Long Given birth Poems
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The Truth is the Gift of Gods Word
for it's understanding the habitation has stirred
softly upon spirit we listen to it's call
comprehension to it's voice like a seed is small
Can you understand the wise man's riddle
apprehend interpretation the narratives trail
from beginning to end surround the middle
without understanding it's Truth you may fail
Upon the Truth are your heavens fixed
the hearing upon earth with lies are mixed
to many have reached a state of complacency
the cares of this life has choked ability
You lead upon paths unknown
a flight those having wings have flown
I tell you upon the rise of each day
that you must lead and show us the way
Oh Shepherd like a lamb you guide me
for I am lost to the flock without thee
My Lord and my God you have called us out
faith in you but confidence in self do doubt
With every gesture you affirm the way
yet evermore before me do my sins lay
I look around upon those I do see
whose lives are worth much more than me
The seventh day Jehovah has blessed
where mankind will enter into his rest
abundance of joy will fill the earth
as Gods Kingdom has given birth
The fruit of her labor is worldwide
she will wipe the tears her children have cried
Gods woman has brought forth Life
she will train the children remove their strife
You are God from the womb of my mother
have preserved me from violence of brother
your handmaiden as captive I serve
given more than anyone here deserve
I listen to the music of your call
understand I grace given since fall
for to live is Christ and to die gain
and within the hand of your Love remain
Forsake me not when I reach that hour
frail woman in mankind has not power
give me courage so I don't therein cower
for I have beheld the future from your tower
Oh my gentle Lord your path holds no discord
our seas turned to glass when we do as asked
neath your wisdom do kneel as truth you reveal
all thinking given you and insight given true
Hold me close and in your arms
for hear I do the trumpets alarms
you have signified my death
for those you love I give my breath
Hold my hand on the path you take
for I am weak and easily brake
a thing that is soft and frail
for those you love like Lord impale
Now I know the path to you
by example your loved showed true
willing I am to give you my life
like anointed Son did for wife
source JOHN 3:16 Romans 12:1-2
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
I remember my mom having a collection of hats she stored under her bed.
For any occasion that could arise…she had a hat to set atop her head.
Moms of today are different…often they go out with their heads bare
because of this we don’t often realize…all the hats they wear.
If we tried to count all their hats...we can’t…for the list goes on indefinitely
perhaps one way to approach it...would be alphabetically.
Moms are Accountants, Babysitters, Chauffeurs...They do what Doctors, and Electricians do
They are Farmers, Governors, Housekeepers, and Ice cream vendors too.
They are Janitors, Kitchen and Laundry workers, and Maids who clean the floor.
They are Nurses, Optometrists, Painters, Quality control inspectors…there’s more.
They are Receptionists, Seamstresses, Teachers…Umpires…and not always soft spoken…they are Valets, Wardens, X-Ray technicians who can tell if that bone is broken.
They are Youth counselors and every Mom I know is a keeper of the Zoo
If you’re keeping track that’s 26 different hats...26 different jobs that all Moms do.
Moms are the original and still the best multitaskers the world has ever met.
In fact, I didn’t run out of hats for them...I ran out of alphabet.
I guess it’s a good thing each job doesn’t have a hat that sits atop Moms head
for there wouldn’t be enough room to store them in boxes beneath their beds.
They are visionaries, they are cheerleaders, so much of our existence they adorn
yet they had no experience being a mom until their first child was born.
For it was at that miraculous moment in a panic mixed with calm
when the doctor handed them their baby and said, “Congratulations…you’re a Mom!”
And to any Mom who might not have given birth…might not have been there from the start…here’s to all the Mom hats you’ve worn once you opened up your heart.
Do you remember that miraculous feeling…with a mixture of panic and calm…
whether you chose the moment…or the moment chose you…
when you became a Mom?
And therein lies the hat that encompasses all the rest...the hat called motherhood
and to all you Moms out there…I must admit…you make that hat look good.
So to all the Moms everywhere,
here’s wishing you a wonderful Mother’s Day…for all the things you do…
for all the many hats you wear…
our hats are off to you.
No Matter The Floor You Pass Out On
I awake as any other madman slash poet.
Apon the floor naked pizza box for pillow a members only jacket for a blanket.
yes the libary sure has changed over the years.
less and less people were reading buggets were cut meaning
libraryies were under staffed and rarely did anyone dare venture into
the stacks and thank good for that. Cause being i preffered free sleeping
it was probaly for the best.
but no matter the the floor you pass out on most all fine
american men wake up with are god given birth rite.
