Tag Archives: poems

Stand. Still.

Head back.
Chin up.
Feet shoulder width apart.
Knees bent slightly.

Pull those dreadlocks back.

Tendrils of distraction.
Aren’t they dirty?

Now breathe in slowly.

Feel the air fill your diaphragm.
Your chest expands.

You have control.

Hold for ten counts.
Now release slowly.

Let out the smell of Dad’s breath last night,
Whiskey bruises and bloodied lips

In through your nose.
Quick. Fill up. Short stop.

Out through your mouth.
Concentrated. Deliberate. Mindfully.

Each smack of the belt,
slicing into your back.
You’re the slave here.
He’s finally master.

Flip to page 2.
Second bar.
You’re the star here.
The star in your own show.

Always have the inner smile,
So your song won’t ring flat.

You’re in control here.

Ambulance flashing,
Hand hanging over the side.
Blood drips from pointing finger.

Don’t attack the words.
Tease them.
Let them melt on your tongue.
They should be as sweet as she as.
As this song is.

As you should have been.

Your losing your count.
You sound flat.
Again.

You should be better at this.
Your people are good at this.
Do you play bass?

Practice your breathing.
Haven’t you been breathing?
Don’t you realize the very existence of every man
Hangs from the whoosh through your pursed lips?

You should spend less time singing
And more time cleaning this house.
Earn your keep.

Hasn’t it dawned on you,
Every flat note,
Is a tear sent up to the heavens.
We should be bringing them a joyful noise.

Again.
Breathe.
Lift your chin.
Shoulder back.
Again.
Don’t lock your knees.
Deep breath.
Fast, quick, deliberate.
Succinct.

Less time singing.
More time finding a man.

There’s no time

To keep teaching you these basics.
Do you even want to be here?
Do you want your voice to soar with the angels?
Do you want to be great?

Try harder.

Your inner smile isn’t glowing.

Again.
Again.
Again.

Because you’ll never find release.

Years later when you’re bagging grocers
At the corner store,
You’re going to wonder if that one
misspent night.

That one note that cracked against the bridge of your mouth
Scraping your tongue in its offense,
If that one was the one

That lost every thing for you.

The scholarship.
The respect.
The curve of your youthful body
As you have child number 4.

Again.
Again.
Again.

You have control here.
Release.http://penpaperpad.com

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Silent next to you (A Poem)

http://penpaperpad.comHe said to concentrate on my breathing,
to feel the air blow through my nostrils,
to be aware of the world,
the birds calling to each other.
a millennium in on heartbeat.
My eyes closed,
The night sky rested in my forehead
I became conscious of my pulse beating through
my wrist.
The pain in my lower left side,
how my hips had settled into the ground.
My world slowed down and focused,
and I breathed in,
quietly blew out.
My fingertips rested against each other
on the pulse of infinity.
Alone but not lonely.
Namaste.

***

Welcome to the 33 Creative Buzz Hop. This week’s buzz word is *solitude*. If you have a post that could talk about something fresh, then please link it up. If you don’t and want to join in the fun, please do. There’s always room for one more at this hop! These doors will be open until Saturday, so c’mon over.

Here’s how:

1. Write something creative, or use an old post. Either about the buzz word “solitude” or something of your choosing.
2. Add your link below.
3. Grab the button on the side, either add it to your post or somewhere on your blog just to let us know you care.
4. And tell folks so we can grow.

Link up with the prompt Solitude! Remember, it’s OPTIONAL.

Also linked this awesome linkup that you should totally check out! http://elleroywashere.com/2013/10/20/2409/

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A to Z blog challenge: M is for Memory (A poem)

http://penpaperpad.com

M is for Memory

Remember when his fingertips stroked your cheek,

electric seemed to pulse from your inner sanctum to everywhere?

You blushed prettily.

He was your one and only.

He’s gone now.

Remember first day of school,

Nerves rushed through you then too.

You were so scared on the bus ride home.

You couldn’t speak when the driver flew past your stop.

Mommy was all flashing lights and beeping car horns until

he pulled over.

Mommy smelled like home when she held you.

 

Remember when that off-campus housing burned,

And those students you didn’t know died?

You cried anyway, because you may have met them.

In a lecture hall or at fast food restaurant or that one neighborhood pub

They had the fishbowl glasses.

The entire neighbor smelled of charred hair and flesh.

You couldn’t stomach the smell of bacon for weeks.

 

Remember when Daddy had a drink on his table.

It looked like that one pop you loved.

Can’t remember its name.

You took a big ole swig and swallowed it.

Then your eyes watered and  that shit burned like lava

and exploded in your stomach.

He didn’t get mad at your for drinking his Scotch,

He said that’s what you get when you don’t ask first.

You learned.

 

Which one are your evening prescriptions?

It’s either the one with the blue writing or the red one.

It’s supposed to be a for high blood pressure, or maybe the diabetes.

Did you take the morning ones?

 

Remember when your eyes didn’t have floaters in front of them?

And then you could read, and sign paperwork without someone reading it

to you.

You used to read all the time,

Only happiness in this piece of shit town.

Gone.

Your lucky to see to wipe your own ass.

 

Remember walking without stooping over so much.

Grandson mimics you, hand on his little hip.

You laugh,

but it hurts almost as much has having the damn

cane.

Remember when laughing didn’t cause the embarrassing leaks

Spraying the “underwear” that you have,

More like pull-ups than the sexy garters you loved?

You used to walk down the street, turning heads

making people stop in their tracks.

Now they stop to move out-of-the-way of you

in case you stumble.

 

Remember when the shifting in seasons was more about the smell of

Easter lilies, daffodils and practicing baby-making

than the aching in your hip when it rains and

how Arthur starts talking in your joints, making

knuckles a swollen map of sewing, scrubbing tiles on your knees and bread kneading.

 

Remember when…

Remember when…

When your memories weren’t so damn elusive and you didn’t curse so damn much?

You didn’t have whatchacallit and your mind wasn’t a foggy soup of

thoughts.

Clarity.

 

Remember when you danced under the moonlight,

And the feeling was out of sight?

Was that you?

You can’t remember.

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Filed under My Poetry