WHAT IS POETRY?

What is poetry?

Who decides?

Every time I think I've found the answer

New questions arrive

Is it a series of syncopated rhymes, an observation and dissertation of a particular mind, or is it deep, so deep I can't understand it so I feel inferior, so coded one must decrypt it

Or is it music made with words only

Where the heart and emotions tell the story

What is poetry

And how can I tell if there's a poet in me?

APRIL'S FOOL

It's a beautiful day, and I'm feeling blue. I'm wearing yellow the happy color, with any luck, this will improve my pallor. It's Peka's birthday today. Happy birthday Princess. Wish I could hug you, show you I love you, but your dad would expire, he's been cruel and I'm tired. So I retired from fighting him, he's done too much and not of the right thing, I'm too tired to fight him. No more. No more. No more. 

Whole Again

Yesterday I bought another skagen watch. I was wearing the first when I fell and broke my arm. Ironically, I had just looked at my wrist and admired how beautiful and dainty it looked, then I fell and it looked deformed, then it shriveled up and began to die. I had an operation on Dec 8th 2011. The doctor had to cut me, and go in to straiten my bones, and add some screws to keep them in place. It took me six months after that to use my arm again. I felt like God let me fall (disappointed me), when I was flying high, he brought me low. 

     I just stepped out the shower, and lotioned myself. I picked out my panties and thought of the scar that Peka's birth left me (another time when the creator let me down). I brought forth all my fruits, so why did he let them cut me? I suppose if they hadn't, I would have continued populating the earth in misery. Either way, this morning the sight of this watch on my wrist brought me back full circle. Looking at my arm again, thinking how I had lost it, but now it's returned. Is it perfect? No. Is it the same arm? No, but I am whole. 

     I hated my stomach after the C-section, I didn't want anyone to see it. It was ugly, and my body would never be the same again. I especially didn't want to have sex. But time healed my body. Both scars are still there, but I'm still whole, and I 💘 my body again. Life is a strange brew. Fear and wonder.

Devotion devoured her

Like steel wool it scoured her

Like an innocent he deflowered

Hiding like a coward behind 

Sweet words and galant gestures

To address her

That later festers like an infected wound

THE PRESENT

Today is a present wrapped in blue skies and fresh air

The trees are shining bright under the sun's care

Everything is affected by the light

The flowers turn their faces up

In hopes of being kissed 

by sunrays and sweet breeze

The wind whistles and rejoices 

as the birds sing their song

And that's just in the morning

The possibilities are endless

What we could create

If we keep tomorrow in mind

We will succeed every time

Our todays create our tomorrows

Don't borrow from her

If you keep on living

You'll find her unforgiving

when the future brings her reward

They say life is hard

It is if you say so

Words are seeds that grow

like deeds and actions

What you give is only fraction 

of what you receive

Today is a present

Treat it with respect

And you will always be happy 

with what you get tomorrow...

LIGHT

There is a light pursuing me

That shines through the darkness

That tries to ruin me

No matter what weapons form

This light sustains me 

Through all storms

Everyday it gets brighter

I garnish more strength 

And the darkness becomes

Of no consequence...

The Seed of the Child Molester

I was spawned from a sexual predator's gene pool

a child molester

a fool

To my utter shame 

he chipped seed

and stained my mother's name

With his lascivious pension for innocents

and no conscience to correct

molesting my future with dirty fingers 

and perverted sentiments

He smeared blood stains on Zion’s

daughters

Confused Nubian queens

turned crack heads and harlots

Throwing their pearls to swines

His actions defined them

shaped them, sedated them with lies

Complicated them with demons

Deposited in their bellies

toting pernicious poison 

Passed on by their precarious predator 

  A.k.a my father

He took what was precious (the heartbeat) 

and left only the carcass     

Karma was not asleep

while he was out thieving innocence

compensation was due him

that’s where I came in

Everything he did to them was done to me

Daughter of my father

a leaf from his tree

Nourished by his roots

His deeds grew 

and blossomed 

like noxious fruits

-He bent forward smiling

here sweetheart: you can have them

that’s all he ever gave me

His name and his karma

And a life time of drama

my father the child molester

I'm sorry if he wronged you

if he stole your will to live

if he burned down your house 

and left you to sit in ashes

I'm sorry you hurt so bad

and sleep is complicated

If it's any consolation to you

When he hurt you

Even though he didn't mean to

He hurt me too

Except I carry his curse on my back

Like the marks on a crab

and no matter where I go

these scars are all I have

Thanks to my sperm donor

who never was a father

but gifted me his karma

the seed of the child molester...