You smell like sweet roses,
But I've smelled the sweat of the weak.
My sight is as keen as an eagle's eyes;
I see the chains, rusted from years of injustice, binding the meek.
Segregation tried to tear us apart;
Tried to break our spirits, but we stood unbroken.
Like Carlotta Walls, I keep my head held high,
Disregarding the lies.
Even when the ground is unstable,
I feel the weight of all the cries,
But still, my will is unshakable.
Racism tried to steal our pride;
It tried to silence our voices,
But the roar in my protests shakes the sky.
Is it pain that makes you shy?
We taste the bitter ash of sorrow,
Long, hard fights.
I hear the whispers of a dream—
Thunder-loud, like the King's words shaking the nights.
The statues speak, but they are silent.
They don’t tell the battles we’ve fought,
The struggles we’ve survived.
Segregation tried to tear us apart;
It tried to divide us, but we remain unbroken.
Yet here we are, stronger than before.
Like the Proclamation’s call, we break the chains;
The day will rise — not just with light, but with our truth.
Cinderella had fun at the ball
with her Prince charming, handsome and tall.
It got late and she would
run home fast as she could-
but one slipper fell off in a fall.
The Prince found it and let people know
he must find Cinderella, although
her glass shoe needs to fit-
those that don't, he'll omit.
The contenders did soon come and go.
Not one woman could match the small size.
Surely most of them did agonize!
But her mean stepsisters
chose to be enlisters
made a plan for large feet to disguise!
They then cut off some toes and the heel
disregarding the pain they would feel
planned to fool the Prince who
placed one shoe and withdrew!
As blood flowed, he collapsed with a squeal!
Cinderella forgave them for this-
took them under her wing with some bliss.
Found them men to soon wed.
At the wedding, instead-
pigeons plucked their eyes out with a hiss!
TIME
Thought of all the seconds,
That went like a mist at dawn.
Tried to hold all the minutes for lifetime
But it flowed like water with no grapple
Waited for the hours of fortunes that I desiderate
As you are the sun that quenches every soul of an incarnate
But being in you can burn the spirits with fiery fire
Hastened to get rid of the all the days of stormy clouds
Disregarding the silver linings around them that one needs to count on
And learned that you are the equinox of every mortal
Hoped for the years to go right
never disappointed even when the right seems to be left
All the ups and downs you placed
All the love and hatred you showered
All the laughs and cries that I held
Trickled in the brink of the eye
Waiting for you at the edge of the door
where you passed like a breeze that never noticed
Awaiting all the moments to fill again
my enewed refreshed resolve sparkles
like copper, aluminum, silver, gold, sequins
nourished by necromancy, I blaze toward victory
disregarding the naysayers, Shale and Granite
They lost their sparkle a long time ago, in the dark ages
I soar toward the path of freedom, loving my pure glitziness.
More alive than I have ever been.....
This was inspired by: Mike Gentile
His poem is entitled : Confessions Of A Youngster, At Heart
Whoever thought one day I'd let my hair go gray and walk with a sway
"They are only laughter lines" I told myself, disregarding a wrinkle in time.
I promised to be one of those ladies who would look suave at sixty five,
but when you see me walk down the isle, I cannot hide that lombar slide.
I will wear dresses of fresh linen with only leather belts that buckle,
and when my shaky hands refuse to still, I'll blame it on my knuckles !
When I looked into the mirror then,... all I saw was a pretty girl,
but now I see two kindly eyes and a memory impearled !
I rise at 6 and retire at 9, I sleep on my side for the one I adore,
lovie says that when I snore, it sounds like a lion's roar !
I am happy with my life,
and although I lose my train of thought sometimes,
I still wake up every morning feeling grateful,
that I am still able to dress, to the nines...
The grime of shoes can bring someone a prize,
along with hands that serve orphans and poor.
Examined dust, that walked the narrow way,
disregarding themselves, loved to their core.
But, selfish feet are caked, forevermore,
having poured drinks until the break of day,
can’t make it to one’s bed, sleeping on floor.
The grime of shoes gathers offals and flies.
The thunder sounds from far away,
wild wind runs before it carrying whispers
of the coming storm.
Clouds are dark and gray
like cloistered nuns escaping hell,
and bursting out with rain.
Lightning flashes her skirts
and her consort thunder gives chase,
disregarding those beneath their feet.
Wind and rain keep the beat
of the storm's tempestuous dance,
becoming cyclone's destructive stance.
"Spontaneity is childlike wonder, it is simplicity, abandon and
curiosity; but, it takes 'courage' to embrace the unexpected."
Quote by _Constance
I like to write free,
to just drift in whimsey and rhyme:
just brave me,
fancy free;
writing on a whim where I shine !
My words twirl and dance,
muse, and me in a childlike play:
happenstance,
we enhance;
and like magic words float and sway !
