Different eyes, the same world
Ancient skin, dirty Indian Girl
Smokey, eyes, exotic raven hair
---Now listen to the colors, of transformation,
On the day she was born, the wind blew in,
A blessing ---her soul, fallen from the heavens
A gorgeous puff of smoke, Miss Virginia Slim
Able to walk the world with an open mind, she twirls
Pocahontas, one of her many names.
She carves, and climbs on trees, this little Indian Girl,
Her feathers ride with the wind, against her red titian skin
Daughter of Chief Powhatan, a powerful tribal, red man
Peace and love with the Indians of her Virginia Lands,
Many myths, many stories, maybe a mad woman,
A new Christian, living sad poverty, a silent hero,
Twisted tales, from savage green to ivory white religion
In her eyes, life never was about greed and skin
Her new look, attained an altitude precision
Pocahontas, tricked and captured,
Set to sail another tribe, lands were taken over,
Boat sailed out of Virginia Lands
Tribes acclaimed her to be wild and ambitious
"The naughty one," searching for admission
Native American child, before princess,
Her beautiful soul, a short auspicious beginning
Leaving her world, beautiful and fearless
Forgetting her roots-- From Mother Willow's Vision
Pocahontas, the Indian Legend from, The Virginia Lands
I feel my mind go wondering back
And let the years unfold
To when I first met you
When we were only twelve years old
So innocent and young we were
Just holding hands together
When we shared our first kiss
I thought you’d stay with me forever
But then as we grew up
I left behind my school girl days
It broke my heart to turn our backs
And go our separate ways
And as the years passed by
I tried to put you from my mind
For I had family ties now
Leaving memories far behind
But you and I had something
That forever would be there
A love that grew from innocence
That no one else could share
And though I tried forgetting
In my heart you did remain
For deep inside I knew one day
Our paths would cross again
We couldn’t hide our feelings
Though we both knew it was wrong
For we were man and woman now
The boy and girl had gone
But deep inside we’d always known
That 'we' could never be
While you were tied to someone else
I had my family
So once again you walk away
But never will you know
The sadness and the pain inside
The tears I'll never show
The heartache that will stay with me
Until the day I die
For you will always be the love I lost
Who said goodbye...
By Raina Hutchins
(written for my friend)
Stuck in a world, she can't find her place
Feeling like noone cares,
looking for away out of this evil crule place she calls home
her mother pretends like nothing is happening
she pretty much raises her 7 year old brother and her 9 and 10 year old sisters
she thinks that she isn't brave anymore
that all happyness is gone
she tries, so hard, she ends up with a fork in the road
noone sees it coming
she can't leave her brother and her sisters behind,
they are the only things keeping her alive,
her father is crule, sick, twisted, so many ways to discribe him
she's afraid that if she tells, she'll be taken away from her siblings
she's tries to hide behind her walls, she paints up her walls
she tries and tries and yet...
She's still stuck in a world where she can't find her place
See the girl living on the streets? does anyone know she is there,
Do you see that girl down in the dumps? and does anyone care.
We don't know the reason that she left her home and do any of us want to know?
She's out in all weathers without any covers in rain, hail and snow.
Does anyone wonder if she's ever lonely when we're all tucked up in our beds,
when she's wet and cold, and we're warm and cosy does it ever enter our heads.
She might have been beaten when her home she left, she's sad and she's lonely and often bereft.
Does anyone see me alone on the streets? trying to smile at all that I meet,
asking for pennies for a warm cup of tea, we're not all on drugs, at least not me.
I'm trying to avoid going down that road I try to remember the things I've been told.
Stories of people lying in the gutter, and people passing by all of a mutter.
Do they care, what they see there? I suppose they think it's everywhere !
But I would like to say to all of you . I don't take drugs, I'm one of the few.
So to all of you sat home by your fires, spare a thought for me,
when you pass me by tomorrow, I'd love a cup of tea.
From the day of birth,we are so innocent and fair,
With nothing on our minds, no troubles no cares.
Learning to talk was a major deaster,
For no one could tell exactly what was the matter.
We cry and we screem ,to show we are in pain,
They dont seem to understand and we though that was mean.
So of to the doctors we went that day,
Only to have the doctor tell Mom im ok.
Learning to walk got me bumps and bruses,
But its what we must do ,im sure no one chouses.
Climbing up the stairs , got me in trouble,
On the way down, i wished i were in a bubble.
After mastering that feat , it was off to school,
Because my mom said im not raising no fool.
In grade one i had a hard time with girls,
They would walk up to me and flick thier curls.
Things start to look up as i got older,
But you know those girls only got bolder.
They made me laugh,and they made me cry,
Some made me happy and filled with joy.
Then came love and next was marriage,
Two years time i was pushing a baby carriage.
Going back over my trials of life,
I knew my baby girl was in for a long fight.
But its the highway we all must travel,
In order to get to this level.
My little girl will be doing this one day,
Ill be in heaven watching her in every way.
You see im much older and dont have a lot of time,
To watch my two baby girls grow up and look so fine.
God is calling me to another life,
But he said on this highway ,there will be no strife.
Your fears and your troubles will all go away,
When you take this highway ,your with me to stay.
They will come joing you when its thier time,
But for now they must follow thier own minds.
So if you have kids , guide them with care,
They will grow up with nothing to fear.
Teach them right from wrong each day.
For the HIGHWAY OF LIFE isent always what they say.
