My song goes like this
time after time I read bedtime stories
back then there were no worries
simple kids go to the store
big momma did her floors
pops cut all the boys hair
at the barbershop
snowballs in the summer time
wind mills in the wind
Italian ices on 18th street
Chicago style hotdogs
jew town polishes
Greek town old town
new town uptown
oh Lincoln park zoo
dreams of being the first black
Supreme Court Justice
I sing my song only after
the blues stopped playing
on Maxwell street
Written by Yolanda Joy Nicholsen
May 14th 2004 right before my
sons graduation Fort Myers Florida
My Sons Graduation Day
FOND MEMORIES GROWING UP
HEARING THE BLUES
ON MAXWELL STREET
CHICAGO
Windows reflects the world outside
Inside, the soul remains concealed.
A ticking clock, a relentless reminder
Of moments passing, unreclaimed.
A diner, a stage for silent dramas
Obsoletion fades stains of trauma.
Each matron, an enigma, unnamed
In the quiet corner, an empty stool...
A cook, a keep, a bartender secretly weeps
polishes glasses, pushing the dregs away.
Waiting for a story untold but not forgotten.
aromatic beauty creates
dancing ethereal flowers
glowing high into jovial
kites lacquering moon
nature oasis polishes
quasars royal stars
tracing universal vortexes
xenoliths yearn zeal
February 1st 2010
In silence,
The soul cries,
In the tranquil of the night the soul searches,
It is saddled with a plethora of questions,
It desires to see through the veil.
What am I made for?
The soul asks,
What is this that walks with me?
The soul desires to know,
Who is this that shares my abode with me?
The soul inquires.
The soul fights its monsters,
It resists the creeping darkness,
It goes through the floodwaters,
It journeys through the shrivelled meadow,
It tunnels through the gloom,
The soul walks through the valley of shadows.
In the tempest,
The soul finds a resting place,
In every rub,
The soul polishes its mirror,
In the avalanche of thoughts,
The soul steers a middle course,
In the mysteries,
The soul sees its wonder.
Glorious are the blue-tipped ridges of snow drifts,
a see-though sun is a crystal teardrop in my eye.
Sunlight sparkles through a clear mirror sky,
glorious is the bright and luminous snow.
A mouse has scurried over a surface ridge,
its paws impressing tick mark tracks,
that glint and check a fleeting length of time.
Mind mesmerizes itself. A diamond
polishes a skin-deep prism.
The glory rises, my heart pounds out,
long hallelujah moments.
At the foot of an icicle-tressed oak
a Black-Capped Chickadee
chirps-out loud its song of life.
Glory sings along and hits its high notes,
again, and again.
we see it now
that no node within
will remain a bystander
energy transfer enlivening
organic forms magically
polishes the mirror
Well, something that inspires me,
To write this little poetry,
Someone who encourages me,
Listens to every word I speak,
Corrects my flaws and polishes my grooves,
Makes me of better use.
Through thin and thick and thick and thin,
Who would be so consistent?
She's my life,
My beat,
My strive,
My love and my light!
Even if the world breaks apart, She'd be the only one to keep my parts.
She hurts,
She struggles,
But never does she:
Show her pains on her lit glee,
Indeed, a hero, a beauty you are...
My one and only mom you are.
With trepidation the dentist I called
Gripped by agony a terrible ache
He took one look absolutely appalled
I was in blue funk and started to shake.
Blue latex gloves he snapped on with relish
My thoughts at that moment “I cannot win”
Fearful and ridged felt sure I would perish
Many decayed teeth, clearly 'tis a sin!
Big Lecture on benefits of flossing
While he polishes a bright smile for me
Toothpaste now swirling my mouth is frothing
He's pleased with results I don't disagree.
Perfect fillings and extraction later
I survived, thanks to defibrillator.
Happy Africa day ,
You are always welcome to Africa
Africa of millions of happiest people
Who understand better their lives conditions
And stop buy things
In credits.
Happy Africa day ,
Comparison is not reason
It is always good share with brothers and
Sisters of the World.
Allow me to tell you about Africa again
And again.
When some people
Sing daily ," Africa is Poor "
Investigating their lives,
You find out that they live with credits
Of so many things.
Imagine getting credit of
A car,
A house,
Some food parcels,
Eyelashes,
Shoes
Cloths
Shoes polishes ,
Even Underwears
And so on
But they still calling,
"Africa poor "
If it happens to lose jobs,
And finding themselves on the roads
Due to more loans.
