Long Descendent Poems
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"Descendent of Eve"
by: Eric L. Boddie
As she walked through the door, I recall a shortness of breath
My heartbeat fluttered, my palms moistened, my mind drew a blank, but no pain was felt
My mouth became dry, and my eyes and ears became lost in her motion
And with only a glance, the sway of her hips became the muse for my every notion
After closer examination, sweat, in the form of a single drip
Made its way down my forehead as the glass approached her lips
Then, the rumbling of my stomach, the butterflies were on the move
Because my eyes had never touched legs that appeared to be oh so smooth
I wanted to get up, but I could hear the buckling of my knees
And the unmentionable, it was like what happens to water if you let it freeze
Now that was many years ago, but like yesterday is what it seems
Because ever since that moment, she has been featured in all of my dreams
To her sight, I have become addicted, that's the strongest word I can think of
For me, it only took a glance, and I, instantly, fell in Love
I Love her hair, I Love her toes, don't get me started on the things in between
She is God's Greatest Creation, next to Him, her being reigns supreme
And now that I'm a man, on her curves, I am still dependent
That's the only way I can explain my jealousy of the infant
Addiction, desire, infatuation or lust, you can call it whatever you believe
But I would go crazy without her, I'm in Love with the descendent of Eve
The Curse on The First Love
I cannot marry you I must take another
The love I felt for you was really as a brother
The girl is astounded as his child grows within her
She know it’s a lie now how could she endure
The young girl curses as the village she leaves
The man left behind now for him she will grieve
He chose another under great family pressure
She cursed all and his like for taking this measure.
The century’s passed but the curse still endured
The first love of each man or woman incurred
The wrath of the Witch that cursed years ago
When her first love abandoned for wealth, or she thought so.
A young girl a descendant of that first Witch fell in love with a boy
But the father was not happy and said there would be no joy
The girl was not good enough for his beloved son
He would marry for money or he would marry no one
The girl was angry and hurt beyond her belief
She heard of the curse and to assuage her grief
She called down the wrath of the Witch on the mans first love
She got on her knees and prayed to above
The father of the boy fell under the curse
His first love disappeared and what was made worse
The Witch’s descendent he knew the story of
But the girl was his daughter and was born out of love.
The grief of the father, of the boy he would not let wed
Had struck home at the family right at the head
The girl from next door was gone, his first love no more
The daughter given birth too by his sweet paramour.
13/02/2012 Entry For The Twisted Minds Contest
Redding Poem 2
"Sacramento River WordScape"
These descendent waters swim like mad lagoon fish,
Heading decidedly south with a fiery mindless turn,
Their cool liquid urgencies reaching to all sides enticing
The bosomy turning earth and its pectoral indecencies,
With an impotent power unknown to anyone alive now,
As watery signatures knife their way into the crestfallen sand bars,
Adrift in an ambiguous undertow of death-marked reticences;
Swimming and floating lazily as a red lily floats downstream,
Enveloped cooly in blue clarity, absorbed by diamond sureness,
These arching trees lapping inward the reeking salmon atoms,
As rippling currents of heaving hands and wild bone sneezes,
Salvage the unsalvageable, and a solitary blue bird
Jiggling a crimson ring, as it bobs upon its ascended perch.
Das papa anathema & furor he hiss toward patriarchal hierarchy
Courtesy mine eldest sister Amelie
Beth (thirteen plus months my senior),
whose maternal love equals heart as emoji,
she nsync with other kith and kin
painstakingly fleshed out family tree,
formerly severely uprooted, me
knowledge of ancestry
truncated, denuded..., bereft
any extended offshoots you see,
thus without doubt earned a priori
gene nee us award for peopling bee
silly decorative swallowtail and
wild asparagus coat of arms motif,
but particularly her artistry
paternal branch Harris and
maternal Russian limb named Kuritsky,
yet now unwittingly feel stumped
I ruminate, speculate, tabulate..., re:
garding one or more descendent did trumpet
objectionable bent with bias, decadent,
flagrant... haughty jarring averse trait
invariably patriarchal heir arch key
impossible impossible to hold figurative tongue
and rebuke stereotypical tendency
resigning, excluding, kraaling..., privileges
to any persons except Caucasian wealth thee
males, who fathered established, commandeered...
western civilization paradigm, I smart
with displeasure at gross injustice curtailed free
choice to acquire unshackled life, liberty,
and pursuit amidst avast booming population,
whose supposed inalienable rights blithely
usurped and denigrated creed, ethnicity,
and indisputably those with frizzy
hair still evident this late date two thousand
nineteen, I decry, grieve, lament,... particular lee
how women haint got no choice - chattel
to grand poobahs - to terminate pregnant sea
really irksome, when predicted on incest, rape
non viable offspring...violation this
garden variety poetaster recoils with knee
jerk loathsome, how young females jailed
if they undergo abortion
(with unwanted, unloved, unborn..., bay bee
thru no fault in their own stars),
punishment nasty, brutal and abhorrent
essentially enslaving the gentler sex lee
ving terror and horror, when peering into mirror
ogre looming ready to strangle gal lest she
obey mandate else...
Tulips and lilies never emitted their scent
so fragrantly and exhilarating...
by the lake of the descendent moon,that
I intensively sense the affable mystery of the evening!
Remote breezes,unforeseen and redolent,do
capriciuosly caress the brilliant surface
of the silvery lake,softened by a gentle silence;
only those red-throated dives can disarm it in their pursue!
