I love the locks that hang so there
In reddish ropes like Samson’s strength
Other adornments can’t compare
Loosely touching his lower back length
the glorious raiment that’s his hair
I run my fingers through the mane
Feeling the spirit of softness
Nothing here of dread remains
As to my lips the sweetness
Each touch like summer rain
My love is but a tower of might
His legs are pillows of steel
His hair is long and pure delight
An essence rare to feel
Black with creeping spectrum white
How much I love his countenance
The wisdom that is he
His locks grow strong with maintenance
There is so much more to see
Blessed daily with God's radiance
09/22/2021
'Quintain (Sicilian)' Poetry Contest
Emile Pinet, Sponsor
Categories:
dreadlocks, black love,
Form: Quintain (Sicilian)
They were not killing the ganja field
They were polluting our land.
Chemically implementing every thing that grow to feed rastaman
The Prime Minister with his weak invention.
Is no longer able to feed us food without chemical.
Everywhere you go you see.
Rasta selling his weed.
Little does he know. They are loaded with
Genetically engineered seed
Dread locks fell off
Baby a bawl
Man can no longer plant on his farm
And sickness plague the land.
We need good governance
Because the one we have
No longer make sense.
Categories:
dreadlocks, care, community, fear, sad,
Form: I do not know?
She wore orange-red dreadlocks
Danced on the horizon far away
Setting the woods on fire
Stirring up all kinds of desire
Roosters arose with voices of power
Sleeply pines in silhouette still stood
Dormant in cold and frozen twigs
She stirred the air to warm and play
Happiness she brought
Sent the cold swiftly away
Categories:
dreadlocks, nature,
Form: Rhyme
A ten-foot-high sunflower man
with a gold-capped tooth in his mouth but
there ain't no plan
yet he wears the same old knotty
dreadlocks again and again
While walking himself through
Black Folk's yard in that bebop-style
no doubt along the avenue road
while smoking some of that sweet sweet Gunga
Yet, him so full of himself
rasta man young rapper
you rapscallion, did you bring the juice
Categories:
dreadlocks, imagination,
Form: Free verse
Friday, October 23, 2009
Most unusual clouds this morning
They look like dreadlocks turned
Gray with streaks of red and pink
Certainly a sky blue sky where
There are no clouds
I see this as beauty but no one
Told me it is beautiful so who is
Observing this scene through my
Eyes saying this is beauty
There is an order to everything
Flowers have certain number
Of petals with leaves arranged
The human eye sees the order
The eye says this is beauty
Who made these so that they see
The ball of sun is showing
Radiating it's glow on the scene
Seen only through the trees
That are silhouetted but not
Totally black just dark
Outlines with sun peeking
Roosters greet the day
With their cock-a-doodle-do
How are you?
Responsiblility calls
Thank you for this time
To commune with God
Categories:
dreadlocks, animals, devotion, imagination, inspirational,
Form: I do not know?