Aldham man Harry
In poetry tarried, stilting or lilting
Did thrust, and parry, worthy Harry
Western Aus, he claimed was good
Yet sadness tore three years away
Under the fierce sun, a darkness stood
Palling people faces of fear huddle.
And reasoning why how what here?
He'd faced it all, he'd caught some pain.'
Yet he'd get around it and begin again
He's forged some friendships, tightened
Some bonds, shared his thoughts and
Wisdom, as we were going along
Quite a charactér outstanding mate.'
Good memories and laughter he did
Did permeate; display, by God he was
Gifted, yet he was low key..Just Harry's
Way.' Thats how he came across to me..
Categories:
stilting, absence, identity,
Form: Rhyme
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.
Categories:
stilting, america, black african american,
Form: Verse