Long Gwendolyn Poems
Long Gwendolyn Poems. Below are the most popular long Gwendolyn by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gwendolyn poems by poem length and keyword.
You came from Jamaica
a lowly migrant climbing
into my window sending
me threats terrifying
terrorizing my children
shooting in my home
for my American poetry
devastating you held on
to my abusive ex husband
your gunman my hitman
killed at my feet just in
the nick of time I fled for
my very life domestic violence
survivor how dare you arrive
the anniversary of of the
murder of Rasta yago
Andrew seeking my new
poems my new husband
hissing at my window assault
rifle pointed at my window
severe traumatic events
hurricanes I sit still writing I
am Gwendolyn Brooks
I am Maya Angelo I am me
I matter take your knee off
my neck you cannot extort
my American poetry extort
my identity nor extort my life
and inherit my death I thank
God every single day for
Charlie Crist the attorney
general offices for helping
my family relocate after
your violent attempt on my
life your Jamaican gang Henry
I survived your saint James
massacre as I still write
God loves me no matter your
threats bullying home invasions
hacking cyber bullying ransomeware
stop threatening my life stop
bullying you are a my assassin
a twisted terrorist in a skirt
leaving blood everywhere
I Am American
Myself
All that I am
I could dye my hair to please you
Yet I won't
A little mascara might
Make me attractive
Although the value of my gift
Cannot be measured in wrappings
I will not sing For you
But create a harmony and hope for consonance
And I will dance With you
To the melody of our song
Accept
All that I am
I could paint you as my knight in armor
But fantasies vanish with sunrise
We could play together
Yet games must end
And the unity of the game
Will dissolve
Leaving you
And me
All that we are
And acceptance of each
Written by Carolyn Devonshire
Carolyn Devonshire-Who is she?
A great author,a widower who loved her husband so much,and a daughter who loved her father just as much.She is one of my closests friends,can easily be called family...and so lucky I am to have met her.Carolyn was one of the first soupers who always left me a comment of encouragement when i first started writing here.Our friendship grew stronger through time and so our love for poetry.
Why do i love this poem so much?
This poem from Carolyn's first book 'Visions of Devonshire'definitely speaks to my soul.
The value of who we are,isn't about how we appear to be,it isn't about making ourselves perfect,nicer,It isn't about changing our identity..Its about being who we really are.
Carolyn's gift cannot be measured in wrappings'..Its her inner beauty which makes her shine.Her friendship ,love and loyalty to others is what makes her so special.
Its not all about the outer beauty of oneself,but what is on our inside which
really makes us who we are.
The knight in shining armor,the Fantasy,the dream might vanish with sunrise,
the game will end too,leaving all that was in yesterday behind,but finding who we
are once again,and accepting each other for who we were and always will be.
Thankyou Carolyn for this poem,
Your gift lies within you.. It cannot be measured in wrappings..So true!
and the biggest thankyou is sent your way today for just being you..
Dear Gwendolyn..thanks for the brilliant idea.... Big hugs... Charma
She writes like Maya
She sings like Aretha
She dreams like Coretta
She reads like Oprah
She speaks like Barbara
She plays like Serena
She rocks like Tina
She rolls like Donna
She entertains like Diana
She cures like Maria
She paints like Edmonia
She kicks like Mia
She runs like Wilma
She throws like Lisa
She boxes like Laila
She dances like Anna
She skates like Surya
She invents like Patricia
She revolts like Angela
She influences like Condoleezza
She paints like Edmonia
She smiles like Mona Lisa
She loves like a mother
She protects like a tiger
She prays like Mother Theresa
And she cooks like momma.
Dear readers, you can add more
A natural woman is never poor
Please, beloved friends, be kind
To come up with more in your mind
She tumbles like Simone
She philosophizes like Simone
She quilts like Betsy
She laughs like Whoopi
She jokes like Leslie
She sings like Marie
She speed skates like Maame
She flies like Mae
She exercises like Gabby
She educates like Mary
She fights like Dorothy
She explores like Stephanie
She sounds like Winnie
She creates like Margaret
She dares like Harriet
She runs like Marion
She entertains like Josephine
She legislates like Maxine
She sows like Catherine
She teaches like Gwendolyn
She lifts like Ernestine
She acts like Diahann
She reports like Diane
She speaks like Michelle
She is serious like Michelle
She is strong like Althea
She is talented like Augusta
She is defiant like Cicely
She is brave like Shirley
She is normal like Marilyn
She is fearless like Maxine
She is relaxed like Rosa
She is inquisitive like Barbara
She challenges like Phyllis
She swings like Chris
She plays like Alice
She is talented like Venus
She is pretty like a flower
And she is like our mother.