Do they have a good lesson
To teach majority Africans?
Happy Africa day,
In many African countries majority people
Buy things in cash :
- Luxury cars
- Houses,
- Farms,
- Aeroplanes,
- Ships,
- Boats
- Cloths
- Foods
- So on
When they losing their jobs
They will still remain
In good comfort places.
May 26/2023
Spring slips in on a tepid breeze
that gently sways the naked trees.
And smelling so sugary sweet;
Her scent makes my heart skip a beat.
Dressed in varying shades of green;
Spring brings color to ink the scene.
And melting the snow with Her breath;
She renews life by thwarting death.
Running Her fingers through my hair;
I feel Her presence everywhere.
And as Her touch tickles my skin,
that feeling morphs into a grin.
She polishes the sun's faint rays;
as songbirds flock to sing Her praise.
And Daffodils and Tulips sprout;
as Winter's frozen ground thaws out.
Transforming snowflakes into rain,
Spring quenches life's thirst yet again.
And April responds to Her call;
commencing with Her first rainfall.
Once laziness occupies one's mind
Definitely, only defeats, one will find
Lethargic attitude causes failure only
That is the reason for losses mainly
Always be on the look out for achieving
A wise plan, let your mind be weaving
Then only life will have a deep thrill
As you must utilize your great skill
Due to constant usage of your talent
Something fine, you can usefully invent
This may give you name and fame
As you play skillfully this life-game
By not being brisk and actively agile
You travel on the wrong road and fail
Only an honest attempt brings glory
And as a result, you create a history
Practice polishes your ability greatly
And so you execute your act neatly
So better to employ your acumen
To become the best man or woman
In the presence of precious optimism
And due to deploying of fine dynamism
We benefit the World and come up
We make all others excellently develop.
Minnie mouse is so famous
Wearing bow as pink as rose
She also wears dress
So clean and no mess
And polishes her black nose
Mickey mouse likes her so much
They’re best friends, a perfect match
Both wear nice sports shoe
With colorful hue
So, they’re designs of wrist watch
Mickey and Minnie are smart
So talented since the start
They hold hands to dance
In a lovely prance
But Mickey gives a loud fart
Dec. 2, 2022 12.09pm
howmanysyllables.com
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93 syllables
403 characters
Tucked away in dad’s back closet,
Stocked with polishes and such;
Dad would let us boys come work,
And learn to earn a buck.
He taught us work had dividends,
If we would put the effort in.
Come days, or nights or weekends
We’d shine them up for him.
He didn’t pay us what we’re worth,
Or offer “bonus” pay;
But there we learned initiative,
That drives our lives today.
I remember when he taught me,
About colors, soles and buffing.
Then He’d spit into the tins
I’d scoff and thought: “He’s bluffing!”
In reflecting dad, I’m thankful…
For little jobs like shoe shines.
You gave our lives a “polish”
Beyond your quarters and your dimes.
If I could, I’d take your shoes right now
And polish every one.
To let you know my love and thanks
For ways you raised good sons.
By Shoe Shine Son #3
She died on a three-legged stool
in her kitchen,
her heart burst, and out flew
all the skills of her nimble hands.
Now she cooks the twilight
mixing the dried fruits of yester-years.
I feel her thoughts taking shape,
see her sway to the music of Glen Miller,
another memory she gave this space to.
These words are partly hers,
the flavors are mixed, the twilight
shapes her tireless hands.
I pay her rent as her interlocutor.
I water the old ferns as if I were
the curator of her life.
We never did meet, but at night
before I fall asleep
she spits on a yellow duster and gently
polishes my drowsy eyes
until something shines in me, and I know her
and she knows me.
She.
Serenity’s relief adheres to alabaster sleep from the rivers own pale fruit.
There is majesty in the tides annihilation that polishes cheek and lip.
A smile as slight as sanctity anoints reflections saturated, ineffable.
Not even her amused sediment mask could locate her distant shore.
She.
A blink gives birth to locked gaze that gorges itself upon the unblemished.
Possession thickens the surging blood that flows only for the unknowable.
He cannot resuscitate, cannot embrace what has drowned, drifted.
So, she holds him while he presses plaster to eye, mouth, and nose.
She.
Preserving fleeting pores that gape beneath the thunder of the adoring gaze.
Seraphic visage is captured and crafted with his heartbroken perpetuity.
Confessions of devotion wash up on empty banks and sink into blackened silt.
Lonely as a legend she leaves him and walks silently into deaths duplication.
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