A Case of The Fears
Chicken Soup is good for a cold
Sleep is good for the Flu
When I get a case of the Fears
What is a person to do?
It is not bacteria
Although it can eat away my soul
It is not a virus
Yet, it can keep me from feeling whole
I know what will do the trick,
What will put me back on top,
A great big bowl of Ice Cream
Will really hit the spot
That was great and now I am done
One bowl just won't do
If one is good, then more is great
And now I have eaten two.
Bowls three, four, five and six
Came and then they went
I think my case of the fears are fixed
Look at how my time was spent
I am getting sleepy
It is time to go to bed
My fears are no longer in my stomach
Now they are in my head
I close my eyes and I can see
The Fears I want to kill
I will do, whatever it takes
To keep the monsters still.
When I rise to greet the day
My fears are rising too
I know I need a friend right now
Whatever will I do?
I walk into the kitchen
And Open the freezer door
I stop myself and think real hard
I have been here once before.
I grab a seat in my comfy chair
And reach over for the phone
What will I say, if you are there?
I can hear a dial tone.
I enter all your numbers
You answer right away
You sit and listen, as I speak
You said I would be ok.
We say good-bye and I start my day
I knew I had been wrong
I start to read and then to pray
To keep me feeling strong.
If you are like me then you will see
That the fears, they come and go
Be the person you were meant to be
Let your feelings show.
Live For Today...
Isn't that what they say?But what does that mean?There's no definition that mayanswer that question..
Give Me a Lily Pad & The Continuum [two Poems]
What can I do to keep this world in its orbital spin?I gave up trying to win the hearts of the many-.Throw the meat-balls against the wall, stop, stop!!Trying to make them spin, like God did in the heavens!Sexual longings-a pathway to anger and rage-Turn the page to the cheap hotels, turn the pageGive it a pathway to run, tell your friends, they've won.
Anne Bradstreet, To My Dear and Loving Husband, A Discussion
"To My Dear and Loving Husband" was written by America's first female poet, the Puritan, Anne Bradstreet. In fact, Anne Bradstreet is one of only a handful of female American poets during the first 200 years of America's history.
AFRICA(to africans in diaspora)africa here i come, africaafrica of the black soul the soul of an ancient culture the culture of your timid tribes.its your voice i hear africa your voice of the talking drumsyour beaded drums and the royal trumpeterthe metal gong of your town crieri have come to see your music dance i have heard of your ageless minstrelshave i not heard of your swinging hips!i have heard enough and have come to watchwouldn't you dance for me africaafrica here i come africa would you not show me to your tribesthe timid tribes of your sweetened tongues the varied tongues of your virtuous menafrica, black soul africa tell me about your gods your gods of the sky and of the mother earthyour gods of the hills and of the rivers aboundshow me to your kings africayour kings of the ancient dynastythe ancient dynasty of rusted spear and shieldafrica, here i come africaHEAVENLY GUESTheavenly guest heralding thunderously in its own awakepelting on men as well, the godsgathering itself drop by drop.
Opposites Do Attract Quite Well
When I am climbing up, you are stepping down.When I wear a smile, you wear a frown.
Learn About Love From Poet Rumi
Learn about love by reading poetry by a long dead poet named Rumi. No need to look for ancient texts hidden in caves.
Song of the Great Zimbabwe, and Silver and Inca Blood [Poems and notes]
"Song of the Great Zimbabwe"Across the African, winter's skyIn the Southern edge of ZimbabweLooking down from the Hill ComplexFrom on top, of an Ancient RockO'er the mountains steep-:A, vista I've longed to see, residesA site, I've longed to meet-;Thus, dwells, within this African Valley,Among the greatest of man's feats?The great, Great Zimbabwe (Enclosure).A million-stones, built these ancient wallsSome twelve-fathoms, fathoms highThat seems to reach unto the sky;Some say: a fortress, and palace, it is;And perhaps-, the legendary 'Ophir!'#747 7/2/05Silver and Inca BloodIn the Great Silver mines of Potosi-(Inca Indians)Conscripted mine workersCarryQuotas of ore-up hundreds of feetOf rope laddered-stepsFor don Francisco de ToledoAndKing Philip II, of Spain-;A farcified vision to becomeRich-off Inca blood,In the year-1571?#744 7/1/05Notes: (The Inca Empire): the assumption is often that the Inca Empire was a large enterprise of its self; a common mistake at best; complicated for sure; but for the most part, the Inca Empire was comprised of ethnic groups who were subjugated into the Inca Empire, similar to the Roman, which was a city nation [Empire] you might say, who subjugated the whole world into its Roman Empire; likewise, so did the Incas of South America.
