a minute poem
My sweetheart had it in his head
when first we wed,
from loving groom
my nom de plume.
The name he calls me, Reason A.,
like cabernet
rolls off the tongue
like music sung.
No rhyme or reason could I find
to reassign
his nickname sworn -
my pen name born.
November 26, 2021
explanation:
Reason A. Goodwin, an editor of World Book Encyclopedia Dictionary, was a word judge on the original Password Game Show. The producers got upset with him the first time he was called upon to challenge a word, he looked it up in his dictionary. They said, "We could have hired any girl to look up a word."
My husband loved the show and started calling me "Dr. Reason A. Poteet" anytime we argued about things. His favorite expression has always been, "You just never know." to which I always reply, "But you can find out."
White Discussion
Man down they said
but it's ok we don't know the whole story,
let's check out his previous history,
I say you can't justify another casualty.
Man down they said
but it's ok his previous convictions
mean he didn't have a say.
I say criminality don't lessen your humanity.
Man down they said
but it's ok 'cos he had a bad cheque
the whole world watched screaming
get off his spine,
get off his neck.
Can you tone down your voice,
can you quieten your pain
we don't want it spilling,
out of your neighbourhood again
can you please not mention like white fragility,
'cos you know we don't see colour and we're all about equality.
If you keep inside your homes
we'll have some more discussions,
where we'll look into the matter,
before we white wash the blood splatter,
we promise they'll be change
but first let's reassign the blame.
Prayers dedicated to shadowy redemption
Would you be a pure innocent whiteness?
On the brink of a severe storm;
Would you be a calm, friendly conversation?
If I am but a hesitant , immeasurably responsible soul;
Would you relieve that responsibility?
If I am a question mark in the writing of us
Would you be the explanatory foot-note?
Me, you or we
Split or scattered like isolated islands;
If gusty wind threatens to blow away forever
Would you be the power to reassign it?
You and I are but a prefix of a conversation
Would you be the enlighten effort to focus it to primetime?
Dogs and human , fight in my haunted dreams
I see vultures, waiting for the inevitable end of silence
Yet, I see a one-sided feelings, smiling
Standing on the pulpit of the innermost soul
Holding a pen and white paper;
Risking to the utmost degree of life.
Books – a medicine saturnine.
Those who have books shine
With lively bright colour twine.
Books – a Daniel – be in shrine
To take us all up with whine.
Saraswati, indeed, did opine
My talents with saccharine
And help me for Her to reassign
Her position in the world malign.
With her help I Monorhyme define
And made many people it dine
With garlic or ginger or brine.
Oh! Goddess! Help me refine
The world with your dyne –
Books – a medicine saturnine.
If you were reserved, like a chair
And only The King could sit there
Marked off, strictly just for his use
Would you reassign yourself for abuse?
The truth is that you are sanctified
Set apart just for Him like the tithe
Though the tenth is His own, every dime
Can be misused, misspent, or denied
You are holy by the blood of The King
Not, because, if, or when, anything!
But to be holy you must take it by force
And see reserved for The King enforced
So see yourself pure, don’t be sinning
Don’t give up the fight and the winning
For His purpose your vessel was chosen
What He owns is not tarnished but golden
You are sanctified, His earthen vessel
But to be sanctified you must wrestle
When you see what’s been done by the blood
What you are, you will be, you’ll have won