A natural woman is not perfect
She deserves honor and respect
She needs love everyday
From trouble, she never runs away
Please add more to this poem
And do not curse or blaspheme
She writes like Maya
She sings like Aretha
She dreams like Coretta
She reads like Oprah
She speaks like Barbara
She plays like Serena
She prays like Mother Theresa
And she cooks like our mama.
Copyright © August 2018, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Definitely the place to devour corruption corrupt city officials so valid and vile orchestrated by a fatal attraction who slept with my spouse wearing a rubber badge from a strip club in Tampa bay shooting into my home to attack my livelihood to extort my American poetry my blessings are I arrived in spring field Illinois 1969 from Joseph medill elementary school of journalism Chicago Illinois where I sat singing civil rights hymns at Abraham Lincoln home sadly my stalker from Tampa decided to end my life over my identity obsessed with my growing up in Chicago meeting cicely Tyson this imposter tried to murder me she actually stooped to an all time low to take down corrupt city officials with her I feel sad this person that obsessed with my American poetry I’m not a scholar I’m just a write a quote from Gwendolyn Brooks I think it is sad to have stalkers obsessed with your life enough attempt to murder you god bless America god bless American writers and poets stalkers are out there preying on your work I pray I could be a living example of this horrid extortion if not living in death I pray I die for this sheer terror on American soil Ciro Gargano was obsessed with me he hired jay Townsend Johnson Henry to become me after death and cover several arson murders the reason the FBI warned me telling me my life was in danger this resulted in my wearing wires pregnant buying weapons and drugs from Ciro garganos corrupt dealers my life was threatened and this stalker plotted my death I reached out to the federal bureau of investigation Chicago but I believe my being emotionally traumatized left me alone I pray the Supreme Court justice get to the bottom of government scum hiding behind Jamaican isis drug dealers in Tampa bay you’re going to have to kill me dear I am Chicago I am America I'm unafraid of stalkers domestic terrorists comprised dat abuse of power intimidation bullying identity fraud in America God bless America
...after Gwendolyn Brooks & Terrance Hayes
In this dim-lit hall, gathered close, we
Chalk our cues, faces worn but real.
Eight-ball in the corner, staying cool,
Brothers in the game, that's who we
Are. Schoolyard dreams we long since left,
Traded books for pool cues after school.
In this smoky haven loitering, here we
Find our place, amongst shadows we lurk
Quiet-like. Clock ticking, hour grows late,
But time don't matter much when we
Line up shots, aiming for that strike,
Playing it cool, playing it straight.
'Round the table, huddled close, we
Share our stories, raspy voices sing
Of life's hard knocks, fleeting joy, hidden sin.
In felt-green world, for now we're free, we
Hold on tight, though hope grows thin.
Raise our glasses, cheap whiskey, no gin,
To friendship lasting. Together, we
Make our music, spinning pool hall jazz.
Summer's ending, farewell to June,
We play on still, knowing in short time, we
Might not be here, where dreams can die,
Our final game coming too soon.
approximating 7.5 x 1018, or seven quintillion,
five hundred quadrillion grains. This estimation
courtesy of Gwendolyn Powell, High School
from Presentation of Mary Academy (2018
graduating class) responding to an inquiry posted
on website https://www.quora.com/How-many-
grains-of-sand-are-there-on-Earth-and-how-many-
stars-are-there-in-the-universe Answered
April 15, 2018.
Such minutiae less significant within the realm
of present day *****sapiens, whose lives less
linkedin with phenomena affecting life on this
oblate spheroid, (which could come to a crashing
halt predicated on burgeoning human population
jeopardizing sustainable planet presuming
industrial paradigm prevails, thence man/
woman kind will unwittingly trumpet, and
or sound claxon (ex post facto), while
warming temperatures melt glaciers,
asper huge popsicles drowning
multitudinous habitats courtesy of
violent meteorologic cataclysms, where
Noah ark will be big enough to save majority
of creatures, and (wherein no art of the deal)
savvy enough to wall off sky high tidal
Katrina and the waves, then nature will (make
a killing) relishing tidying Atlas sized tureen
if necessary applying pledged finishing touches
repurposing third rock for another species slated
to inherit pseudo tabula rasa after Campbells,
and broth hers detox polluted primordial soup
i.e. once cleansed of poisons, thus...I condense
my Green New Deal spiel!