Farewell to Lester Graybill
I never met a man, who could shake my hand, and make my heart feel like a hearth afire.I never met a man, who could smile so easy, real honest.
Write Your Way to Fame
Have you ever thought about how nice it would be to see your poem discussed in the New York Times? Think you have what it takes to become a famous poet? Well the unfortunate truth is that no one has what it takes to be a famous poet. Here's a little exercise: Name the most famous contemporary poet you can think of.
"I heard what you said, Red. Yet, I have to disagree.
Learn About Love From Poet Rumi
In this modern age of technology, busy lifestyles, and obsession with consumerism have taken a lot of the romance and love out of our lives. The Internet has become a medium to connect with people as everyone is finding it a lot harder to meet one another in the 'real' world.
Shaking out the Rugs [Following the Poet]
Let's follow the poet to hisHell and heaven! Count hisGhosts and dilemma's?Reach out to touch hisStretched-out skies; let's followThe poet to see where he lays.Let's follow the poet to his end;To see if he can?whateverHe wants to do, do over again?.
The Poets Corner [Three Poems with a review]
The Poet's Corner[Three poem/ see review of poetry under the poems]The Poets CondorThe condor fly'sAmongst the hillsIn open skiesOf San Jerrónimo,Near Huancayo?Forbidding anyTo near his path-Lest he dareTo risk a attack,Near Huancayo!..
A Hundred and Fifty Dead [Korean War--l952]
There I sat, ninety-five degree weatherOutside; the bookstore café, was cool.An Old Timer stood by me, explaining:"There were two-hundred of us on the Island,Near North Korea, back in '52-We guarded 16,000-prisners?"All of a sudden, all hell broke looseThree-hundred North Koreans cameOver the bob-wired fence, in pursuit"It all happened in a matter of secondsThe machineguns killed 150-of themThat's all I saw in the war of '52.
Why I enjoy Writing?
During interviews and general conversations with the public,one of the most difficult questions for me to answer(timely and thoroughly) is,"Why do you enjoy writing"?So due to the challenge manifested in such a question,I pondered on creating an answer. Many reasons came to mind,but after digesting much"time for thought",I managed to condense my response to three items.
Ceasar Vallejo: Black Roses [In English and Spanish]
Cesar Vallejo: Black RosesBow down your head ol' poet-To face God's grace aheadThere are no more trenchesTo dig today?In the forest of your head,So-:Bow down, bow down,Ol' barbaric poet!Death rides the horse aheadI hear the crackling of a whipSee the crazed eyes of death.He summons you to his den-The devil and his wind,So-:Bow down, bow downYour blood stained browsHe will take you to the edge.
You make me smilelike I've seldom done beforeYou give me a reasonto want more and more..
Ballade of an Inca King
Ah! Leave the gold, wealth and landSays the Inca King?;In Spain, they leave the bustling streets,For sail to Peruvian shores;The murmur of the gold is sweet,It glows and glistens like the sunA mountain of gold, or the graveAwaits the human, Inca-god?!Spaniards sing their songs of victoryWhere breaks the green Peruvian sea;Who now, worships the Inca King (?) Guarded behind prisons doors-?They chatter about his golden ringsThey watch the winds cross the shores?They count the days that idle by,For gold they worship and will die.Envoy.
Poetry in a Nutshell
Poetry is more than just rhyming and prose that is in meters and verse. It is an art form.
Five Poems from Home [And a view on the planet vs. the poet]
Five Poems from Home1) Remembering: Dorothy Parker[Dedicated to the 1920s Poetess]Let it be said, Dorothy Parker lies dead,cremated to ash and poetry; thus,she died at the ripe old ageof seventy-three-.The tiny woman with a big mouth, who got caught in the rain and couldn't get out:continued to play the game,all the same, like drops of rainupon a pane.