Tag Archives: creative writing

I am thinking of a poem

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I am thinking of a poem

Title: I am thinking of a poem

It’s the image or glossy picture of a butterfly in my book of poetry
With a caption saying something simple like;
“There is beauty in the world”

I am thinking of this poem

*image courtesy of google

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Mama

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I think of you when I sleep
Just before my head finally hits the pillow
After a long day of “hard” work
A night of rest becomes a blur
In the mind of my back
(Assuming my back had a mind of its own)

I think of you at dawn
When the girls wake and ask for a cup of hot milk
Their big brown eyes still heavy from 10hours of sleep
I yearn for you to be there taking great care of them
As I roll to the other side and sleepily mumble
“Go to grandma”

I think of you at 7pm on Saturday nights
When I have to scrub their back
And I ask that they bend slightly so I don’t reach so hard
My back belabored from a long pregnancy begs to rest
Cracking with every move I make

I think of you when I sleep
Recapping the day in the front of my mind
Just before my head hits the pillow
And I can’t help but wonder
How different it all could be
If you were here and around

I Am But 5

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Life tells me I am getting old
Everyday a reminder
Gray hairs in places most unimaginable
Backs bent from days of toil and aggression
Many miles run in hopes of staying young
Stress worry and ache all about
Dreams of yesteryears dwindling fast with each tick pulled by tock
I wonder where my childhood went…
… Where did age 15 go?

Yet somewhere a new adventure awaits
Chubby faces and hearty smiles
Telling me I am but 5
The most proper guest at Tuesday evening tea parties
Graceful cheers and raised pinkies remind me
I have still a whole life ahead of me
My age just some marked up number between 1 and more

6/3/13 11:51pm

On The South & West Corner Of The Chi

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As a man he stands
Unsure of his destiny
He has seen it too many times…
Three doors down and a distant cousin twice removed
The 3 year old playing ball in the neighborhood park…

Death flows in his (the) air
Violence calls on his kind
They never last past a certain age
Gang hooligans or not

BOOM!!! A calculated stray flies past
No one sees anything
Terror splatters doom in the noon sky

He is a victim of his circumstances
Birthed into the despair of his vicinity
His innocence (ability) will never be known

In The Face Of War

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In the face of the war…
There are no sore losers…
Nor are there great winners
Not the one whose body hangs highest in the pile…
Lord in his life…
A mere body in death

There are no winners…
In the face of war…
Not the one left desolate at 10
To the echoes of dust and death
He must now learn to live
A child at the start of war
Soon he will be a casualty or the war’s lord

Yellow flowers know the same fate
Blood dripping red in their roots
Trampled fast before a chance at nature’s law…

Generations to come will no doubt hear of the scars
Tales of war on the faces of their history…

*Praying for the people of Kenya*