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Kimolisa Mings Poem
My body
Was made to dance.
This is a fact,
Not a truth
That could be manipulated
Like a piece of rope
Being made into a knot.
My body
Was made to sway
And flow,
To dip low
And reach high
To the rhythms
Of the universe.
The rhythms
Of a beating heart,
Of wings beating the air,
Of the crashing waves,
Of everything
I am fortunate to hear
And translate into motion.
Oh no,
I am not a trained dancer,
Who practices and practices
To get the technique,
Develop the form,
And in the end,
Add the passion,
If it wasn’t there before.
I won’t be found
On stages dancing
To Mozart, Miles or Eminem,
Nor will I be found
On dance floors
With a number on
My oh so erect back.
I will be found
On crowded dance floors,
In my bedroom,
In my living room,
Under the moonlight,
On beaches,
Letting the rhythms of the universe
Possess me.
You would find me
Dancing,
Be it to a sassy salsa beat,
A fun Bollywood tune,
A little soca,
Some reggae,
Or a soulful piece of jazz.
Be it to a rhumba,
A fast pace techno,
An irresistible house jam,
A fusion of west meets east,
A pop tune I can’t
Get out of my head,
You would find me
Dancing.
And even though,
My mind says no,
“You’ll make a fool of yourself,”
“You don’t know how to dance to that,”
My body ignores it,
And taps a foot,
Sways a hip,
And before long,
My body is in motion.
My body
Was made to dance.
This is a fact,
Not a truth.
Copyright © Kimolisa Mings | Year Posted 2011
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Kimolisa Mings Poem
Tomorrow ain't here yet,
Its still hours away
And when it comes,
I hold onto it
Only to realize it's an illusion.
In my grasp
Is today, and today
Is not enough,
Is not what I expected.
Once again, I hedge my bets
On tomorrow.
Then a million tomorrows
Pass me by,
Or so it appears
When I look back.
Looking back at the wasted
Yesterdays, I put back on
My rose coloured shades
And look towards tomorrow.
I, eventually, regretted my yesterdays
And dreamt of tomorrows,
Then one day, I looked
At the today that stood
Before me, recognizing it what it is.
Today was the clay,
I could still mold
Into the tomorrow I yearned for.
Today was the marble
Ready and waiting for my chisel.
The blank canvas
Prepared for my paint.
The blank page
At the ready for my words.
Slowly, with much resistance,
I put aside my rose coloured shades,
I pulled up my sleeves
And dealt with today.
I used the tools and lessons
Of yesterday and my desires
And wants for tomorrow,
And I made today
The foundation for a beautiful
Tomorrow.
The beautiful tomorrows
That became beautiful todays.
Copyright © Kimolisa Mings | Year Posted 2010
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Kimolisa Mings Poem
Whispers...
Don't wake her,
Let her rest.
Whispers....
Don't tell her,
She's not ready.
Whispers awakened her
From a drug induced
Slumber.
She listens
For a voice
So familiar
It could have been her own.
A voice
Cooing at a child,
Smiling in it's vibrations
Making promises
It will keep,
Making promises
It can never keep.
This voice was not there
Among the whispers,
And yet she yearned
To hear this voice.
The slumber was thick
And yet she swam
To the surface
Using all she could summon
To break the surface
To break the slumber.
As her eyelids fluttered
A strong hand
Grasped her hand,
Pulling her through
To the real world.
He sat at her bedside,
A face as familiar
As her own.
And with her eyes
She asked the question
He was afraid to answer.
"She was beautiful."
It was the word
Was
That plunged her back
Into the abyss of dreams
And unrealized wishes,
Leaving her there
For a day,
Or was it two.
When she woke,
Those words roused her.
When she slept,
Those words were her lullaby.
No child
Rested in her arms,
Once nestled in her womb.
No child
Suckled at her bosom,
Now heavy with sustenance.
No child
To cry out
For her mother.
