Best Narrator Poems
"I edit the 'Narrator in My Head..."
to speak to me only
in the positive instead"
The day I was diagnosed.
That’s what first comes to mind.
But they want me to start at the beginning.
Maybe they mean something as simple as my childhood.
I wasted my childhood not knowing.
Then I wasted my teen years being in denial.
But still, the image of my life scattered.
Forcing me to collect new pieces to the puzzle.
Pieces that will never fit.
Yet my collection grows hopelessly.
The second time I was diagnosed.
That is the second event.
Maybe it’s easier to start from that point in time.
And explain everything more and more erratically.
Until I’ve explained everything until this moment.
Now I can narrate what is about to happen.
You will walk away nervously.
And I will walk away graciously.
Going home to frantically write and scribble.
Finding the right formula.
There’s still a few more people left in my life who deserve an explanation.
The day I was diagnosed…
Is not what matters now.
The narrator tells the story
And everyone gives their attention
They are listening accordingly
In order to understand the situation
Today's youth are encouraged
To get a valuable education
In order to become a leader tomorrow
And step forward in a positive direction
It was dark,
We were six,
The air was filled with the heavy smell of cigarettes and weed,
Some drank, 'I' did too.
You were dancing to the rhythms of jazz.
And you were gazing at the stars.
While you stared into your phone screen.
She and him talked.
And you... You were silent.
Maybe thinking
"What was the conversation?"
"What was that noise?"
"What transpired?"
And then she spoke words devoid of meanings,
Words that were abused till it bled,
Words that were round,
Words that were opaque,
Words that actually never left her mouth.
The smiling faces soon disappeared,
Confused and gloomed,
They left.
But he stayed.
What did 'I' feel?
Like,
The slithers of snake,
Shaking of the earth,
Torrent of rain,
Choked.
And then 'I' forgot.
Till today.
This story is hell to tell
I have a hell of a story to tell
After I have auctioned off
my sisters to the highest bidder
and my sinful soul is deemed worthy to sell
To the seventh heaven of wonder and bliss
I am the story
Sometimes I appear frail and uncared for
With similes dancing ontop of these discordant prose of violent men and women seeking justice for these many countless, meaningless deaths
I am the metaphor that caressed a broken lyric of spirits crying for the many aborted babies that poetry could have mothered
So listen attentively
I am the ending you would have never expected
To a story you never heard from the horse's mouth
The opportunity was stolen from you
And you never got it back
These lies all around you are created so that you may be deceived
You see
I am one of the many people who kill
Rape, and molest little kids
And I am still the highest form of crime your leaders could never face in the courts
I am the truth they keep hidden
And upon being discovered, I am constantly turned into a conspiracy
And so it ends
With some random guy's head on a metal stake
With someone's child being arrested for a crime he didn't commit
With someone's grandma getting raped in the bushes
Getting left alone to ponder her shame a few minutes before taking her own life
With someone being disgusted at someone different to them in colour
The story is told, but the bold man refuses to hear it because he clings to a broken past
From which his mind shall never bring him back.
I am the narrator, and the narrative
The End.
SHADOW NARRATOR- -
As I speak I am the darkness
Beneath the sheets
Of under your bed
And as you rise and turn on the lights
I am your shadow, which follows you
I am behind yet your spirit smiles
I am in front as you turn around
I am your follower, but yet not your comforter
When you’re outside under the sun
I am your darkness, behind you
I follow your every move
Yet you choose to deny me
I am behind yet your spirit smiles
As I speak I am the darkness
Beneath the lights and the sun and you
I am under your feet yet I’m behind and over you
I’m not a monster yet I’m apart of you
Through the lights you only see me, through
My skins always black,
Sometime you don’t know where I’m at
I am your shadow, which follows you
I am behind yet your spirit smiles
I am in front as you turn around
I am your follower, but yet not your comforter
As you stand in front and under the sun and lights
Lo!, I am shadow and I can be any gender
No matter your genre I’m yet behind you I am
Shadow……..
10/2/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
Written for Project North Omaha Writers Group (NOW) assignment
Poetry: Assignment Shadow Character Being
Did I ever tell you that my sister finished school
I know you’re still mad at me but you always loved her
Pretend I’m not the one talking to you; pretend it’s just the narrator
Of your story, not mine. I know they’re separate now
She’s doing really well, my sister
She misses you