Best Black Body Poems
Traveling birds
Shifting seasons
Are reflected on your front glass
This is a usual scene every morning
That day, too
Before bringing our children to school
That day, though
You didn't come home
Injured severely on the road
A few days later
You were back
Your white butterfly like eyes
Looked sad
Appealing that you wanted to work more
The shattered face does not match to your slinky black body
Daddy will get you to hospital
Wait till then
The horn from trains CT and NY lines
Sympathetic and respectful
for our car who had been in service
for more than 20 years
re-post inspired by Brenda's contest
THE HERO
Every Tuesday on the dot,I would be off to the newsagent like a shot.A solitary
sixpence,all my wealth to pick up my favourite comic from his shelf.Not the
Beano,Beezer,Dandy or Eagle...the Hotspur and Wizard were my kings regal.To
read of my hero W W Wilson,the wonder man,sporting giant extraordinaire,batted
bowled and ran.
Soccer ,cricket were a piece of cake,he left all others in his wake.Give him the
ball and the game was soon over,he even outscored Roy of the Rover.Bowling
right armover,on a sixpence seven times from eight,well above average Wilson
was incredibly great.He'd bowl all day at one twenty an hour,never stopping to
take shower!
In futuristic black body suit,an English record breaker without dispute.My
inspiration,this imagined prince,never bettered then,before or since!
Me... closed box... death hangs*,
Heartless dreamers can't see in
Bastards! Am I dead?
Poet's Notes:
A famous thought experiment in Physics in which the life or death of Schridinger's
Cat (an imaginary animal) in a box depends on unpredictable chance. The
experiment unimpeded, the cat will die, the question is only when. The larger
issue however, is that since no one can see what has actually happened, the
actual state of the cat is unknown and hence can only be discussed in terms of
the probability of the cat being either dead or alive. And probability ends the
earlier mechanistic view of both God and His creation. God is no longer black and
white, color has returned to His cheeks.**
* hangs - like the sword of Damocles, capable of falling randomly at any instant.
** see my earlier poem 'Black Body' for an even more poetic discussion.
It darts past then briefly hovers
picking up the scent of rotted fruit
following it to until it came to the source
where it feasts until bloated.
Back on the hunt it swoops
and dives like a bomb,
flashing its yellow and black body
a warning to all to keep away.
Uninvited it hones in
and joins the bar-be-que,
as people scatter from its path
some flapping their hands at it.
Buzzing angrily, it returns
sourcing out the sweetness
of ripened tomatoes and
flavoursome BBQ sauce.
It darts in and out
grabbing a bite or two
then to everyone's relief
it leaves for pastures greener.
Abandon Hope All Ye
Who Enter Here
Ever the edifice
The bold and self-serving statue
Proud ego stamped
In the courtyards and squares
Of those who have diminished ( ordinary )
Ever the hero who by guile
Steals the heroes burial
With self sacrificial offerings of ballot boxes ( rigged )
Ever the flag waving
For the faceless dictators
Who by money and army medals adorned
Assume control
Via coup d'état ( or money )
Ever the religious fanatic
Behind Iattola, priest, missionary and Papist
Ever the quiet and raucous rapist
Of faith
Ever the secret of power hunger ( sanctioned )
Allowed to dictate
Through political expediencies
Ever the murder of country men
To rule the country
Ever the nationalistic barrage of pride
For coloured cloth
Defines identity
And not humanity ( human )
Ever the innocent left to bleed
To fill the coffers of nameless greed
And ever the hate to feed
The racial, political and religious idiocy ( bigotry )
Ever the door which opens
For men and women returning home
With the triumphal marches
Of black body bags
Ever the tear gas, riot shield and rubber bullet
Ever the faces of Tienanmen Square
Ever the bodies of The World Trade Centre
Ever the terrorism of lies
Ever the truth denied
Ever love defiled
Ever the innocent left to bleed
To fill the coffers of nameless greed
And ever the hate to feed
The racial, political and religious bigotry ( idiocy )
Ever the door which open
Welcoming home
Mothers and Fathers
From their long days labours ( ordinary )
BEAUTY OF NATURE
A butterfly on a flower,
It's a moment of pure delight
Testing the nectar with it's feet,
Colourful wings ready for flight.
A ladybird sits on a leaf,
Her red and black body so small,
Working at eating those bugs,
Who ruin plants, making leaves fall.
There's bees buzzing over a bush
All covered with pretty flowers,
Taking pollen back to the hive,
To make honey by the hours.
Ants scurrying to build their nests
They sense rain is on the way,
Each scene is joyful to ponder
The beauty of nature each day.
Copyright © Vivien Wade June, 2013.
A deep, dark kindred spider looms to proffer the sentiment,
That abuse just objectifies the long persistent winter:
Scouring around playfully, but embedded in the night -
Two way of seeing it but only one plight.
That black body, its piercing eyes drive acutely,
In the lengthy web that’s receptive but selfish with quirk,
With thin, spindly legs which effect to mobilise,
The creature only some befriend to glamourise.
We hold to the summer, autumn and spring as the norm,
Not winter’s harrowing chill which makes us so often ill;
The act of telling someone you've been raped, abused,
Should not be a sick kick or a jester’s a thrill.
