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Best Poems Written by Donald Minor

Below are the all-time best Donald Minor poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Message To The Blackman

If slavery was a choice, as some have agreed, then what are we?
If watching your father and mother endure rape or murder was a choice,
Then why do we sit on idle hands, while Trump eradicates our posterity’s opportunities,
As if they were written in sand?
If not being able to read was a choice,
Then why do you go to the PlayStation in a rush
while your library card collects dust?
Even a Ward educates themselves,
Even the eunuch Greyjoy developed the courage to stand against evil.

In the midst of upheaval, one mustn’t look through a straw while planning the future.
The sagacious knows fighting must be eschewed when only death is in thy terms.
Allah heard their suffering, but sometimes the way out is through.
They didn’t endure out of docility or obsequiousness,
But out of discernment and sagacity.
The desolate doesn’t become prosperous by exclaiming tumultuous absurdities,
But by embodying opulent minds.

Go back to the mother, which is the way, and endure the storm,
While being metamorphic in form.
You see, my Kings and Queens,
The only choice they made was to give their posterity a fighting chance,
To gather strength while the usurpers wane and start to underestimate.
We must pick up the quill and write our own fates,
No more brooding or carping about what Donny Thrump is doing.
One man’s decisions determine another man’s life,
As much as a drought challenges the land.
Yet, life, like the Way, will always find a path to flourish,
Forevermore permeating even the harshest conditions.

We must stop talking about what great leaders and men should be,
And become Great Men and Assiduous Leaders.
We were the first great civilization and shall act as such.
Lead with grace,
Strike with prudence,
Read great books that enrich the mind,
Treat each other with unyielding reverence,
Because we each carry a piece of the divine.
I am that I am, and I am my brother's keeper.

Details | Donald Minor Poem

Introspection

My eyes are open
My mind is pacing 
My heart is racing

So I close my eyes
And sit in quietude 
I was told it fabricates a different attitude 

Looking for the child 
who needs to escape 
While I listen to the echoes 
Of the bowls reverberate

As I look into my Minor eyes
I begin to catechize
As I analyze 
I begin to realize 
My younger mind has been traumatized 

Now I see my inhibitions with great lucidity 
So I begin to question their validity 

As we confabulated
Liberation is what eventuates

I open my eyes to a new feeling 

Once a caged mind
Now unfettered 
Once vacillated 
Now resolute 

Now I embark on an odyssey 
With consecrated determination 
Surmounting impediments without hesitation 

Oh how my life has changed 
Since I’ve been acquainted with meditation.

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Mindfulness

Be mindful of what you consume, for it shapes your being.

Nourish your vessel with compassion, as your diet influences your inclinations. 

Choose your music judiciously, for rhythm resonates deeply with your soul. 

Be mindful of what you read, as words penetrate straight to your heart. 

Always practice prudence, for the devil’s trickery often hides in the guise of necessity.

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Darkness We Meet Again

Alas! You dark, grotesque, vile servant of Lucifer, the antithesis of the morning star. 

Once again, you have sought me out and endeavored to siphon my light at the end of my tunnel. 

In the past, you may have thwarted my desires, cast me into purgatory, 
and whispered sophistry in the crevices of my mind. 

But NOW your machinations are no threat to me. What once was a callow mind has turned into growth over time. 

I have learned to see where there is no light, how to climb where there is no ladder. 

So do your best,  you nocturnal fiend. Your reign is over; you no longer have influence over me. 

Now I know, good times and bad times are like tides that ebb and flow.

 So traverse the realms to shroud my days in night.

 I will say to thee, “Hello, my old friend. Do your worst, because God has bestowed upon me my own personal light, and I walk by it habitually every day and night.”

Details | Donald Minor Poem

God’s Chosen People

I want to start by thanking all women for bringing balance and sensibility to our lives,  
For embodying resilience and unconditional love (agápe).  
Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers—of furries and Sapiens alike!  
Because all life is connected, each sharing a piece of the Divine.  
We all need agápe love from God’s chosen people—  
The only humans who create life,  
The only ones who build a connection with us before our eyes meet the light.  

Do we call those who supplied ink to Mary Cassatt the painters?  
As essential as they were, painters they were not.  

Mothers love—  
The kind that shields us mentally,  
Protecting us from the scourges of this insidious yet redeemable world.  
They are the guardians of life,  
The shepherds of minds shaping the future.  

In moments when our vision narrows into a tunnel,  
Your euphonious voices guide us back with a tender reminder:  
“What about the children?”  

I extend a special thank you—  
To my mother, who never gave up on me even when I was in the depths of despair.  
To my Aunt Cora, who saw a man even when my actions were those of a boy.  
To Tina, Mario’s mother, for raising a man embedded in the word of God.  
To my cousins, who reminded me I was wrong  
When my actions were filled with egotistical flaws.  
To you all, and so many more, I am grateful.  

This world was created by God,  
But sustained and perpetuated by the love of its mothers.  

So, on behalf of all life on this beautiful planet,  
Even though sometimes it’s hard to see—  

You are valued, like soil to a tree.  
You are heard, as salubrious as morning birds.  
You are beautiful, like vast stars in the nights sky.  

Even though we sometimes rattle your nerves,  
We are grateful for you all.  

As Nietzsche said,  
“You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star.”  

Happy Mother’s Day.

Details | Donald Minor Poem

Imagine

Imagine getting sick of thinking what if.
Imagine getting sick of not believing in thyself.
Imagine waking up every morning with a goal and a plan.
Selah.

You work toward your goal vehemently.
And that plan you can always modify, 
but from it you never relent.
Selah.

God blew His breath, which imbued in every crevice 
Until our metaphysics lit up. 
He made us in his image and to Him limits are nothing but devilish gimmicks.
Alas, then why would you ever accept such sophistry as limits?
Selah.

Imagine what you would have.
Imagine where you could be.
But most importantly, imagine who you would become.
Selah