That which after a trip to the restroom like
that early morning madness that was christmas pressent openning
was over way to fast and was kinda disapointing.
Floors werent the best beds in the world in fact they
sucked altogather but drinking and common sense dont even
belong in the same room togather.
Portsmouth Va was a strange world indeed a place where upscale colided with skidrow.
Me I preffer the company of a outdoor sleeper to that of a
spoiled spoon fed yuppie turd.
the art school cranked out angst ridden buble people by the second.
They walked the street soaking in the pain of life.
there heads stuck so far up there asses I always felt compeled to trip them as they walked
by.
acting as though they were outsiders yerning to be mainstream
they'd rape there mothers on a mtv reality show as dad cried in the background.
Just for a taste of stardom.
True talent who needs that?
but no matter the floor you pass out on one
thing was clear.
In a world were you could have a bus load
of kids and get paid for it.
fame wasnt such a rare thing anymore.
The floor I passed out on was cold and cruel but surrounded
voices from the past.
the floor these hollow reallity show bottom feeders
passed out on. Had to besoft as there heads.
Otherwise there brains would splatter across the floor.
And some TV exect would have a brainstorm to have a show
were washed up celebrities would have a contest.
To see who could bore us the most with there sob story
Yes friends id rather have a pizza box for a pillow
than a reality show pillbox for a brain.
and the truth effectsus all form no matter
which floor so you do choose to pass out on.
when she gets home
after working a ten hour shift
he is sitting in a chair in the living room waiting for her---
on one hand he wears a white glove
it is still clean,
and he smiles at her,
telling her that she has passed the “glove test” once again---
yes, she was able to dust the rooms so thoroughly
that when he traced the corners & all the nooks & crannies,
not a smidgeon got on his pristine white glove---
she did well,
and this is the man she swore to live the rest of her life with.
she is told to make dinner &
the dinner she makes for him & the baby is different than the one
she is told to make for herself---
his, bears flavor & taste,
making nourishment a joy---
hers, is all part of his “strategy”
to make her thinner,
to make her look like she did before the baby,
to make her appealing to him once again &
she follows his “program”
because he hasn’t touched her in a year---
she hopes that if she gets thin enough,
that he will.
she is permitted exactly four hours of sleep a night,
because she has to be up early to take care of the baby,
as well as make his breakfast &
her breakfast---
if she coughs, kicks, or even makes a sound while she is sleeping
in the same bed with her,
he tells her to get out of bed
until she can sleep right,
“like a normal person.”
he came from a strong christian background
which is one of the main reasons she found comfort in his presence
after a ballistic first marriage that
did not produce a child,
and therefore, as far as she is concerned,
did not produce a reason for her to stay---
having given birth to his son,
she knows that there is no way out,
for her own family,
her church & all the community that she
functions in,
would cast her out into “hellfire,”
if she believed any different.
and she remembers the night that he told her
that after his son turned 18
that he didn’t care what she did,
that “she would be free,”
but that he would never give her a divorce---
he would never allow her to escape the feeling of
psychological possession.
all the while,
the watcher learns how to be a man---
at age two and some months now,
the little boy sees how his mother is treated,
he sees how his father treats her &
in these precious, vital
formative years,
the mold has been made---
there will be another.
As little child walked in the field of flowers,
Picking and smelling them as she grows,
The pervading air fragrance of Guava
The majestic mellow Mangoes too in wet season,
The atmosphere of green garden eggs,
Caressing melody of crunchy carrots cracker,
The hidden colours of pineapples,
Bulb of yellow oranges lighted the line green trees,
Would be in season all year, including rags to
riches filling Maize
And pods shelled nourishing beans,
Surging umbrella leaves of papaya,
Shallow rooted coco-yam,the variegated
lettuce that brightens everyday,
With the crowded bananas are growing everyday,
But now,they are in wet tins and dry cartons
For that very busy mankind.
The landscapes within are beautifully measureless,
The Jacaranda and Tamarind trees had cast
Their shadows on the plain, and not forgetting,
The Silk-cottons and the wilderness of palm fruits
That grow tall and sure,
And under them we played cracking out nuts and
eating them,
But now, elevated long balcony, we have
That you stand and weep of the passing phases.
