

that shield me from the eyes of ravenous wolves

in sheep’s clothing

whose predatory instincts trail the scent of fresh femininity

causing them to commit crimes against womanhood.

With no man to protect me from their heinous ways 

As I walk through empty alleys and streets where they lie in wait for me

I hide in the shadow of the Almighty

becoming invisible

only the light that surrounds me is seen

and I go on my way without fear

knowing that I am safe.

                   

 

I Could

I could bloom here

in this concrete soil

with its steel skyline

and endless waves of people walking the pavement

going underground to get from point A to B to C

sometimes stepping on one another

without saying excuse me

making no eye contact

but connected at the root

I could get used to climbing several flights of old stairs

crossing the street to do laundry

alongside big butt menopausal women with graying locs

people cursing each other

in front of China King

and Ma’s old stoop

watching the cat who sleeps curled up in the barber shop window

in the afternoon sun

I could bloom here

in the cold

like a winter rose without thorns

trusting the universe to protect me

from danger

in this concrete soil

rising

Fall

I love when the season changes
to fall
with all of its colors
and layers...
stripes
plaids
leggings and boots
on running feet
hats and scarves
wrapped around to keep warm
in a cold world
where nobody cares
a coat is my best friend at anytime
it waits for me
holding me close in the rain
at midnight
deep pockets keep secrets
loose change
and a house key
fall with its dried leaves
exposed twigs
and open sky
everything moves faster
but I wish people would slow down
and enjoy the beauty of the daytime
orange to amber to brown
the colors of life
the colors of the earth
the colors of me
in the fall

My Other Life

The other shoes you could have walked in

instead of the ones you chose

could have taken you to the ends of the world

taking bold steps

instead of small ones

walking through real seasons

and not phases of the whims of the moon

those other shoes were waiting

but you were afraid to try them on

too afraid of what others would say

not feeling good enough

strong enough

just not enough

settling to wear shoes that didn’t fit your life

walking in hallways you were never meant to travel

and cutting off your own air

but you still have a chance to get new shoes

and walk in the snow and rain

maybe the beach too

pick a pair and try them on

jump, run, dance, skip

in your new shoes

time has passed but it’s never too late

don’t be so hard on yourself

if you don’t try you never know

if those other shoes you haven’t tried

will fit today.

grounded

i am a poet deep in thought

waiting for the next line

the next rhyme

the next time i write something it will be from wisdom’s gate

and not what you expect

random thoughts ready to take flight

even though I am grounded

my soul can still travel

beautiful black girl

 beautiful black girl…

daydreaming of unexpected treasure washed upon the shore

randomly gathering shells and relishing the days of no worries, concerns or cares

beautiful black girl…

innocently digging holes in the sand

running from the waves on bandy legs like a sandpiper bird

never knowing that the waters of life will catch her

soon enough

lost in the motion of her thoughts that carry her heart to distant places

returning with the tide

and going back out to sea again

beautiful black girl…

see yourself as more than what the world says that you are

the thoughts of your Creator towards you outnumber the grains of sand in your pail

how wonderful you are to Him

be true to yourself and to your dreams

and always keep a smile

as you chase the tide

moon dancing

let’s go dancing on the moon

all by ourselves

moving and grooving to the vibration of the stars

catching stardust between our toes

let’s jump from galaxy to galaxy

sky trip above the clouds

and take a lunar expedition

let’s see if there are really any other people out there

in the universe who believe in being free

dancing on the moon with no gravity to hold us down

seeing earth at a distance

from God’s view

let’s go dancing on the moon

all by ourselves

moving and grooving

to the vibration

of

the

stars…

Day #7

Awakening
on the eve of something better…
an old thing always passes away
as we cry and grieve what was
bury the dead
and scatter the ashes
we come to realize that what we really miss
was what we only thought we had
and bask in the memories of an illusion
filled with created imagery
and crafted lunacy
finally reality sheds light
and we see the truth about ourselves and others
and learn that we deserve more.
selah…

(c) 2012 PoetryofMotion!
All Rights Reserved

poetry

poetry is love

like a summer rain watering my soul

in a dry land

making metaphors grow and caress the mountaintops with laughter

inner beauty coming to light on the printed page

lighting the dark places of my life with revelation

changing rhythms with peaks of distinction

carrying away all of my worries

one

word

at

a

time…