Black Poetry : My Man


Well-Known Member
Mar 17, 2001
Minneapolis, MN
Director, Community Employment Strategies
My man...

He takes me
to the extreme
wears me out
until I can't move
and my limbs become weak
and numb

He holds me close... tight...
and he makes me do things
I've never done before
there's nothing quite like
the experience...

there are joys and
there are pains -- I've had
each with him


... and the way he introduces
me quickly to cool air

mmmmm. mmmmm. mmmmm.

...while he captivates my thoughts
making me alert; heightening
my awareness

He allows me to do what
I want to do
...when I want to do it...

yet he takes into consideration
my inexperience
and is careful not to overpower
me with eagerness

I wonder how long my man
is going to
do right by me? I'll never
know when his type will
turn the other cheek
and become
wicked or too rough
to handle

...maybe even unmanageable

Some say "ride or die"
...for me, I'd rather ride than die...

I respect my man
because I know he
wields a lot of force
...and although he
has no feelings to
reciprocate in return

~I know my man ~
because I continue to
learn my man...and I change
when he changes

My Suzuki
My Bandit
My Man



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