The sepulcher we all grew up in,
Might not be the same dungeon now,
And the cradle you are born in
Could well be the same abode now,
Thatched roof has given birth
To corrugated reflections,
Likewise the fragile asbestos fight for space with concretizing flat,
The mud debris has turned to bricks and plaster erect;
New galaxies of dwelling and scattered
About in a festival of designs;
Some are like an octagonal
A cone, a triangle and spec angular façade yet unseen;
All glasses, cupped and straight down
Like the eccentric mansions in heaven,
The spec tropic clime had turned suddenly,
The wind blows and smell of change,
The sun blaze down on man and space and warned,
Of great consequent yet in the
Outer-atmosphere would burst,
As we are cuddly warm
The poles wildly discharged their zillion captured
Water in a spasm of deluge right upon us…I think,
Like urchins, we fumble forgetting the next hour,
But what would happen is nature’s raison d’etre;
Man and his environ scope both have shibboleth gone pathways
And fast we are turning into artificial humankind.
One country controls an another is colonization, This process of power leads to imperialism, Is it benefitting our mother nation?, Modern thinkers feel it as an act of barbarism.
Indians were nearly 200 years under the crown rule, Was it a period of massive economic stagnation? We can't catch fish in a confused pool, Once, in the world, Colonialism had become a fashion.
It is the cousin of the social evil, slavery, We have to mould our nation's destiny, It is the right time to show our bravery, And we have to follow our ancient ancestry.
Anglo-Indian is reflecting the history of colonization,
Social evils are stopped during British rule, Introduction of English education is its persuasion, Was the concept of coloniality is a rule or mis rule?.
Colonialism had given birth to the middle class obviously, Who became the pioneer of modern industrialization really, Colonial rule is a curse or boon to some countries surely,
It acted transparency like a transparent glass clearly.
Her teeth are no longer white
and bright as in 1960s
when she first fell in love with my grandfather.
I blame that BB, because she always has a headache
when she doesn’t take it.
People from all corners of
Bothaville are afraid of her.
My dear black child has accused her
of being a witch.
Some have labelled her as a healer.
But I label her as my grandma.
She is my strength
and also my weakness,
the love of my life and
the philosopher who inspires everything.
She is the inspiration for all my books,
she is the heart of all my poems.
Without the stories she told me
when I was three years old,
I wouldn’t be the poet that I am today.
Her way of telling the stories
have given birth to my style of writing.
The characters in her stories
made me into the author that I am today.
I had failed to thank my grandfather
before he was wiped off this dry planet,
to either the place of rest
or given powers somehow to protect me
from distractions on this earth.
My grandma held my hand
and dragged me to his grave,
ordered me to place a stone
on top of his grave
and forced me to speak to him.
“Speak to your grandfather, Teboho,
he is listening to you,” she said.
She kneeled before the grave
where the person she’d loved was laid.
The person she knew
and spent her life with
since she was seventeen.
But 2009 was not kind to us
as it wiped his roots out.
Does it make a difference
that I am named after him?
Yes his name will live on,
but his body has decomposed.
My grandma is old,
but thankfully she knows 2021.
I know how her body is tired,
the aches she feels at night,
waking up with a headache
and a heavy load on her body,
As if her ninety-six years
are not both blessing and curse.
I know she can’t live on
but her memory shall.
All my poems and my books
will always reflect her.
I will recite poems about her,
I will paint her as the hero she is.
I will be her philosopher
and tell her story to her grandchildren
whom she kisses every night
before she goes to sleep
Sleep that might turn into a nightmare
for both the Ntaita and Tayita families.
We will weep on
but her love will give us strength again.
