In Kyoto's gardens, cherry blossoms fall ??
Like delicate snowflakes, ethereal, beyond all
Sakura's pink, a fleeting sigh, pure delight ??
Beauty born, lost in morning's golden, radiant light
From Tuscany's hills, cypress trees ascend ??
To Santorini's sea, waves whisper, secrets send
Golden light, a moment's ecstasy, heart's refrain ??
Wind whispers truths, echoes of timeless, sweet strain
In Marrakez's medina, gold threads weave fine ??
Weaving stories, whispers, mystic, scented vine
Muezzin's call slows heartbeats, soul's true, inner pace ???
Impermanence reveals life's hidden, precious space
In Rio's samba, hearts beat fast, joyful fire ??
Carnival's moment, fleeting, pure desire
Fleur de rêve blooms, fades, yet leaves a trace ??
In goodbye, new dawn gleams, with promise, love's warm, gentle face
Moments linger, like autumn's last, golden kiss ??
Echoes of what was, whispers of what is
In impermanence, beauty's subtle, secret might ??
A fleeting dream, a memory, a whispered, heartfelt night.
Two of us on a sixties hippie trip
to see if our gears would slip or mesh
innocent but wary yet wide-eyed
to the Imperial city of Marrakech
she perfumed with patchouli
me I traveled totally tie-dyed
all around was peace and love
we teamed to a tee and seemed
a fit the perfect hand in glove
but not long later it was deemed
as it was commonplace to see
in the medina not strapped for cash
kif from the Rif sellers
in the souk smoking hash
the country lacked law and order
no sooner said than escorted
back to Ceuta across the border
funny now in retrospect but not then
how when we blew out on the Sirocco
tho' we hadn't gone so far as the kasbah or bazaar
were deported without ceremony from Morocco
Where is this? Are we on Mars?
America – just count the stores,
capitalist carnivores.
That so-familiar movie score,
the swish of passing cars.
The city built on Brotherly Love
(Wells Fargo, Fitch and Abercrombie)
at the mercy of Pam Bondi
- was that a person, or a zombie? –
What was Madison thinking of?
Car’s no use: no place to park it.
Arrested at a funeral home.
No gravel pits, no air, no loam
- eat your heart out, Kristi Noem
(Checks Cashed Here, Medina Market)
Can this be noon? It feels like night.
What are these groupings? Hangouts? Dives?
They’re ganglions? They’re human hives?
Squandered talent, wasted lives.
Subway line blocks out the light.
Sidewalk garbage. Mostly men.
That hokey old verbal agility,
“insure domestic tranquillity”
correctional facility
for the heirs of William Penn.
Human beings are detritus
(Lifetime Nails, Olympic Sports):
To clean it up, we use the courts
Perhaps we ought to build more forts
- and thus our id comes back to bite us.
In dreams
i am always lurched by soothing zephyrs
across the lovely streets of Medina
Searching thy footprints
in the pious dust
ya Rasool Allah(s.a.w).
Every night i sleep with a hope in heart
to meet you
and in the morining i wake up broken and fragile
Ya Rasool Allah(s.a.w)
In the chills of night
I search thy reflection of beauteous face
in the moon
During day i kept on staring the sun
Ya rasool Allah(s.a.w)
As i write thy exalted name
with all emotions
My whole being dissolves in fragrance
Ya rasool Allah(s.a.w)
My heart melts with thy remmembrance
and my soul feels heavy on your seperation
Searching thy light in the chambers of heart
Ya rasool Allah(s.a.w)
You are the light of my eyes
and joy of my heart
and i always hear your blessed name
in my chest
Ya rasool Allah(s.a.w)
In the semi-arid suburb, Medina,
A high pitch of sound echoed.
It dopplered through misty shrubs.
A helical dawn goes tidally.
The Pathfinder: stepped,
deep nodded, starry-eyed,
Scarfed fragrant keffiyeh.
Reeled a full throttle of forgiven,
Headed to his students.
The teaching of liberty,
Primed course of life.
Manifest Destiny
by Michael R. Burch
When you were in my house
you were not free—
in chains bound.
Manifest Destiny?
I was wrong;
my plantation burned to the ground.
I was wrong.
This is my song,
this is my plea:
I was wrong.
When you are in my house,
now, I am not free.
I feel the song
hurling itself back at me.
We were wrong.
This is my history.
I feel my tongue
stilting accordingly.
We were wrong;
brother, forgive me.
Originally published by Black Medina
NOTE: I wrote this poem when I had a home-based software business and had hired two fine young black men as programmers. They both had keys to my house and I was a minority in my own company. That seems like progress but still doesn't begin to atone for the horrors of slavery.