Time waits for no one,
And days pass,
Then weeks and months
And soon a year
Had come and gone.
Soon another child
Filled her womb
And this child was born,
And then another,
And then another.
Three children
Had rested in her arms,
Suckled at her bosom
And cried out to her,
Their mother.
And when asked
About the fourth
She would say,
"She was beautiful."
Copyright © Kimolisa Mings | Year Posted 2011
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Kimolisa Mings Poem
It's time.
The two times before
Were tests
To see if she could
Identify the moment
When she should leave.
It's time.
The words
Buzzed in her head
Over and over
As she tucked the last items
In the bag she had prepard.
A bag similar to the one
An expectant mother would have ready,
But she would never
Need that particular bag,
He made sure of that.
It's time.
It was 10am,
He had been gone
The better part of three hours.
The longest three hours of her life.
She waited patiently,
Just in case he came home
For some forgotten tool or document.
It's time.
She slipped out the back door
And scaled two neighbours' fences
Before entering the street.
With her hat pulled down low
She made her way to the bus station.
It was time to leave town.
It's time.
She bought a ticket to California,
Los Angeles to be specific.
She would become a lost angel
In the city of angels.
It's time.
As she waited for the bus,
She heard a car shrieking
To a stop outside.
She shrank into her seat,
But it was for nought,
As cruel hands
Pulled her from her seat.
It's time.
First came a slap,
Then another,
And by the time the ticket agent
Came out to pull him away from her
He was punching her.
It's time.
He shrugged off the agent
And ran to her,
But by that time
She had pulled out
Her grandpappy's Smith & Wesson,
And with shaking hands
She lodged a bullet
In his heart.
It's time.
The gun was a present
From her momma,
And from the day she got it
She practiced on old toys
Behind the abandoned toy factory.
She practice until it was time.
Today, the time came
And it tuly was time.
It's time
For her abusive husband to die.
Copyright © Kimolisa Mings | Year Posted 2011
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Kimolisa Mings Poem
On a mountain top,
In a distant land,
Lived a fierce dragon
With talons sharper
Than the great butcher’s knife
And a breath
Hotter than a million suns.
His sole purpose for being
Was to protect a chalice.
This chalice was no ordinary goblet,
It was cast in gold
And encrusted with diamonds,
Emeralds, rubies and pearls,
But what it was made of
Paled in comparison
With what it held within.
Legend has it
That within the chalice
Was an elixir of courage.
An endless supply of
Pure Courage,
But no one had ever
Ventured to the mountain top
To sip from said chalice.
In a village
Not too far from the mountain
Lived the son of a farmer
Named Leonid.
Leonid had one desire,
A burning desire
To become a warrior,
To become a great warrior,
To fight for his village,
To protect his home.
Unfortunately,
Leonid did not believe
He possessed the courage
To make his dream a reality,
But while as the local market
He overheard some talking
About the chalice
Guarded by a dragon
On a nearby mountain.
The answer to a problem
That had been plaguing him.
When Leonid came of age,
He packed a few belongings
And started his journey
To becoming a warrior.
He made his way
To the mountain top,
To the chalice.
It was a journey
That took five days,
Leonid rested only when he need to
And drank and ate
What the earth provided.
The water from springs,
The berries and fruits form trees,
The meat from animals he caught.
Every now and then,
He would come upon a village,
And he would stop for ale
And conversation.
When people heard
Where Leonid was headed,
They would try to discourage him,
Telling him stories of
How fierce the dragon was.
Leonid would patiently listen,
But when he left the village,
He went in the direction
Of the mountain top.
His ascent of the mountain
Started on the fourth day.
This, surely, was the hardest part
Of the journey.
At some points the only way up
Was to scale a wall of rock
With barely a foot hold.
Lesser men would have given up,
Leonid would have given up,
But his desired pushed him on,
And within two days,
Leonid reached the top.
After resting for a few hours,
Leonid walked to the dragon’s cave.
