Winding white wind whips
Colorful fall leaves
Like rainbow that drips
Undressing tall trees
Gives brown skirt a lift
Grey squirrel scurrying
Yes, I am. But, my eyes are special.
See, my eyes see through you, walls, time and space.
That’s the way they are: brown, but powerful.
And if I see you, you can’t escape!!
-------
vol 6, Multiples
Unified Call- We speak their names with
Reverence, and the ancestors rise in
The unseen to witness.
The world reads them before it knows them,
But the obscurity answers; their capital is
Older than any bias.
They learn caution too early, discretion too
Young, yet the unseen strolls with them in
Every stride.
Harm pursues them without petition
But protection gathers like a second horizon,
Shifting the air, not today, not this one.
Their names hold history, optimism, and the
Right to grow old, and the ancestors say each
Name is an ancestry of brilliance.
When the world looks away, injustice transforms
Into bold, but the shadows rise; we do not look
Away.
Truth returns to them like a safeguard,
Justice throbs even when unheard, and the
Unseen closes the circle:
Their lives mattered before the world began, and they matter now, fully incessantly.
The shins born of black blood were browning after the thins
So see we earned the gold medal and tried our hand at fins?
She walked into the room without any word, and with familiars eyes staring through her whispering a silent, "Why "?
And then walked past every mirror, hoping her reflection somehow change, become lighter figure.
A little more acceptable to a world that taught to fade when they were born to be seen?
And then she think why did society neglected the darker kids with a fade figure?
Then she stopped and looked at herself.
"I'm beautiful in every way. "
I'm just beautiful in the way I carry myself, ln the way I stand
In the way i represent my self without asking permission to take up space.
Brown skin are natural Tan
Glows with the every kiss the sun leaves upon me.
And my thick hair it is my mink coat, a crown of richness not everyone can afford .
I am the girl
Who learned to love her reflection, the girl who turned her scars into petals _
And the strongest flowers and the ones that“bloom through every season”
Open Mind Words
In this year through my poem,
with truth, my friend —
Viewer,
you who respect a picture that heals,
look.
Reflect the appearance of a mirror.
The explanation of a step
brings the face forward.
You resemble good news
of humanity.
Stand still.
STOP.
An example of doing like that —
reflect so I can look.
You turn around
so I face backwards
to find for myself
the feeling
that I am a real person.
These are my open mind words.
Nna le wena, mogwera,
O tsweletseng Seiponeng
Mantšu a gago a
Ke eme ka maoto bjale.
I am the Space that stretches beyond,
I am the Distance where echoes are gone.
I am measured by light as it drifts through the night,
I am the Infinite, hidden from sight.
August 28
Do you know about him
The little tall man
Living in the brown street
His lips are hard
Like where charcoal is made
He feels high more than alcohol
And always scorn his wild hair
Do you know about the natural leaf
That scorned him
For the first time
He feels his lips
With a sedative herb
And forms a circle in his skin
There are dirts
Waiting to be heaped away
He picks them up by chance
Along with a clipper
He moves with the cloud
Seeing double shadows on the way
Laughing at him
Finally at a waste bin spot
The dirts are abandoned
He picks up the clipper
This is the best place for hair cut
He sits loving the moment
While passersby share laughters
The brown rat tail maggot has a lovely wiggle
He is silent, not even a teeny tiny giggle
Smaller than a matchbox, or bee oh my oh me
From stagnant water drainpipe one crawls to me
We do the cha cha, this rat tail maggot and I
He gets into trash, next to stale blueberry pie
I send him to the landfill on Old Pike Road
He’ll get to devour decayed mold, ala mode
Wherever I may hop
and plop them down
in summer my hind feet
are a shade of brown
yet in winter white
which leave large footprints
each and every night
but then by day
I'll have you know
they give the game away
as is my inborn habit
here there and everywhere
for at best I'm less a rabbit
more a snowshoe hare
The Little Brown Church
By
J.A. Long
I belong to the honest little brown church on Simpson Road
The one that everybody passes like Levites in a hurry
Perhaps looking for something kind of furry critter
Or perhaps for a house sitter at the very last minute
Perhaps even for a Spinet
The little brown church that is located directly across the street
From the popular yellow colored diner
But on the same side of the street which
Usually has more parking spaces than cars
The little church that needs more people
Including students for its quiet Sunday School
The little church that was once larger on
Third Street- you must know the one
Mend white fences until you see
Harm in lies neglect denim deceit
As one crying wolf in dark night surprise
Is beast in sheep clothing evil disguise
I tend to lend empathetic emerald ear
Until there’s a reason for caution fear
Narcissistic people cause much pain
Drop them they’re toxic as acid rain
Then burn those bridges fire red
Don’t forget they get in your head
With twisted hearts and black greed
Don’t be a victim instead break free
from wreck of leaves
autumn flickers softly
changing brown to white
Invasions I fear
How good am I with the sword?
I protect brown skin
Oil spread across blank canvases
W
i
l
d
reigning over the smudges I tossed
crimsons and violets and fuchsias galore...
merging together to form a tree bark hue
the deepening browns often relate the most~
unique and fertile as the shades can ever become
wild and bitter like lattes blended with vanilla
down to earth and relaxed as a warm light source
making my skin go reddened and vibrant
like parakeets nesting in trunks and serenading
or moss clinging to nearby marble, discovering a home
sort of like a fashion statement, a mild accessory
but these browns won't linger in silhouettes
just keep me pacified and add to soft ambiance
while aiding to the beauty of belonging
and the silkiness of softness which surrounds us~
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