M-use
A-bout
Y-our
C-lever
E-xpression
E-mploys
M-arvelous
E-xcellent
D-enotation
I-n
N-otable
A-crostic
Topic: Birthday of Maycee S. Medina (May 27)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Love is Fickle
There was a young man from Medina
Who had a young wife named Regina
She fell for the waiter
And they left for Decatur
now Regina is nowhere to be seena!
Wednesday, July 31, 2019
I Came To the Medina
Looking for my Palestina
Baby my Baby
Where are you?
Still under the rubbles?
Still alive my Diva
Oh my Devina!
The Highways robbers,
The snitch, the pimps of the Dollar,
And of the Shekel,
Still abusing the little
Ballerina,
But she defied them all,
And she is still standing on one little toe,
With no support,
Since she became,
Now lonely in an orphelinat
My beloved, my adorable
Palestina!
Live, and live and live now,
And in the future,
Despite the A...Rabs
And the Gulf lackeys
And Al Alkami of the Palace,
Still serving his bosses,
In the Medina,
Snitching, selling his own meat,
His own flesh and honour to the Zombies,
Who used Red Indians,
Puerto Ricans,
And poor destitute,
Oppressed Latina
But remember my hero,
Who reduced those to zero,
That was once, in the famous,
Battle of all battles,
Of Hattina!
Saladin here he lives today,
And tomorrow,
With a million and a billion,
Enforced by men of deed,
Not of a creed,
And true soldiers,
Martyrs, Mudjahideena!
F-ine
L-ight
O-bliterates
R-ainy
E-vening
J-ust
E-rasing
A-nother
N-ight
M-ist
E-ven
D-ark
I-s
N-egated
A-new
Topic: Birthday of Flore Jean D. Medina (October 01)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
At last I found the thyme
To do the names that rhyme
I am going to rhyme names
That will rhyme the same
Anna, Hannah,Pollyanna,
Rosanna,Joanna,Edwardian,
Victoriana, Gloriana,Georgianna
Christianna,Gina, Ena,Magdalene
Messina,Rowena, Selina,Lenna.
Angelina,Medina,menalina, Wilhelmina,
Zena
M-aker
A-bates
Y-our
C-ares
E-agerly
E-rasing
M-ind's
E-very
D-oubt
I-n
N-ice
A-tmosphere
Topic: Birthday of Maycee S. Medina (May 27)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Happy Happy Birthday Medina (duo)
To the SWEDISH HIP HOP AND RAP DUO
with the most
INFLUENTIAL HOT-BOY RAPS
let me say
Happy Happy Birthday to you
i lift up my glass with a
LYRICVIXEN Lyrical Toast
just as BLOCKBUSTER STRONG
and VIP "Haffla music" HOT
as to say to you
i hope you have a
Happy Happy Birthday
that only a
RAP-STAR, HOP-HIP SENSATION
like you can do
Happy Happy Birthday
to a THE MOST INFLUENTIAL FLY RAPPERS
IN THE RAP GAME
THE Medina (duo)
HOT-BOY fabulous YOU
By: verlecia fields
aka: lyricvixen
It is Okay to Cry
By Dr. Tina Medina
It is okay to cry
It is okay to cry and open up your heart
You simply need to trust now that you and God will never part
It is okay to cry and tell God your pain
By letting truly go, you have everything to gain
It is okay to cry and not worry about what people will say
This is about your inner healing and there will be no more delay
It is okay to cry and let your feelings show
You have everything to gain with the Holy Spirit’s glow
It is okay to cry and release your pain and shame
I promise I will never call you any names
It is okay to cry and reach out in need
Jesus will never leave you and He will always take the lead
It is okay to cry it makes your spirit clean
It washes away any hurt and takes away the ugly scene
It is okay to cry and leave your pain in the past
God has you now in the palm of His hand and His love will always last
It is okay to cry and tell me your story
The Trinity Team promises to restore you with all their power and glory
It is okay to cry
Come with me to Fontanella
where the bastions rise up high.
There the view is overwhelming;
nature’s beauty meets the eye.
Come with me to Fontanella,
the tea garden that’s unique
in the city of Medina.
Taste bud pleasure we will seek.
Come with me to Fontanella
when you’re dying for a cake.
You’ll be spoilt by the selection
of the goodies that they bake.
Come with me to Fontanella,
I go mad on nuts and dates.
You would drool for cassatella.
All we’ll leave is empty plates!
Come with me to Fontanella
Be it sun or be it rain.
An experience to remember;
you’ll return time and again!
------------------------------------
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