(W)- A real woman knows that the wages of sin is death so she is not concerned about the wages of a real man, because money comes and goes like day and night; but true love comes just every blue moon. A real woman isn't loud and doesn't have to be the center of attention. Money is a gold-diggers virtue, while patience is a real woman’s virtue. A real woman is always wary of the image she displays to the world because she knows her children are watching her every move. A real woman’s wisdom comes from the teachings of her elders and the experiences and hardships life brings. A real woman is the wings that help a broken man learn to fly again. When you become the object of a real woman’s affection, winning is the only option.
(O)- A real woman’s main obligation is to better herself, before she attempts to become someone’s better half. A real woman is very obliged with all that God has blessed her with. When a man takes a real woman for granted, she makes up her mind to put him away into oblivion. A real woman is use to jumping hurdles because overcoming obstacles in life keeps her on the right track. A real woman doesn't spend her time worrying if failure is around the corner, because she occupies her freedom chasing her dreams in her most comfortable running shoes. A real woman is a hopeless romantic ready to be wooed with an odyssey of love with a real man by her side.
(M)- A real woman’s presence is magnanimous and captures attention because of the poised and elegant stature of her classy nature. A real woman is like the magnet of ecstasy. All women don't attend college or hold prestigious employment, but for many being the Valedictorian of mothers everywhere is the major of their lives. A real woman respects the art of marriage and believes in monogamy. A real woman’s life is the motion picture of sophistication. The mythology of a woman began within a man’s ribs and ends in the beat of his heart.
(A)- A real woman sticks to her man like glue and never abandons his side. A real woman has the ability to do anything a man can. A real woman has the power to fill the abyss of a man’s pains with joy. A real woman prays with her other half because faith is the key of remaining on one accord. A real woman will amaze you with the way she adapts to changes in her ambiance. A real woman is the architect of her own destiny.
(N) A real woman needs a man to understand and love her for everything she is and for everything she is not because a good support system is a leading factor in longevity within relationships. A real woman is the nexus between love and happiness. When you converse with a real woman you will realize that she is nimble with her every response. No man can ignore the nymph of a real woman, because it is in her D.N.A to be notable.
From fabrics torn, in ruin, she hail,
Above the deck, beneath the sail,
Above silent meadow, the sea,
Her frosty breath, in doom, she see.
Her fondness torn, her kids apart,
Though love follows her broken heart,
Her sorrow tears on rusted chains,
For holding children once again.
The howling steam erased skies,
And fright gallops the silent cries,
As faces pale in feeble grip,
And sea moaning the crowded ship.
The days are past, remedies none,
The burned down farms from firing sun,
They bent on knees for kids to feed,
Beneath the feet for coin, indeed.
Her husband dead from bones to sweat,
Hard labor earning, closing, debt,
She buried body, beneath the farm,
And begs for mercy, waiting harm.
The beats in rage far fierce than flame,
The bells were rung, with chains they came,
Her toes were trembling, wrath unfolds,
They tortured, beat and tied her, cold.
While taken heart and soul from kids,
The slave in chain with tearful lids,
They dragged and stripped in crowded street,
And brought with slaves to ship, the fleet.
Through cries unheard and night she sails,
With slaves in ship with fuming trails,
To hungers deep in scalding cold,
And chapped lip-lines numb, breaking hold.
Her skin was pale, the hunger tale,
As blue veins rose beneath her nails,
To fading night, her dim eyes sleep,
Her moon-light fades and die asleep.
I'm still here,
Though I think that I,
May be fading fast,
You know you've never known me,
And I cry,
When I see that I've a past.
Somehow I know,
That if I could go,
And redeem myself,
I'd sleep in my own head at last.
When did this girl appear?
In the mirror,
wracked with fear,
When will this reflection be
Someone who looks like me?
It's cold outside,
But I love the ice,
Because it warms my soul
And takes me to my childhood.
And watching as they roll.
Inside my head,
I still feel the dread,
But I let it go
Burying this wretched hole,
When did this girl appear,
In the mirror,
Scratched but clear:
Tears in eyes and scars, she says
that, "I don't Know."
Sometime I hope she'll be,
Back in me,
One day this mirror will show,
Someone that I know.
PARODY OF REFLECTION; MULAN @Dec2012
I am a plastic girl in a plastic world even though i am plastic the girls think i am fantastic. The clothes they make for me they are plastic to even all my shoes what am i to do. Theirs plastic every where even under there. I am in a plastic world come along and see while you play with me that everything is plastic. I have a cat and dog they are plastic to everything is plastic what am i to do. Yes i have a boyfriend he is plastic to i call him plastic boy he lives here with me in my plastic world. I got a lot of friends they are plastic to i hope it is ok if they play with you. They all live here in this plastic world. Would you want to live here with me in this plastic world. I am old school that is plan to see are you sure you want to play with me. I am just a plastic girl in a plastic world.
There is a mud brick house
With roof of palm fronds and thatch:
Behold a little girl named Marie
In possession of my farthest dispatch.
My picture on its pale mud wall
Above her barest earth floor bedding:
I hope one day her crying tears
Will be tears of great joy shedding
On darkest Africa's west coast,
A small Temne village in Sierra Leone:
Gathering windblown palm nuts
Or fetching water to carry back home.
Grandmother inside making oil,
And villagers irrigating planted plots:
Marie and her busy little friends
Are chasing the birds from the crops
The Port Loko District foothills
In the Kalamera Development Project:
Home of tribesman shepherds
And Medicine Men to malady correct.
From day to day her people lead
A subsistence life with each breath:
Will Marie and her family live
Till next harvest to again cheat death
I lie awake in my bed at night
With my mother's book of English verse:
It is then I think of you, Marie,
And am reminded whose plight is worse.
God bless you my sponsored child,
And cheerful speak your native tongue!
The greatest gift you give to me -
That you grow to be your tribe among
Dedicated to all sponsored children everywhere!