Capturing my illuminating glow the essence of my infamous smile wild wonder of my laughter gathers a gentle breeze tangible meaningful gestures opens the balance of selfless energy as I move to the beat of a kindred drum highlighting mystical memorable moments gliding and warm oils over my Cocoa brown skin I'm awakened by the sunlight beaming in a distant chatter glorifying my untimely hue I'm needed to create a daily psalm in the wandering minds of the free spirits the free thinkers gather tasting my nubian elegant lyrical self crafting beauty through prose enhancing vintage thoughts boldly holding on to hidden treasure that captivated Virginia Woolf my wondrous gift continue opening hearts everywhere I chant be moved adoring my being with ease watching Maya Angelo grin with awesomeness wondering did I go to school reading the fine arts of Gwendolyn Brooks when my heart and mind invite my soul over for tea an elegant dance to simply bestow magnificent things began to happen trees sway kneel clapping their hands before me the sky opens night blends with dawn a mauve moon rising while the tides quiet down as I find myself feeling high on the people feeling high on myself filled with excitement whilst resting peacefully reading hymns thinking I just adore the wonder of me the wonder of self love a beautiful gift to behold indeed
It's a Langston Hughes kind of day
filled with dutiful hints of Robert frost
within the sudden humor and vague
eccentricity of Ernest hemmingway
the quiet freedom of Nikki Giovanni
with a cunning soul shaking enlightment
of Maya Angelo tinged with the noble
excitement of John keats as the clouds
move into this rapture an intriguing sheer
fondness of William butler Yeats while
the soft dem lights over the lake hits
my minds eye just so as I'm quite
taken by the sinking thoughts of
Virginia woolf beckoning my innermost
calm peeking through wooden slats
exposing the granduer of Gwendolyn Brooks
smile mastering greatness beneath broken
planks on the sunscreen porches even so
i dare change a thing about this glorious
day this Langston Hughes kind of day
For Gwendolyn Rix's Contest "Mom, I'm Pregnant".....
(There is a great chance a teen mother will end up on welfare)
___________________________________________________________________
In the summertime of days
When all she had was being young
The price she paid for one mistake
Would be the greatest one
In the summertime of days
In arms that held her warm
His smile as tender as the breeze
Came long before the storm
In the summertime of days
She asked for nothing more
Than to turn back clocks to yesterday
Just as it was before
But summer ended much too soon
And stormy clouds began
Decisions drifted in the wind
The sky was falling in
When tears began to fall
A ray of hope appeared
With guiding stars, to light the way
And parent's love to steer...
The sun will shine again
She has walked a million miles
With help to lead her along the way
In the summertime of days
SOUP SAFARI
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here I am in NYC...packing after a safari –theme night party
with Soup members two nights ago, filled with awed revelry.
shrieks whistling on linked arms during a photo shoot,
as live cheers of Constance and Andrea went “ whoot!”
while Debbie and Michael hosted “Tag, you’re ‘It’ “games
bringing Nikko and Sara to compete in spelling members’ names…
I still remember Robert H. reciting his comic spiels, what a blast!
our jaws locked from clapping at Dr. Ram’s impromptu dance act,
till Kashinath segued into a sitar rap in his flashy jungle attire
prompting Linda to donate PM prizes, much to our hearts’ desire.
on our table, an exciting blend of brew amped repartee’s pitches
amused by Brian fleshing parts of short forms without glitches,
enter wacky Sydney applying geographic values to long verse usage
with footnotes on how worlds expand over time from poetic vantage,
oh, how Gwen sparkled with pleasantries as cups of jokes poured
most memorable of all, the warm personal shares of soupers' world
that drew us closer as real people with scraps here and there
recalling red-cherry days and funny bloopers’ wear and tear…
and as I leave from 8th street hailing a taxi to catch a plane,
notes and album tugged this heart, anticipating next gang’s chain.
copyright
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DEDICATED TO P.D: get well soon and take your daily dose your soup!
*notes: with admiration for soup members included herein... all in the
name of pure fun!
* Gwendolyn Rix, Brian Strand, Sydney Peck, Myself
* For Michael Falotico’s Table for Four/ P.D Soup Contest
* by nette onclaud