He was rested and prepared
To confront the dragon
And claim the Chalice of Courage.
Copyright © Kimolisa Mings | Year Posted 2010
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Kimolisa Mings Poem
"Sing!"
The word tore through
The silence.
A silence as thick
As the darkness
That wrapped around us.
A darkness
Inhabited by people
Equally as dark.
"Sing and raise us
From these shackles,
From our misery,
From our fears,
From our reality!"
This command
Was not for me,
But the woman
Who sat in a distant corner.
Her voice rose
Like the sun,
Steady and slow
Warming our souls.
The clarity of her voice
Was like a dew drop
Magnifying the lines on a leaf
Upon which it sat.
Her voice was as beautiful
As an orchid,
And like an orchid
It was a parasite,
But instead of a tree or plant,
It got it's sustenance
From her soul.
And still
It was not enough.
"Stop, stop,
STOP!!!"
"I do not want to hear
A song as sweet as
A ripe mango or
A freshly chopped sugar cane."
"I want to hear a song
That is rich in pain
As well as triumph.
A song drenched
In the tears of brave men
And steeped in the sorrow
Of their women folk."
"I want our song."
The silence stretched
Like a sunset
Under a cloud heavy sky.
Then the song began,
A song we all knew.
A song that had brought
Tears to the eyes of kings.
A song that grew courage
In the hearts of cowards.
The song was infectious,
Leaping from man to woman
And woman to man
Like a great sickness
Found deep in the jungle.
Before long,
Voices rose into the darkness,
Vibrations bouncing off of
Unseen walls crashed against
Or bodies.
In this moment,
We were one.
One voice.
One people.
Bound for one place
And from that moment
We shall remain
One people.
One people
In the darkness.
Copyright © Kimolisa Mings | Year Posted 2011
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Kimolisa Mings Poem
He sat at the bar,
She had just left
To use the restroom,
And he pondered
His situation.
Yes,
She was beautiful,
Curves in the right places,
Weave perfectly done,
Not a track in sight,
Outfit exhibiting all
That God had blessed her with,
But.....
But she spent more time
In the hairdresser's chair
Than she spent in bookstores.
Philosophical conversations
Left him confused and
He was a philosophy major.
Yes,
She was pretty,
But she was like
A beautiful vase,
Pretty on the outside,
Empty on the inside.
He sat at the bar,
Trying to put words together
Kind enough
Not to damage her ego,
Strong enough
To let her know
That they were over.
Words pulled him
From his thoughts,
They came from somewhere
Behind him,
They were a mix of
Male and female,
Peppered with a rhetoric
His mind hungered for.
Slowly, he turned around,
Searching the bar
For a couple
In deep conversation.
They sat two yards away,
Two book ends,
Brother and sister.
He sipped his whiskey,
Pretending to be taking in
The whole bar scene,
But he was really
Fixated on her,
Fixated on the dialogue.
She was no stunner
By society's standards,
But the more she spoke,
The more he was enamored.
She glance his way
And smiled, not knowing
That in that gesture
She stole his heart.
Just as he was about
To stand,
To join them,
To introduce himself,
To join this battle of words,
His woman appeared.
She whispered naughty things,
Delicious, seductive things,
Things that would have made
Him forget himself.
Not this time,
Or any time in the future.
He spread out the
Roughly sewn patchwork
Of words he had planned to tell her,
Then he bid her goodbye,
Slipping out of her grasp.
He didn't join
The brother and sister,
He just walked out of the bar.
He was not that kind of guy,
The kind that would
Break up with one woman
And pursue another
In the space of five minutes.
It was two weeks later
When he saw the sister again,
This time, he joined her,
This time, he introduced himself,
This time, he planned to be with
A woman that stimulated him
Mind, body and soul.
Copyright © Kimolisa Mings | Year Posted 2011
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Kimolisa Mings Poem
“You walked many miles,
Climbed this mountain
To confront me,
A dragon with the reputation
Of being fierce!
