Black Poetry : the little boy next door

Discussion in 'Black Poetry - Get Your Flow On!' started by romusthepoet, Dec 6, 2001.

  1. romusthepoet

    romusthepoet Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    the little boy next door
    by romus simpson

    the little boy next door
    who is four or five
    rolls across the oblivion of your weary eye
    is shadow & shyness
    surrounded in longing
    he conjures
    he is an inventor of tarrifs
    cloud collector
    commands an army of leaves
    a slow driver a diver in the
    cul-de-sac corner lagoon
    a whisp of troubled air across the green afternoon
    he waits for you
    is your dutiful sentinel
    heralds your beautiful coming in his eyes & hands
    watches your car turn into the garage

    he has no father
    no wide thudding heart to pay a ransom for him
    no interest building in a strong gentle hand
    no lap to tumble into

    in may he sees the spring spray colors
    like battalions of brilliant marching men
    whose purpose is somewhere in the mystery of the world
    & how you clockwork come among them like a god whose
    hand he could clandestinely touch
    & 5:30 belongs just to you and him
    the smoke errors in the plantain sky
    20 seconds from the garage to the house
    where you lean away from the day

    he counts your steps as far as he can count
    you smile in courtesy
    & everything is tangerine
    the ballooning street
    cool fires in the palm trees
    bushes that need trimming
    the red roofs the hills behind the homes
    that hint navy blue & hide the universe

    & that little boy next door
    on his bike with his neat hair and eyes
    in his new blue jacket & shoes always untied
    is waiting
    but what strikes you is what is tied to tomorrow
    & another day
    the coarse run in the drowsy traffic
    & the clock impersonally measuring your life
    muddying the pure times with tense faces
    stealing whole bright treks of memory
    collapsing the heart in articulate angled increments
    you are older too soon but cannot stop it
    & there is nothing heavier than your hands
    the exit signs flash years ago

    but that little boy next door watches
    counting your steps looking for your car
    & the short hurl to your front door
    that 20 seconds measured in acquiescing numbness
    the dash devoid of breath & color from the gaudy days’ noise
    you are a train too hurried for the slow rhythms
    of the flowering countryside

    & to the little boy next door
    there is no more beautiful thing than you
    without excuse
    validated in your own language
    unasked
    absolute as a lion

    the flowers are watching you
    like the little boy next door
    & you are lonely like him
    he in the wide empty afternoon among the quiet houses
    you catalogued behind the stoic reflections downtown
    & yes
    the distance across a lawn
    a year a lifetime a ritual that deceives intelligent men
    & the dreams of lonely little boys who lack language
    who watch windows go dark
     
  2. Destee

    Destee destee.com STAFF

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    RomusThePoet ... amazed at your ability to put whole lives into such a few lines, your ability to take me right there and live it all ... every leaf, every wisp of air ... this time was no different ... Thank You.

    :heart:

    Destee
     
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