A memorial poetry today February 6th, 2018 to remember our loved one - late Andrew Chavez.
POURING INK FOR ANDREW ©
Imagine if we're given one moment
Just a single slice of the past
We'd hold it down amid the tornadoes & hurricanes
And the moment would always last,
The moment Laura bore thee,
The moment she cried for thee,
Forced out of the cookie, ready,
Ready for the world, letting out thy first cry,
The doctors smiled, Laura smiled,
We, the world, smiled,
Growing up, you smiled
And then life goes on
But life couldn't contain thee anymore
So you creep away from us till this day
Quietly lying in rows beneath earth's sky
In a peaceful place of many deep memoirs
Where the living dead walk in solemn rows
Momma grope to see you one day, who knows
Now look at thy face frozen in blissful external sleep
Laura still loves you straight from the deep
With a tearful glance as you're taken away as sheep
Today we reminisce...pouring ink in remembrance of you
And rain upon your grave tears, smiles & memoirs
Hope to meet you one day at The Golden Gate.
Sleep on, Andrew.
VickWizzy
Written by: Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © February 6th, Tues. 2018.
Moving back home
To the place where I belong
I had a dream last night
I dreamt I hugged an angel
It felt so real to me
It felt like home
Tues. 11/28/2017 Yes, I did have a dream I hugged an angel which felt like I was hugging my mom. And to me, my mom feels like home.
Beneath the pearl moon
lies the valley of shadows
I'd seen her pass thru once
But she was just a wish
Nothing ever seemed real there
And that's why I knew she was only a thought
On the walks, I took in my dream state
But that was the only way I knew I could survive
From the things that went on in another life
The landscape and the air were different there
From the ruins of the mind, I passed every day
But still, if I looked that way it was tattered
And I could never wash that feeling off
No matter how long I tried
Tues. 12:30 midnight 7/4/2017
~Thus Tues Of Thought's~
Thee ist'isn't what I Thought
It would Be, But it is, &
it isn't, . . . just Like
It aught to be . . . .
Poetry is like a river
Always changing currents
Soft, wild, always demanding attention.
October sun fading
Blowing thru golden hair
Windswept streaks on a face.
Never a green leaf whispers
As the sweet smelling flowers drift
Deep into the heart of summer.
I saw spring today
Was an awesome sight
Heaven was open to me.
3/ 5/ 2013 Tues
Lost and alone.
In the land of shadows.
Blue skies coming thru.
I hint about it at times.
Though never really say it.
I wonder, do they know?
Can they tell by my words?
Or by my silence in place.
I've turned my other cheek.
As I pretend it never happened.
All those barbecues in days past.
I wonder if anyone really knew?
Jan, 15th 2013 Tues
Countless in our days
Of lives seize with easy.
Alas! Guns off fashion
For many of them
Fathoms its symptoms.
Enters the Polished clean hands
Reddish with stabbing ,
Answers they have not.
Dollars dump in bin
In search of them
With forensic eyes
And better long nose
To sniff out the doers.
With fanfare, we welcome the
Three wise men from white color above.
A vote lost in confidence
To them of our kingdom
For ceaseless lives snuffed off
We , to them . . .
Is hiss of no confidence.
In a while, the drama begins
With impotent synonyms and faces
The black men with rod unveils
Parading them the unkempt
Before our very eyes . . .screen
Sown them a toga of suspects
A little while off,
Breeze blow it off rough
And end comes for the drama.
Alayande Stephen .T
6.14pm
Tues, August 1st, 2006
It was packaged specially to appraise
The incessant political killings in our land,
With the piece emanating from the death
Of Engineer Funsho Williams.
I fixed my gaze
On her twirling sexy eyes
Stripping her naked in my seclusions
Even with her Jeans still on
Hmmm . . .
And we lied.
Two and half years ago
Was the day my
Adam in the hood last
Spoke to an Eve,
This was my yarn.
Six of years ago was hers'
When she last felt the warmth
Of an Adam in the hood
Of it here or the one that
Crossed the Red Sea, I know not
Indeed, that was her tale.
I sent an errand through her heart
Saw in it a white dancing wary lie.
And she sent her eye lashes
Piercing through my puzzling mind
She felt the lie in my cagey smile.
She sighed . . .
And we both lied.
Alayande Stphen. T
Tues ,2nd,August, 2006
5.49pm
It is still me and her in our solitude
Stemming from the Still Waiting poem.
Creators being chased
through orbits
of planetary territories
eyes gaped in some twisted story
observatory from the skies
left to blink from an eye
wanted by all
they were appalled
and told to go live in holes
like moles
then sold to all
genetic mutation
mixed with reptilians
cast out for certain
as a burden to the raising of the curtain
told the garden of Eden was treason
if you did not follow
chromosomes captured
the tree and all the universities built
for transmission of the cult
wanting to sacrifice
and need the blood for us to survive
Written tonuhalan/4/4/06/Tues.
Solutions
to all the solutions
filling our mind
with resolution
let go of harmony
rise and fill that void
of people so annoyed
and toying the questions of our concentration
of points of origins
organs that cant be changed
disarrange from our own reality
x runs the spot
filled with pentagonal anomalies
started from all these prophecies
contacted from degrees of genetic trees
build and it shall be broken
the people arise in a prism of colorful incantation
left outside for the enterprise
of mass revolution
filled with concentration of hats of republicans
born from reptiles with eyes slanted in such manner
set aside in a thermo nuclear age
destroy all the weapons
leaving only solutions to pollution and all retribution
our mind is lost in a world filled with techno
idealistical spiraling to decimation
of our destiny to see the anology of faces
Written tonuhalan/4/4/06/Tues.