As we lay prostrate
Tabula rasa-blank page
Word play we engage
Sleight of hand we write
Together with tongue magic
Comic and tragic
Poetic dual
Like the bards of Vienna
We've burnt sienna
We foster and play
With our words and our phrasing
Not mean, not praising
We engage with rhyme
Each other's druthers, "Respect!"
To urge, not neglect
Sometimes we flirt and
Sometimes we fling dirt, but me
Cajolery, you
Sully the bully
Flatter, not as indicters
We are cowriters
So in this haiku
I don't offer you some prose
But hand you a rose
You stay away
You set the date
To Saturday
To separate
Your sedative
That stains away
The suns you save
For rainy days - but hold up, wait
The sun keeps coming back
So easy we think we tame
Any meaning to be for us, where’s the shame?
Tell the truth.
You know we’re last
In the thoughts of grace
And if the past is coming soon,
How much did we choose to waste?
We know we’re not here to last
And we hope for someone to be.
Goodbye ideation, hello future.
Welcome to a world I once dreamt for there to be
If you ever have a chance to visit,
You’ll know you’ve made it
When memory can’t afford to remember your dreams.
It’s closer than you can believe.
Tell the truth
A life of rhythm makes a song
a signature of time, that's strong,
will make us brightly sing along -
the sentimental reason -
a quarter note, each season.
A year goes by, we count a beat.
For youth it is a special treat,
but years and breath's supply, deplete -
our sweet, melodic treasure -
four beats per single measure.
A promise, kisses and bouquets
as lovers ever fate obeys
and measures make a music phrase.
Now dig that syncopation -
a whole new generation.
The first verse, we are just a child.
Our crazy, funky beat goes wild.
We looked like Grandma when we smiled,
and though I may be dissing,
like Gramps, whose beat was missing.
But, soon, we're old women and men
and fondly we remember when,
and wish to do it all again.
Though we've been through the ringer,
we praise the song and singer.
And now that it's almost complete.
I still want to tap my feet.
Shout and Holla
Holla At-cha Version
That certain swagg
that charming smile
that cool way of doing
that certain style
I got that rizz
that certain charm
the rizz
the rizz
a star is born
it is my smile
that handsome grin
model style
when I grab my chin
My music please
that's the groove
watch me do
mu thing
move for move
I got that style
that certain thang
I got the rizz
I got the rizz
the rizz is my thang
If wisdom was a picture, how beautiful she’d be.
Words melting into hues, in perfect harmony.
Truth revealed for all to see in reflective symmetry.
Like rhythmic waves flowing in an open sea.
Wear something nice
Not to fancy
Check the heels
On those shoes
Tonight I feel like
dancing
This is a lovers
Interlude
Iwe feel in love in
Ole Dell Rio
Under a Strawberry
Moon
It ain't that complicated
It's our destiny
I assume
She's such a sophisticated
Lady
Darling can I hold your
Hand
It's a privilege to say
Your my lady
I'm so proud to
be your man
Now and then I would
Answer
If only you would ask
I'd kiss you now
It neither chore or task
We feel in love
In Ole Dell Rio
Put a flower in
Her hair
She is such a sexy woman
I could watch and stare
Melodic music
depths me
in deep thought…
and as it is
with such thoughts
about our creator
what we think
and hope for
can’t be divorced
from place and time
in history
culture and ourstory…
Our reality here
is not of heaven
but of this
bi-polar earth
and our freedom
and liberation
must be sought
in this reality…
Check it out…
heaven is beyond time
and earth-bound stories
but as earthly beings
we are fixed here
in definite time
stories and culture
and we can not divorce
ourselves from such realities…
Just think about it…
our liberation has never
been nor should ever
be a mere fusing
of concepts
rather our liberation is
and has always been
a strategized perceived
process…
So just go and sit down
on the dock of time
and don’t worry
about a thing
for everything
is going to be
alright
for we are recipients
of an almighty healing
amazing grace
and it has our backs
in life’s “Trane-like” race…
Beneath the ancient boughs
Stories of ages pass
The copse of cedars stand silent
As the wind sighs, whispers hidden secrets of time
Their shadows waltz in the sun
A play of light and dark
The truths they veil in their green leaves
Of memories, lost and found
A rhythmic hymn of earth and sky.
Love between the two of us is a rhythmic dance, a romance
in the most sensual and subtle prelude we are wooed.
We share amorous flirting without need for words asserting
our intentions but sparked by an ember as we remember
our yearning and burning flames of fire, the wanton desire.
The nights spent together in love's passion, and the fashion
of your whispers on my nape, calling my name as you claim
me as your own. Our hearts beating in sync as one, and none
I've ever known made me feel completely sated. We're fated
to be together without a reason to sever our love. Forever
will we share the last dance, the last kiss, making love like this.
Musical notes in sweet refrain
Sentimental rhythms soothe the soul
Nostalgic song in hearts remain
Musical notes in sweet refrain
Rhapsody of joy to attain
Sing along as the lyrics roll
Musical notes in sweet refrain
Sentimental rhythms soothe the soul
11-4-2024
I entered the world of sleep,
Where creations danced on waves.
Cliffs loomed vast and deep,
Their mystery stirred the brave.
The rhythmic ocean’s motion,
And the world’s life-laden view,
Revealed secrets of the ocean,
Surprisingly witnessed by few.
I watched a sailor take his ride,
Steering the boat with flair—then he fell.
Though currents surged with the spring tide,
I held tight to my precious shell.
Then crackling sounds broke the dream,
Nature’s embrace slipped away, so nice.
For a moment, bound by a wild, green theme,
Till reality struck—my bowl of rice.
Dance to the
sound of
waves
The cymbals create,
A mesmerizing sound
Reaching their brass highs
I sit listening to the blues come alive.
The music is guiding me,
Reminding me of sounds and sights
We've infused our vibes, our lives
In our tune's beat, making it sound all right!
I stroll down the streets,
I can hear the Musicians Nine
They're blowing into their tin horns
Enticing everyone around them to listen.
Tiny Foster is there:
Effortlessly strumming on his cords
Making enchanting melodies on his
Beat-nick guitar; he records.
People are passionately sitting,
They started reciting in their poetries
Speaking their lines in rhythmic rhymes
Talking in verse, laying out some lines.
Representing themselves profoundly with articulations,
In the beauty of prose, it was best that I mention
An atmosphere that leads on for hours, contemplations
You can get lost in it if you give in to an elongation.
In the dim-lit alley of the soul's bazaar,
Were jazz and jive spill from ajar,
We tap our feet, snap fingers, under stars,
And speak in verses, raw and without pause.
The city breathes, a living, pulsing beat,
Its heart a drum, its voice a saxophone,
We weave through streets, our words a rhythmic feat,
In its sync with life yet distinctly our own.
We are scribes of midnight's whispered tales,
Our ink, the dreams that dance in smokey air,
Each line is a track on which our spirit sails,
A journey deep, beyond the skin, we dare.
So let us write, with passion as our guide,
Some beat poems, where truths cannot slide.
Then we'll take a carpet ride,
Sail across space standing side by side.
rhythm is lovely
music is essential
you are beautiful
i am complete
beats are infectious
the day is pure perfect
your smile is the perfect vacation from time
i am enamored
jazz is the precise selection
the skies are as blue as your natural beauty
i smile at the gentle sway of your walk towards me
i am truly blessed that you chose me
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