Winging it in peace,
I entwine in a trance serene:
to release,
what's beneath,
often muse takes me to fields green !
Disregarding rule,
in reckless abandon I write:
call me fool,
or jewel;
free my words soar into the light !
"Discarding narrow thought flow crutch
we learn directly by soft touch
and what we garner we relay
to the vast void in childlike play
entwined thus with the universe
we dance without need to rehearse"
I’ve not been one to take it slow,
just like the tulips break through snow,
in eager haste to taste of Spring.
So likewise I want everything.
Each day more warm,
each day more green…
is there anything but Spring?
I’ve never been one who did not dare,
like young birds strive to take to air,
disregarding the fear of fall.
So likewise I’ll pursue it all.
Each day more warm,
each day more green…
is there anything but Spring?
I’ve not been one to sit it out,
like busy bees who buzz about,
in endless rounds of colored view.
So likewise I have much to do,
Each day more warm,
each day more green…
is there anything but Spring?
I’ve never been one for second thought,
just like the river never stops,
but always moves along its course.
So likewise I have no remorse.
But as the days grow warmer still,
I must admit the thought bares chill -
that days of Spring won’t always last,
and Summer heat approaches fast.
Each day now warm,
the world now green…
why can’t it just stay Spring!
This is what the wicked are like— always free of care, they go on amassing wealth. Surely in vain I have kept my heart pure and have washed my hands in innocence ~ Psalm 73:12-13
A wise man long ago bemoaned the thought
that those who seek the paths of righteousness
so often struggle mightily. Their lot
seems only to be wreathed in hopelessness.
Meanwhile, the wicked reap rich dividends
while disregarding others' poverty -
they'll use whatever means may suit their ends,
neglecting justice, love, humility.
Believers know "these three remain" to guide
up peaks appearing insurmountable:
Faith is that trust in Him who walks beside;
Hope is that blessed wealth uncountable;
and Love, which guides us to eternity -
For "God is love", the greatest of the three.
Many have entertained a cloaked angel
unaware of its presence
They bring presents for those without an angle
in the form of many blessings
Here's a lesson for those who act ill
toward their brethren for a coin
You're headed toward the wrath of divine will
without knowing where you're going
Some go on sewing webs of much deceit
disregarding getting caught
As they're facing the fate they will meet
they try returning what they bought
Be careful crossing a bridge you can't burn
for karma is soon to follow
Everyone surely gets what they have earned,
so your efforts are never hollow
As humanity unfolds you can see the convenience of the buried secrets society has left to disregarding the inevitable point of curiosity humans always have for we unshroud anything we can produce as indecipherable. As the dirt is further dug we shall only find ourselves to be consumed by the great leviathan that which its appellation as we all are aware is called the great unknown or as I see it the whispering void. then our shells consumed among the worms nothing more than more secrets locked away.
There's something special about Morgan's quilts
the fabrics blend like a romantic rendezvous
colors race like a comet in some
or stand like still water in others
like a gypsy patterns dance or
sing of lullaby in a windy whisper
It's hard to pick a favorite
I like them all because they fit my moods
Each quilt has a story...a life
and feverishly pulls it's own history
methodically before your eyes
thread by thread united in oneness by love
and a gift of warmth and reminiscent charm
Bits of cloth join as if born into family
never judging...but giving
disregarding color, caste, nationality
only concerned with a common creed
To be shaped by Morgan's hands in to art
that God wills because much is required
of those that much is given
and Morgan is a giver
Yes, there's something special about Morgan's quilts
and only he can tell their stories
What am I? Who am I?
Not the one who believes what I am.
You know me? Yet I don't even know myself.
A figure of a make-belief arrogance.
Simply because I'm Human.
Afraid to show. Afraid to tell.
All I know is I am human.
One that leads his thoughts with emotion.
Scared of death and the fleeting time.
So scared that "he" can't help but cry all the time.
If I'm alive, am I human?
But what about the beasts outside?
Are they human?
If I fall with my own hands, am I human?
Blessed with all the imperfections?
Disregarding the furless skin,
Without remorse to it's own kin.
Is that Human?
My reflection shows that I am Human.
But am I really human?
Not some beast or an alien?
Who am I? What I am?
If who am I is what I am,
Then what am I?
But simply only human.
If I get angry, sad, and happy,
Is that being human?
Not a lie told by constant hypocrisy?
If I can be like the birds that fly,
Can I be the same as those who pass by?
If human is what I am, then...
"Are you human?"
What is the cost of freedom?
And who shall foot the bill?
The rich will ever be richer,
The poor will be poorer still.
Broken lives and broken dreams,
Brought on by others greed.
Broken vows and broken schemes,
Disregarding others needs.
Some driven by their lies,
But still the fact remains.
Put their plans to rest,
Or wake up bound by chains.
The time has come for all,
To take a common breath.
To share each other's life,
Or share each other's death.
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