If you don't give us our minds, stance and chirps,
You'll just be cushioning that admiring psychologist,
Who asks us about physical abuse, sexual, and rape,
But who we hate to have as we’ve no trait.
Give us our spirits, intellect and powers:
Don't glare, glance and glower at our ordinary activities;
Equality only exists when you feel it and can tower,
In the informal social networks of civil conviviality.
And of course, nasty small talk itself causes rape,
Violence and abuse which derides and can shape,
The heart that reaches out to befriend and welcome,
The fence-sitter, the open mind who quietly relates.
But if you say physical abuse just objectifies other lesser evils,
Like criticising needlessly, cutting us off, and gloating,
Then your sick in the head and unforgivable,
Because all discrimination is unnecessary and avoidable.
Every Tuesday on the dot,
I would be off to the newsagent like a shot.
A solitary sixpence,all my wealth to pick up
my favourite comic from his shelf.Not the
Beano,Beezer,Dandy or Eagle...
the Hotspur and Wizard were my kings regal.
To read of my hero W W Wilson,the wonder man,
sporting giant extraordinaire,batted bowled and ran.
Soccer ,cricket were a piece of cake,
he left all others in his wake.
Give him the ball and the game was soon over,
he even outscored Roy of the Rover.
Bowling right armover,on a sixpence seven times from eight,
well above average Wilson was incredibly great.
He'd bowl all day at one twenty an hour,never stopping to
take shower!
In futuristic black body suit,an English record breaker
without dispute.My inspiration,this imagined prince,
never bettered then,before or since!
As the sun goes down
The feral cat’s prowl
Looking for mice, searching for rats
In the alley, bins full of out of date
And yesterday’s wrapping.
A tribute to Consumerisms detritus
On the ground a smiling face
Colonel Sanders, blocking a stagnant drain.
Slowly freezing as the frost descends,
And up above the stars shine their scorn, upstaged
By the moon, seeking to unveil,
The cities vermin
Residents of the night.
The thief fox, screeches’ his indifference
At the stray dog, licking the remnants of last night’s kebab
And in the shadows behind the skips,
In a cardboard den
A pair of eyes glares across the alley
Seeking forgiveness that is not there,
From within this frail kingdom
A tiny light appears,
A fragment of hope, the start of a happy ending
But no, it is a tab end fading
For the last drag has been taken
And the last can of comfort is now empty
And while we sit down to watch TV
To marvel at Attenborough’s view
To see the blue planet and the leopard seals kill
And "ahh" at polar bears, and gorillas in Brazil
All neatly packaged by nature’s quill.
Oblivious to the view outside
Beyond the living room window
A man will not wake
For when the dawn releases this night’s chill
He will be found, taken away,
Sanitized by his black body bag
Anonymous to this world
For we do not want to know
As we did not in life
A stain on the community
One less beggar to avoid
But look in the mirrors spell
And dare to What if?
You lost your job and your wife ran off
Your child was gone and your house taken away
Your mind now broken,
Fear of humanity is but a step,
The comfort of being alone
Led you down this dark alley.
The rat, and the fox your allies
For they too fear mans footsteps
Think on for I do not preach
Nor do I wish to teach
But remember Attenborough’s planet,
And the wonder of life
I did not see the animals behave this way,
Only mutual survival
Are we less than that we see?
Are we too busy or too proud?
I see no mourners here, only indifference
And when I die I wish for no mourners too.
Jon doe, your maker will mourn for you
And relative’s dead will feel your pain
And perhaps one day your community
Will learn to mourn for a stranger
For we are all strangers, when we look the other way
May you find peace Sir, whoever you may be?
hostility snaps the nerves
taut from life in tiny boxes
your neighbor prances
naked
through the hall
and brags about her fancy men
attracted to her beautiful, black body
they pay
her rent
her groceries
everything she needs
she tramples them
orders them to hand over their wallets
they do
while she sinks into her coffin
of dependence on handouts
A sliver of bright light
seeps into the darkness
Echo of voices reverberate inside my head
I'm in limbo,
I can't move
Am I alive, am I dead?
I don't feel any pain,
I don't feel much of anything
But there's a sense of dread foreshadowing me,
an unease that I can't seem to shake free
I want to scream,
but I'm disoriented thoroughly
My eyes move, that's all, nothing else
So I glance around,
I see white lab coats, and black body bags on metal slabs
An antiseptic smell permeates the air,
masking the scent that death lives here
The voices are slowly becoming clear,
and what I'm hearing brings horror to my ear
They're talking very dispassionately about dispatching me,
how there's no need to contact next of kin, given I'm government property
I give a silent scream: somebody help me please!
My lips can't move though,
I'm paralyzed completely
What happened to me, how did I get in this predicament?
Memory is foggy, with only one mental flash coming in and out
A battlefield with sounds of gunfire and bombs,
I must be a soldier no doubt
But those cold, rational voices intrude on me again,
and I get more terrified by what they're saying
They say they want to remove my cybernetic limbs,
download the memory in my positronic brain
Place it in a new prototype version, then scrap the remains
Burn all the evidence,
incinerate any signs of their illegal activity
I want to scream I'm alive
Listen, listen to me!