Not happy
not unhappy
not satisfied
not unfulfilled
being a cancer makes me susceptible to the energy that surrounds me
it also makes me aware of my downfalls
i am a baptist but hardly pray
i am a Christian but don't remember the last time i sat through a service
I am a mother yet have not given birth
yet i carry too many sins to burden my father with
the sins of my mother have followed me
no she ain't no addict
no she ain't a hoe
she aint nothing but a woman who loves too much
i am of my mothers breast
i am of my mothers worst and her best
i am part my father yet my mother does not care to realize
i am a hustla
not cause i need to be but because i can
i am a bitcc not cause i mean to be
but to be a bitcc is bitter sweet
I am a beautiful woman
yet only skin deep
i have made grown men absolutely weak
i am not a savior
if i was i would have been there when Katrina hit
built a boat bigger than noahs ark and sailed out of that place
but it wouldn't have been free of charge
because to whom much is given
much is required
I would have been there when Sean Taylor got shot
to be blunt i would have let him get hit but not at his life's expense
not at the cost of his daughter living a probable legacy of "absentee daddy"
or growing up only knowing her fathers past as a man who just started turning his life around
not at the sheer belief that anything he did in his past deserved what caused that breath
to be his last
now see i'm no savior
cause i would have had the tongue
to talk those 9 eleven high-jack asses into jumping "in the name of Allah"
these are my thoughts
opinions are like assholes
that brings me to Kanye West
i don't know that brother
And confidence doesn't mean arrogance
but-shouldn't he have regurgitated the lessons of beauty he was taught
back to the person who taught them to him
A beautiful intelligent talented creative human life lost
fame was the cost
some times smart people do dumb things
sometimes i don't recognize my own blessings
sometimes i forget to say thank you to my guardian angel
sometimes i don't listen
I just speak
To you, O women great, in obeisance, I bow,
For your primary forms of mother, sister, mate;
Full of love, patience, kindness and compassion, how,
The almighty has adorned you with goodness great;
As planners and arrangers, today, you excel,
As big bosses chiefs and heads, powers vast you wield;
Teachers, officers, authors - In all you seem good,
Care, caution and concern - with you go very well,
As economists, to homes and globe, wealth you yield;
In your head and heart, virtues reside as they should...!
Incarnation of love! You’re my inspiration!
Visionary you are; your views always outshine;
So beautiful! True jewel of any nation!
In forms of goddess, you dwell-in many a shrine;
Your perfection permeates limits of the sky,
Your determination deepest of depth pierces;
In patience is like the forbearing mother earth!
Your optimism outgrows the very palm tree, high,
Your trustworthiness, every painful hearts, nurses,
Honesty and loyalty, in you, find no dearth...!
In integrity, O women, you're never less,
Sense of wit and humor in life you never lack;
With grace of forgiveness you raze all hatred-mess,
Your nature of nurturing heals each psychic crack;
Your encouragements make the humanity grow;
Your fun and frolics, happiness in hearts, blossom,
In facing hardest of challenges, you've no match!
Thoughts and feelings in you, like the gentlest breeze, blow,
There lies constant comfort in your benign bosom;
Wisdom and wit, with you, merrily, get attach...!
You've been the source of all human origin,
Wombs that have given birth to global history;
In, form of, immaculate virgin with no sin,
You've brought the redeemer, full of mystery;
It's hence; I extol you, dear women, to the heights,
Strength and power of the universe hides in you;
Creating, protecting, destroying each power!
Hills mountains, vales, landscapes and all marvelous sights,
Earth and ether were born by feminine strength too,
My wish is to be your friend each-and-every hour...!
23 March 2022
TRIBUTE TO WOMEN Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Beata Agustin
Born of windy delight and softer than a light breeze
blows your soothing blissful breath amid the swaying trees
So cooly it whispers to my upturned ear
that you have not left me so early this year
you are with me still and the world is ours
we are free again to covet the seas and the stars
The world is not this cold shriveled dead thing
and you are still able to sing in clear joyful ring
I love you with amber and gold from my beating heart
with your softer than cloudy embrace touch i never wish to part
though i know that this be only dream
i linger on in this peaceful stream
wishing you were still here to bathe me in love
trying so hard to still stand to look for you up above
yet the light fades into the dusk
and the living tree is creaking into dried husk
the stars turn cold and the breeze is bitter stone
there is no softer than soft wind when i cringe alone
I sigh and I cry
why wasn't i the one to die
then i crumble into this heap
fallen into nightmarish sleep
the angels have gone from my side
and the love i once had has fled to hide
no more Autumn in this place
when i can no longer kiss your face
so fragile i am now in this decrepit state
my world of love has twisted to the clawings of hate
how could heaven bestow such a gift
and steal it away on death's wings so terrible and swift
I given up all that i had just for you
but i guess much more than that had to be due
i loved you more than those pearly gates
and maybe that is why i angered those vain fates
i love you and have you not
underneath the ground is where you will now rot
it has been more than 15 years
you would think by now that i would have conquered those fears
you didn't really love me in the end
but i was still so glad to be called your friend
the roses blush with my obsession
but it was not one derived of possession
i loved you with a love that was pure
but it was a love life could not endure
for you see there can only be one heaven
and that can not dwell here on earth
the angels turn sour in their blessing
when another heaven is given birth