One day I woke up and began writing a poem.... "This Poem" 47 pages in 3 months. Here are a few of those pages.....
This poem was born from another poem of the same name It had no beginning and no ending This poem recites itself to me it didn't want me to sleep it wants to eat apathy This poem has something to say... she needs to talk she is hungry inspired and inspiring This poem dances with mystery This poem lives in her own world This poem is anti-hate and anti-violence...
This poem is a bird that flies in the night and sings lullabies to strangers This poem is a stranger, a mountain climber, a sign seeker and a good deed doer
This poem is not confused This poem is in love This is a love poem...
This poem communes with angels cries at injustice This poem wants to end world hunger Feed everyone first this poem lives on poetry alone This poem is a river you can add to this poem many rivers flowing This poem is an ocean of love the language of metaphor This poem is a door This poem is rich and poor This poem has no color but it is a rainbow This poem is my miracle today because this poem gives me a voice A voice in the noise of the world This poem chokes on exhaust Pollution But it will never be exhausted it is ubiquitous You can taste this poem in your memory of all things good I know this poem it is my heart This poem rubs my back washes my feet and looks into the windows of my soul and sings with the piercing light of love This poem is all about love
This poem is full of promise hope, faith, vitality, strength, vulnerability, responsibility This poem believes in the religion of kindness that there are more good people on this earth than bad This poem wants to comfort you Make you get and do something something courageous help somebody This poem is an angel that wants to help you see the light of grace in a child's face in the mirror in a panhandler this poem doesn't ask for anything This poem accepts itself as is
This poem is alphabet soup that fell out of the sky to a girl on acid in Berkeley on 1973 It has been sitting in my pocket for as long as I can remember This poem has been trying to get out
This poem contains volumes of words left unsaid
This poem has the key for the light to shine in its dark places This poem is my prayer my mantra my song the song of my heart this poem will teach me and release me
This poem came to me in a dream on a flight over land and bodies of water and snow covered mountains This poem will live many lifetimes it is not original the hand that writes this poem only catches falling words from the rainy sky today it is a cold rain there is still war No one can be free when there are people suffering This poem hopes to bring solace this poem is my solace my refuge my place of worship my body This poem is my temple
This poem is my skin it is a tattoo from the West Indies This poem will go to the moon and farther to the milky way the stars will wrap her in an Indian blanket with ancient stories written upon it softer than the finest woven lambswool down this poem will reach down into the depths of one's heart to the divine knowing the light that shines expands and expands across the universe there is a poem that speaks to me of this
This poem has separate realities magical mysteries This poem is a hippie from the 60's Make love not war Make soup This poem is soup hot soup on a cold rainy day make blankets, it's cold This poem is from the kill your television generation Kill Your Television Destroy your guns Go find some children and make them happy for a little while write poetry, it can save your life
This poem carries me when my feet hurt Strokes my hair when I sleep it never tires it will never finish because I cannot write fast enough This poem needs a secretary a kelly girl a temp This poem is temporary This poem has a life of its own I have acquired respect for this poem for the poet cries tears for the world it is not a selfish act it is not an act of vanity This poem is sand running thru the hour glass the sand on the beach of the south of France This poem is a helpless romantic under a Cheshire moon its a black and white movie of young love real love John and Yoko love
This poem is a sunrise that colors the sky till sunset This poem is a handwritten letter on fine silk paper in exquisite calligraphy this poem is my soul
This poem is a belly dancer mystery woman with dark eyes and dark, soulful, rich enigma This poem is melancholy, abstract music crying out in the night for someone
This poem will never be the same there is no going home This poem hums low chants low sings harmony with the buzz of the computer trapped on paper thin as my skin I cannot stop a train by standing on the track I can't look back the road is gone the train has passed This poem is a map to where I don't know until I get there
This poem wants a room full of people to write this poem Let's talk about everything under the sun and beyond of love and kindness because the children of the world need this poem Talk about the Dalai Lama and remember Mother Theresa The children need your poems what do you have to say to love each other This poem wants us all to love each other and stop fighting
This poem is stronger than the willow and bends like the dancer
This poem is carried by the wind to villages over bridges the smells of food and the sounds of children's laughter young and old people having fun together This poem has a big dream it is an idealist a best friend naïve and sure radical This poem has a mind of her own the soft place of mother good mother This poem quiets babies when sung This poem is my mirror its lines my lines crow's feet smiling This poem is a smiling poem
This poem is my grace it touches my skin so gently butterfly kisses child joy a flower This poem is the lotus in cow dung it does not compare itself to the rose but dances in the garden and I am not alone in my divine artistic melancholy
in my coffee world of mice and men and the rat race and babes in arms oh, my children The poet is a mother, a sister I am a woman this time birthing this poem It screams from me “I am free” The world looks bright the future is bright my eyes are wide like the wide Missouri This poem greets change with open arms is unafraid This poem celebrates the beauty of life the sunrise and the birth of a new day
This poem is a primal scream it's therapy meditation This poem is my soul's communication This poem is the Wichita linemen singing to me thru the wires he never tires This poem wants to sing to him a sweet ballad for love in the night a rainy night in Spain This poem has a flowing neck scarf like Oscar Wilde drop names, not bombs
This poem is spilled ink spilling over the banks of the levy of my heart spilling across the floor This poem opens flood gates it writes itself across the sky will never die will never cease will not take its last breath will not forget to tell me his last words
This poem was left in the lost and found I found this poem on scrap of paper blowing in the wind of my mind as I sat in the coffee shop drinking too much coffee It cuts thru me like a knife archaeological dig the layer unfold like origami a map of the world tattooed on my skin I am the painted lady at the circus I ride a white horse I believe in destiny This poem is Little Red Riding Hood lost in the woods but she's smarter than she looks she's not afraid of wolves she writes circles around them she is not bound to them they ride in big cars This poem drives a truck down a lonesome dirt road a road she owns
This poem is written on thousands of little scraps of paper hidden all over the place in between stacks of books in pockets of old jeans it's everything I have ever read it's everything I hope to write it's love letters to people This poem wants the chocolate filling to read the finest print my love lies between the lines of this poem This poem strums my pain it's like the San Francisco rain raining down words to soothe my deepest part This poem is my heart
This poem wakes me up early with the sunrise it beacons me to rise with the sun and say something positive write something that will help me make sense of my own tragedies and how I fit in the world This poem is all women it is a tapestry it is collective consciousness it comes to me in my sleep it's mother earth's song the red clay salt water turquoise sky This poem is like a Georgia O'Keeffe painting I see it in my mind's eye this poem is not afraid to cry it was written with my tears This poem abandons fear Here as I write I hear the distant murmur of the waltz of the wind she blows change things change it's not the end it's not so bad it's an adventure
This poem will keep me company when I get to feeling blue it's painted itself on the walls of my being chiseled from marble pure and strong made to last long past the tall tales and rumors and typos and mistakes This poem is full of mistakes it's everything I've got.....
I began writing jazz music ,rock ballads and poetry at age 15. I couldn't read a book till I was 17. due to undiagnosed vision problems but I could see ,feel, read and write Poetry
Time passed and I continued to write music I’ve been widowed and divorced I’ve raised 3 strong daughters
One day I saw Muta Baruka read his poem on Def Jam Poetry From paper!!!! I was estatic I could read my poetry
His poem was called the Dis Poem’ An amazing poem that ended with Dis poem will disappoint you because it will End in your mind In your mind In your mind…
I woke up at 4 am with This Poem Telling me to get up I wrote for 3 months A 47 page poem I am still writing This Poem……