I sense movement, wheels rolling swiftly
Now I'm descending into a dark place,
towards a room aglow, with a sign above it that says:
Ye who enter, abandon all hope
I let out one last silent scream
My eyes widen as I approach the flames, but I can feel no heat
I hear my inner voice intone a final notation ...
RCN unit #0247895
has been summarily sentenced to a premature cremation
Embodied
Adam’s Rib?
Adam’s Rib, or did you come from Adam’s Rib?,
Were you a progeny of Man,
Or rather grafted by the cosmos, in the image of sacred splendor,
Black Body,
Beautiful and Slender,
Round and Tender,
Is it your shape that compels me to wonder?
Is it your black beautiful shape, in all wondrous compositions and sizes that captures my eye?
Such that I am willing to die that you might rise?
Or is it something deeper?
Oh sleeper awaken!
For it is not the shape or attribute,
It is not the visage of physical perspicacity, or visual euphony that drives us to cherish
your essence,
Is it your mental alacrity?
Your disposition to unlock the secrets of empathy and objective forgiveness?
Perhaps?
But as Mother Earth nurtures me with the blood of water ridden rivers of the Lamb’s sacrifice,
It is your embodied body that is the source of my amazement,
For you are imbued, and empowered,
Glorified and showered,
By the hue of the effervescent infinite,
The eternal love of life and death, rebirth and resurrection,
Has chosen you for a brighter day,
You are the embodied image of a brighter day, where people look to God and pray,
For an end to the madness abounding,
You are astounding,
My black, beautiful sister,
Enshrined in mystery,
Forsaken by history,
But not forgotten by the cloud of witnesses that you serve with abandon,
Lead on my sister,
Lead us on to the ways of light,
Teach us to fight for right, and the sight of blessed unity,
Impunity cannot stop you,
Rejection cannot stifle the sound of your gentle and courageous wisdom,
If we could just listen,
To the Word Made Flesh,
Black, Beautiful, Female, Fearless, and Ferocious,
Imbued with the light of the infinite,
Embodied, Emboldened, Forever.
Amend them errant, wavy ways,
put a cease crease in those idol traditions
Don’t give servile salutes to the droopy god
of billowy doctrines
What price will be paid
for giving homage to carnage superstitions?
Acquiescence of pagan silence ...
wrapped cloth around the pursed mouth
Complicity bandits are making solemn,
stolen moments oaths
in the pulmonary pulse inner sanctum
Sworn statements of allegiance
are wavy by nature
Unstable, irrational reasoning
will sway to and fro with the economic breeze
Bellowing winds are shifting
on the sienna, blood-colored horizon
Nothing is seen amiss tho,
as mercenary valor is uniformly outsourced —
a quiet necessity of paper bought bravery
And the people are told
to go back to a peaceful, covetous sleep
Folding of the hands,
closing of the eyes
Return to a deep REM knee bend,
with prosthetic lungs limping
Green dreams of profit frogs jumping,
pocketbook tea got a war blend
An open casket of lies,
half-mast loyalty be the making of flag demands
Pray to the idol image
that is always pendulum swaying
Folding of the flag,
bury the truth in a pitch black body bag
Purchase a toe tag,
return to sender when the death sales lag
I.
I am one with who I am.
I own my black body
and I cherish my ***** spirit.
In this world, I cannot deny
either, for they both have
equal claim to my existence.
Together and not separate,
black body, ***** spirit.
II.
Silence: noun, “Refusal or failure to speak out.”
My body, covered with the majestic colors of the rainbow.
The decisions I’ve made, engraved on stone—this is who I want to be.
My identity, concealed within cobble-stoned walls of my insecurities.
Unlaced from the very fabric I considered to be my home.
My mouth, filled with tar—I can’t tell my family the truth.
I can’t speak of it.
I faced the glare of those who disapprove of my existence.
Assorted taboos are thrown at my very difference like stones.
I am labeled derogatory words—words profoundly tattooed on my brain tissue.
The tears I’ve cried would spill over in cups.
The bruises’ I’ve endured would make healing impossible.
I can’t speak of it.
Torn between two worlds— however, forced to adapt to both.
My emotions drained; my hopes of liberation depleted; my dreams of existence, misplaced in the sands of time.
I can’t speak of it.
Let me break the silence.
A white sepal falls, it is of the early May bloom,
it is of a blossomed tree
that smothers with the light yielding weight
of its insistence,
that it will be stirred with the gentle wind.
A bee can hover, intent
on its hunger for the floweret's soft pink nectar.
And the black body of the bee
is a deep night, its dawn colored wings
are a flutter of heart strings
that are plucked by the sound of the children
at their delightful play: shouts(orders);
laughter(independence);
a melody of youth sung
as the spring birds
weave a dance over the children's bodies.
A deflated shiny balloon
is the captive of the distant watchful trees
with desert-red buds,
whose limbs shape the faces of ancient spectres,
seen through the snow tints
of the wind blown petals milling an early May.
May 2, 2021