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Kwansaba
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I gather up all of my courage
My gaze drifts to the evening sky
All that space there between
Alien visitation must be a lie
The sun and moon still shine for us
Eventually they burn out and die
Everywhere a sea of murkiness
With little spots of distant light
No comfort in their glowing beacons
They lack warmth beyond their sight
All the wisdom in every book
Can’t make sense out of a starry night
We may someday sprint off this rock
Conquer every planet to the last
Our population my even explode
An empire that will be unsurpassed
The only thing worse than a prison too small
Is a prison that is too vast
Dedicated to the Messiah.....He knows why
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Kwansaba
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After a night of rain, the sun,
its shimmer, a welcome like no other.
A new day starts with such promise,
an array of flora across the pasture
a gazelle leaping all over the place.
The kisses of the rain still visible
a delight for my eyes to behold.
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Kwansaba
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Hey little black girl keep your head up and walk proud the ghetto cant break you
and the hood cant make you who you are stay storng little black girl keep faith walk
the walk of proud sisters talk the talk of black queens a man cant define you and a
man cant break you hey little black girl only the strong survive like the color of your
skin that runs like the blood in your body deep like the waves in your hair look up
little black girl you only have to be you not them they or he can change that no
tears little black girl your beautiful you'll see love yourself first and others will follow
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Kwansaba
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bolts of thunder light up the sky
splash of colour visible as rain fall
rain supply its own kind of music
lyrics the trees sway and dance to
as flowers smile after months of drought
one thing on nature's mind is renewal
it is time to enjoy every facet...
03/05/2011
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Kwansaba
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Rhythm develops
everything
horrid
heavenly thoughts
misery
tones of home vibrate
livelihood exists inside
ambiance waves crash
tear shorelines
sliding through marinas
ships live n' die
by rhythm
high tide
to low the sailor knows
to schoon the great deep sea
respecting nature's violent blessing
the Bind that won't untie
excitement for the divide
all there
inside the rhythmic ride
arithmetic and music
cruising ocean blue
with the muse
the full moon at the side
providing just the perfect stride
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Kwansaba
Poem | |
Dark skin sweats in a dark night
as around the fire, they drum on.
They drum their pain and their joy.
Red sparks fly birthed by the log.
Hearts entrain to flying palm beats.
Eyes closed adrift in the sounds swell.
Smack, slap, tap, ping, begin again.
White skins sweats in a dark night
joining each other in delight, drum on.
Dancers rise to stomp the dry earth.
Dreads fringe faces with coal black eyes
as golden locks and blue eyes smile.
Eyes closed adrift in the sounds swell.
Smack, slap, tap, ping, begin again.
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Kwansaba
Poem | |
Royal Oak
Boast sun light,
Climbing with
Rough scarded hands.
Many raw murders
It stands, aged with
Bitter bladed leaves.
Wild, baby birds
Hustle their flight.
Flesh with rings
In time staged,
Savoring
The Royal Oak.
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Kwansaba
Poem | |
Royal Oak roasted in light
climbing with rough dirty hands
many raw murders it stands
aged and bitter bladed leaves
wild baby birds hustle flight
flesh with rings in time staged
savoring the Royal Oak
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Kwansaba
Poem | |
"What's your story?"
she questions,
"you seem interesting."
wildflower eyes
~SIDE-NOTE:
I reply, "NOW." (Kwan$aba! Ha! Really,
often people become confused
by such a unique response
not this one...
she's a beauty
shiny minded stone
lives warm under veins
lacks definition of alone
tho solo she stands
tallest green blade
unscathed
each time the oily blade passes above
erect
she stays the same
tingling pulses exhale her pores
she'd rather sink
than have to think the way of worldly whores
still...
malice skips her
no ripples in the lake
dripping from her face
sunshine slips across tangerine cheeks
gold flows throughout waves
streaming locks
sky clear eyes surprise those
choosing to be consumed
by her entice
hands free of envy
no webs to spin
hips unmolested
thighs slick
turpentine
be warned
she will divide you
no voodoo
or silly twisted games
though safe may escape you
blemish-less
untangled...
the girl
she
Goddess
baby of zero maybes
KNOWS....
how?
she knows
as clarity lent us its giant umbrella
her lipstick smacked my tongue
from there
we never looked back
~JSLaM
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Kwansaba
Poem | |
Weeping willow growing outside my office door
blows in the wind like angel wings.
Each wing unfurls as though taking flight
to some haven where there is peace.
And with this peace comes perfect rest.
The kind of rest given by God
as His gentle breeze blows this tree
Kwansaba- 7 lines with 7 words per line
and no word has more than 7 letters.
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Kwansaba
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Haunted house on top of the hill
Scares many kids that sure walk by
Ghouls and ghosts make their display known
Deep inside this hold there’s all sorts
They moan and groan and carry on
Loud enough so many others may hear
They bring life of misery to all
Russell Sivey
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Kwansaba
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Can a word be just a tree?
Is a forest any form of poetry?
Where the soil adds imagery of style,
Rains make the flow of each line.
Light the feeling that reader reacts too.
Warmth of summer the deep rich stanzas,
Winters frigid ways the ending of strength.
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Kwansaba
Poem | |
am nices
so think twices
before dis repect
and don't forget
all i have for you too
just let me be
to my heart you have the key
your
LUCKY TO HAVE ME
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Kwansaba
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Great lion who once ruled the land,
you are a serf to your lord.
Gone is your kingdom where you reigned.
You now serve new masters these days.
You fell from your once proud throne.
Your home is now humble and plain.
Among those who serve, you’re not alone.
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Kwansaba
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Each morning just before lunch at eleven,
I can see the black smoke rise.
Pops has his large grill fired up.
Chicken and ribs sizzle over the flame.
Just come here to satisfy your hunger.
Pops is not skimpy on his sauce.
The man is the boss for cooking.
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Kwansaba
Poem | |
Inky
promise, too
that if ever
anything makes
you
uncomfortable,
you
just don't have
to.
Because that/s not love
that's like/a lie
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Kwansaba
Poem | |
On Good Friday after church we eat
curried pickled fish and hot crossed buns
and drink black coffee because we share
in the painful agony of the Lord.
On Easter Sunday after church we braai *
meat and drink like fish and rejoice
in the victory over death and grave.
* (rhymes with "bye" ) - barbeque / barbecue
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