Quiet Poetry Lounge : The Sun...Rises

baller

Well-Known Member
REGISTERED MEMBER
Jan 28, 2001
3,805
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the near north
The Sun…Rises
(Inspired by the novel: The Book of Negroes)

She lAmEnTeD death
—The sadNESS descending upon her soul

The Sun…Rose

Soothing melodies danced
As humming birds romanced
The sweet nectar of morning’s sunrise

Drumming(s) of over-lapping waves
Strummed the maze of
Rocky shore lines
…Its tentacles tentatively exploring
The COCOON of erosion-made caves
As rushing waves
Failed (struggled) to find
Their calm

The Sun…Rises

High tides describe the water’s rise
…Desperately trying to wash away
All signs of (her) intrusion
FIGHTING the illusion
That her people are not strong
That she is not
STRONG

But her strength was not swayed

As reason sifted thru bite-sized pieces
Of youthful peace
Driving innocence away

“They call me their equal” she did say
“But their lips do not yet call my name
Their eyes do not yet see my glory
Their ears do not yet hear my story
…not the way I want to tell it
(Even if I yell it)”

She loves the written word
She sees in it the power of the sleeping lion
Waiting like that restful beast
With lungs breathing
And heart beating

“They call me an African,” She cried

A mournful saga
Bubbled out of her weary soul
She told her story to all those
Who would listen

“Hear Me.”

Counting inbound waves
She gazed
As forces of nature rocked her to silence

The gentle rhythm of rushing waters
Lulled her to Restful slumber
Where peaceful quiet
Massaged her to sleep

She WEPT at the tranquil setting of rolling mountains
As waves lapped lazily at distant white-sand beaches
Its sounds mingling with the sea gull’s screeching

The ocean whispered its song
To a lone strolling friend and a distant setting sun

It braved the rising waves
It kissed the ocean’s face
When her travels set her upon dry land
She turned and walked away

~ She walked the streets of BABYLON to escape the stench of yesterday

She prayed searing prayers of grieving
And hope from deceiving(s)
For a better tomorrow…a better time
Filled with less sorrow than that left behind

She HOPED TO FIND
Not the fanciful things
Of fantasy and dreams
But SIMPLE THINGS
…the simpler times of a distant land
Where men were men
And women were of her kind

She wished for HAPPINESS
The happiness she knew before time afforded her an evil
She did not know could exist
To risk
Death

The Sun…Sets.
 
THE WRITTEN WORD. it's a powerful thing. i'm glad that it's something we utilize to make the cries of yesterday a reality for today...and tomorrow.

THANKS for reading.


I weep

…At the somber setting of
Inbound waves
That plays
Havoc
With the sun rays

I gaze

At the illusion
That we are
STRONG
When strong
Isn’t measured by ohms
Volts
Or watts
Or existential amplification
Or the weighted nations we’ve lifted
Or the muscular sinews we’ve been gifted

As forces of nature rock us to the core

Heartfelt emotions of yesterday GROW.
In gentle breezes…They BLOW

“This is my name,” she screams
“This is who I am
This is how I got here
This is my story”

It waits like a restful beast
This written word
…With lungs breathing
And heart beating

Wishing…
For a better day
A better way to say…

I AM.
 

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