The huge oaks,boasting their tallness,bow
and glance at the narrow paths,below,
verging on the aromatic grass glistening with fireflies...
where bitter-roots and goldenrods are their constant companions!
Someone is sitting by the peaceful waterfront in obeisance...
staring at the North Star: seemingly so reachable,but far;
as he,pleasantly and devotedly,strikes the srings of a guitar
with his invigorating and skillful fingers!
And suddenly everything,hidden by graceful shadows,harmonizes
itself with his melody...beautifully played in enduring patience;
unhesitatingly,he joins the incessant nightgales
to praise the persistent tranquillity enhanced by the Creator's presence!
Mideast Peace: Oxymoron
Though descendent of Jews,
I feel boggled at the brutal,
nasty and wanton war between
Israelis and Palestinians.
Many innocent victims
bred to know and hate their enemy
impossible mission
to reconcile one Semitic
group of peoples from another.
The bloody English
begat and fomented
debacle between Israelis and Palestinians.
little more than a century ago,
particularly usurping territory
courtesy aggressive premise
might makes right.
The human species
hell bent on making war
reprisals rank as a ,
and can never even the score
I harken back to childhood,
when our family lived
at Lantern Lane, and the Dailey's
(who threw rocks at Georgie
our Dalmation/Boxer)
rightfully earned before their time
the title fear thy neighbor
an altercation such
as aforementioned above,
would easily earn a spot
on Investigation Discovery
though deadly crimes violently hardcore
reenacted minus the explicit killing
fields not healthy for children
and other living things,
nevertheless even the most pious
and peace loving
exhibit fervent bloody ardour
if kith and kin held at gunpoint.
The annals of civilization
since time immemorial
replete with chronicles
of battlefield bravura
touting (with laurels of profuse praise)
for ultimate sacrifice
unnaturally, unstintingly, and unwaveringly
bravely giving oneself
to father/mother land.
Beneath the surface of the skin
we all bleed;
mortal kombat inked
in Mesolithic Europe
likewise dates to circa 10,000 years ago,
and episodes of warfare appear
to remain "localized
and temporarily restricted"
during the Late Mesolithic
to Early Neolithic period in Europe.
Idyllic as the fantastical utopian yen,
I feel pessimistic patriarchal wheelman
who steer autocratic
leviathan of state (witness Tiananmen
Square student-led demonstrations
known in Beijing, China
as the June Fourth Incident
lasting from 15 April to 4 June 1989)
cuz twentieth century ruthless demagogues
wanted to squelch
pro-democracy movement,
and not only stole demonstrators thunder
but forcefully co-opted with lightning force
their toys such as:
sophisticated erector set and playpen
for dolls loving buoys Barbie and ken
the former coming to life
as a miniature equestrienne
experiencing magical realism.
I am a garden pansy, a descendent of the family Viola,
poet's write praises of me not just these days;
but in the days of Spencer and Shakespeare, I am that old,
I am a small flower but a garden survivor.
You planted me in early Spring in the partial sun,
I love the sun and soon showed my purple face;
I am a cheerful upturned bright and happy garden flower,
symbolizing thinking and thoughts for you.
In the summer months butterflies caress my petals,
and bees steal my nectar but I have tons;
I love watching the birds fluttering about the garden,
oh, chipmunks bite 'cause I am edible !
Poets That We Are…
Poets are umbilical cords—
chosen links of the pregnant mind
and its births—amniotic guardians
of the poetic descendent.
As mere servants of the word,
we cannot be more of an apostle
than that of: Humble.
Let us who write, worthily walk
in our own integrity;
man judges—The Most High chooses.
We’ve been blessed with the creativity
of the griots and muses of our own reality.
No longer must we let ourselves be led astray;
rather, let us forever write truth each blessed day.
When the keyboard, cobwebbed in silence,
ceases to ink, let not stillness miscarriage the word;
and may our creativity become like Lazarus.
In the same domain as I released several days ago
A magpie with foot caught in wooden mouse trap
Aves my baby is a Saviour, her soul beauty a show
Freedom breadth materialised in blessed moment
Limping gives way to delivery, staid cage collapsed
River snake jaw compels ocean, propels hope that
Latitude comes upon compiled memory's sure flow
Broadsword my boy taught firm ethics keeps pride
Strength activated matures to be a bold protector
Man of moral multitude, by vital sacrifices inspired
A A B expands her brain, guards precious treasure
Chaste of spirit assists needy, heart always in tact
17th December
- descendent -
Once we were a room,
a space for the spilling of pagan oaths,
for the pleading of primal prayers.
Now that room rages
upon an emptiness only my blood hears.
Bondage was good for us.
“You’re not my master”, she would say,
“you are me taking me”. She was right,
I would lose myself in her.
She’s related to George Washington,
at least by sexual union.
A man of his time.
A black girl for all times.
As her descendent she shared herself with me.
I imagine her now as she arranges
the form and flavors of desire.
Her skin a sensual braille for my shaping hands.
Her limbs submissive yet grasping a
binding chimera. Flesh capturing silks;
blind Labial dances preface
a choreography of complying violence.
We struggle with the glottal language
of inarticulate gods,
we’re deep sea divers bound to an erotic gravity.
This place is a womb
for the birthing of tattooing hungers.
Rooms enter rooms until dark suns
open our mouths with their electric flares.
Somewhere in another story,
an aged Washington shoves
his shriveled member
into another girl – another room.
A place we were pleased to burn down
again, and again.