All to possess a so called
Chalice of Courge.
By doing all that you have done
You proved that you already possess
The courage you seek.”
The dragon smiled once more
As he saw understanding
Washed over Leonid’s face,
But soon followed sadness
And disappointment.
“Do not ever regret this journey.
This journey was not to acquire a chalice,
This journey was to unblock
The spring of courage
That resides in you,”
Said the dragon.
“This spring will never grow dry
Unlike this chalice.
This spring is natural
And there will never be any side effects,
And one day, this spring
Will become a strong river.”
These words made Leonid stand a bit taller.
As it had turned dark,
The dragon allowed Leonid
To stay the night
As the journey down
Would be dangerous in the dark.
The dragon and the young man
Talked most of the night
And it was quite late
When they both fell asleep.
The next day,
After they said their good byes,
And as Leonid was about to leave the cave,
He turned back to the dragon.
“Dragon, even though
I could not drink from the chalice,
May I, at least, see in it?”
Asked Leonid, timidly.
Understanding how curiosity
Can gnaw at a person’s soul,
The dragon tipped the chalice
Low enough for Leonid to see in it.
The Chalice of Courage
Was empty.
“Sometimes, we need something
To aim for,
For us to take the journey
We need to take,
Even if that something
Is nothing at all,”
The dragon said.
Leonid nodded and left the cave.
He made his way down
The mountain safely
And when asked,
He said he had drunk
From the Chalice of Courage.
Leonid had gone on
To becoming a great warrior,
And only to those closest to him,
He would tell the true story
Of The Chalice of Courage.
Copyright © Kimolisa Mings | Year Posted 2010
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Kimolisa Mings Poem
With a staff fitted with a blade in hand,
Leonid entered the cave.
It was dark and hot,
And with each step,
Leonid became more and more fearful.
The cave then opened up
Into a large cavern,
And in the center,
On a stone throne,
Sat the dragon
And in his hand was the chalice.
Quickly,
Leonid positioned himself
To attack with the sharp end
Of his staff pointed at the dragon.
“Now, where are your manners?”
Boomed the dragon.
“You enter my home uninvited,
Point a pointy stick at me
And not even say a simple
‘Good day, Dragon’.”
Leonid was taken aback,
He did not expect
The dragon to speak
And not like a nobleman.
He, quickly, put aside his astonishment
And yelled back,
“Good day, Dragon,
I have come for the chalice
You hold in your hand.
I am prepared to do battle!”
“Do battle?!?
Whatever for, my dear boy?”
Why exactly have you come to my home
And threaten my life?
Have I burnt down your house?
Killed your entire family?
Killed your beloved dog?”
Questioned the dragon.
“Well, no…
But I want the Chalice of Courage
And I will do whatever
I have to do to get it,
Including vanquishing you!”
Answered Leonid.
“Truly,
Why don’t you simply
Ask me for the chalice?”
Cooed the dragon,
“It would be much easier.”
“Alright, Dragon.
May I, please, have
The Chalice of Courage,
So I may sip from it
And become courageous.”
The dragon stared at Leonid
For two heart beats,
Then said “No!”
“If you were not
Going to give me the chalice,
Why did you make me ask for it?”
Bellowed Leonid, angrily.
“First things first,
I made you ask
Because it was the polite thing to do,”
Said the dragon,
“And I won’t give you
The Chalice of Courage
Because you don’t need it.”
Leonid’s jaw dropped,
And he stared at the dragon
As though he had lost his mind.
After a minute or two,
He spluttered,
“I don’t need it?!
I don’t need it?!!
Do you know what I went through
To get here?
How far I traveled?
How I was jeered at
By the village folk?”
The dragon just smiled
At the young man
Growing more and more angry,
“Oh, I know what you went through.
It is quite a task
To make it up here,
But the fact that you did it,
That you made it here,
Proves that you don’t need it.”
Copyright © Kimolisa Mings | Year Posted 2010
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