In the sweet spring air,
We love a long walk.
I fancy he listens
As I blabber and talk.
I playfully sigh
Once we come in the door —
Someone’s muddy paws
Have painted the floor.
In the hot summer air,
We drive to the beach.
He pulls off my flip flop,
And runs out of reach.
As dusk settles in,
He nips at a firefly;
While never successful,
He loves to just try.
In the brisk fall air,
I need time to breathe,
But he begs, “one more time,
Throw my ball to retrieve!”
When I bring out the pumpkin,
He wants his fair share.
I say, “down boy, down!”
But he acts unaware.
In the cold winter air,
Snow lands on his face . . .
Just a second of calm —
Then a squirrel to go chase!
Only back inside does he now shake off,
Melting snow and frost cascading.
I groan but deep down I know:
What makes his personality his own
Are his quirks and irks,
Misdeeds and misleads,
Imperfection but true affection,
That I would, of course, never consider trading.
water flowing
i move not
unfortunate that i will have to leave quickly
i think about all that are no longer here
the water's sound eases my mind like it knows
i move not
unfortunate that life and time waits for nobody's nothin'
i think about being late
i think about not showing up
i think about those ugly ole ramifications
water flowing
humbled, i move now
i reluctantly get in my temperamentally mental car and hesitatingly depart
Like me,
my Poetry is far from perfect
—a verbal oxen gored
Like me,
my words are often frail and broken
—still crying to be heard
In me,
the message has found its student
—to humbly expound
In me,
the truth can accept a birthmark
—for a promise more profound
Unto me,
the burden is left to finish
—my life to pledge headlong
Unto me,
the words now free, unsentenced
—change imperfectly to song
(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)
There was something that had been going on in my mind,
I wish I could press the button of rewind,
And go back and play my life again and maybe live it better,
I wanted to go back and undo the things I did,
The emotions that I hid,
The opportunities that I had lost,
The love that came with a cost ,
Then suddenly I hear this voice from inside,
Saying you were born perfectly imperfect,
You weren't born to intersect,
You were born imperfect and thats fine,
It because of your past that you're where you are today,
And you're in a good place I must say,
So what if things are tough right now,
So what if you need take a little bow,
So what if things aren't going your way,
There is always a new start of a day,
We are imperfect,
We all have made mistakes,
We all need something that can give us some stake,
We can never perfect our imperfections,
We can never go straight in just one direction,
To learn new things we need to go to different places,
We need to stumble before we become the aces,
So don't think of changing your past,
It was only for a few moments that it had to last...
All my life I've been called
-The skinny girl
-You're too thin
-The fragile girl
I was bullied for the size I was born with and can't help fixing it to their perfection
Always getting disgusting looks in their eyes
And the unending questions of - HOW and WHY I'm so skinny
People can be thoughtless of how their words may cut deeper than a knife
Often I'd walked away with stinging pain spreading in my chest while hot tears flowing hastily
I used to wonder if being skinny was so inhuman and was it worth living
I used to believe that being naturally skinny was perfectly ugly
Everyone is trying to feed me
I've tried many styles of massages
I've consumed many local herbals and vitamins prescribed by doctors
I've tried all there is to gain
Yet none has really does anything.
-Because I was born just the way God has create me to His perfection
I was beaten in their criticisms upon my waistline size
I was angry to the world
-But upon realizing how mean people can be
I've changed since and
Love my imperfectly skinny self... (Smile)
Written by Akkina R Downing
11-13-16
Like me,
my Poetry is far from perfect,
—a verbal oxen gored
Like me,
my words are often frail and broken,
—still crying to be heard
In me,
the message has found its student,
—to very humbly expound
In me,
the truth can accept a birthmark,
—for a promise more profound
Unto me,
the burden is left to finish,
—my life to pledge headlong
Unto me,
the words now free—unsentenced,
change imperfectly to song
(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)
We spend our whole lives
trying to be special
As infants we cry for attention and
As teens we cry for no reason at all
Sometimes it feels as though we speak a language
only our minds can understand
We spend years feeling alone
and “misunderstood”
Mirrors become a battleground for the attacking inner voices
Reality becomes less distinguishable
A fear sets in
“Who am I?”
Panicked by uncertainty we hide behind masks
The rebel, the hippy, the jock
Now more lost than before we break
Feeling naked and vulnerable
We stare at our spotted skin through puffy eyes
Then a wave of clarity shocks our senses
A laugh escapes a pair of thin pink lips
Who am I?
Who we are is not the refection in a mirror
But what we choose to see
I'm Not Sorry For Being Imperfectly Perfect
For being me I have never need a reason to say I'm sorry for expressing who I am.
Should man of perfect balance take his chance and jump the bridge that he man think he won't make?I say I can never be sorry for being me,so why are you? Can I not make a honest living being my simple self?Should I say sorry for being out forward?Maybe time is not nor ever be able to except people who have greater changes themselves.I am never be sorry for i am perfect I am me I shall never pretend to be a doll for someone who would treat me like a mat.What can be called when the youth speak of thing only knowledge by age?should their elder worry not for the sake of children who dance and feel free in there own skin.I say not for i am a freeman who does as he please but remains calm to collect,I shall never be sorry for being flawed for being dumb for being straight forward and just being me all the same.But the question which shall stick with me,will you say sorry for being imperfect perfection?
the disarray of your atmosphere
deep in subtle mess
yet your smile
ca,ms like the sea
how imperfectly perfect
brooding in your thoughts of pain
carved their names in your heart
your gift from HIM you hide
isolating yourself from hurting eyes
yet your star a symbol of hope
how imperfectly perfect
rough on diverged roads
scared of the wrong choice
yet a smile you keep on board
deceptive they say, but smart i believe
how imperfectly perfect
disturbed is your heart
yet happy for your mate
unknown to them
soulful is your act
so imperfectly perfect
I have your picture on my phone
It's what I see before I go to bed
So that when I finally sleep
Your smiling face is in my head
I'll dream of you tonight
And I'll wake with a smile on my face
I'll tell my self today will be great
And I'll probably end up at your place
We'll be laughing like nothing is wrong
And I'll act like I'm just fine
Play a few rounds of shoot em up
Drinking Landshark with Lime
Friend before lover
You are and so am I
To me you'll always be for me
The imperfectly perfect guy