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Best Poems Written by San'tina Mickens

Below are the all-time best San'tina Mickens poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | San'tina Mickens Poem

Wildflower

You are a wildflower. You 
cannot be tamed. It won't even 
be attempted. You cannot be 
domesticated. Only looked at 
for one's pleasure. You aren't 
meant to be loved, only 
admired from afar. Maybe nice 
to touch and feel, but that it all. 
You will be used for one's 
connivence, but not your own. 
You will stay ripe and beautiful 
for your viewer's glory, but at 
your own cost. Yes, my purple 
one, you will be used. Indeed, 
your seductive colors will earn 
you attention, but only 
temporarily. A trophy, you will 
be sometimes. But what else 
did you expect when you 
became a wildflower? You are 
one flower amongst a million. 
What makes you different? You 
will never know because the 
emotions of your colors will not 
let you think that far. You will 
have various admirers and they 
will use your beauty to their 
advantage. Because you are a 
wildflower and for no other 
reason. You are meant to stay 
out in the rain to be caught in 
the storm. It is only so you can 
grow. What did you learn, 
bright yellow one? Whatever 
you do don't let the admirer 
take control of you and pick 
you from the very foundation 
God grew you from! It's your 
sanity! It's your life, pink one! 
When your petals become too 
heavy let the breath of God 
carry that away. For you are a 
wildflower and like a tree, you 
will always be here. No storm 
and no admirer can break your 
fragile stem and tear your 
delicate petals. You are a 
wildflower. Beautiful and 
untamed.

Details | San'tina Mickens Poem

Life

There sat an old man on the 
porch. He was long and gray. 
Skin that looked similar to a 
dried raisin. Dark as a wet 
pecan. His eyes a light green 
color. You know his dad was 
one of those Creoles. How did 
his skin get so dark? Working 
out there in that field for that 
white man, they say. Worked 
there so long his back and 
knees gave out one day while 
he was tilling the land. He sat 
still on the wooden chair in the 
shade of the sloping roof of his 
shack. His wavy gray hair wet 
with sweat around the sides of 
his head and on his bony chest. 
He had lost the interest in 
keeping it groomed so the 
waves had lost their shiny 
luster. The wrinkles pooled 
around his eyes and sunk in his 
cheeks. They told him that he 
had gotten that from his 
grandmama's white side 
because his negro grandmama 
on his daddy's side died at the 
age of 80 without a wrinkle. He 
had always resented his white 
side and the more he loathed 
them the heavier his heart 
became. The heavier his heart 
became the deeper the wrinkles 
became. So this hatred was the 
cycle of his life. His large hands 
spread out dangling at his side. 
Not swinging, just dangling as 
if they had steel poles in them. 
They looked so heavy attached 
to his little arms. The veins 
shown blue through his wrists 
at the base of his hands. More 
privileges and favor with his 
father's people because of that. 
He wore no shirt. Only khaki 
slacks that looked as old as he 
did. He wore no shoes so his 
long feet rested on the creaky 
boards of the porch. He sat 
with his eyes staring out at 
nothing. The children played in 
the yard. Screaming and 
running around with laughter. 
Their mothers just across the 
street talking and gossiping 
about the young women at the 
street corner. Envy in their 
voices as they discussed and 
threw out their opinions. The 
men gathered around the 
mailbox tossing and dice and 
yelling out profanity to each 
other. Everyone going about 
their daily lives. The old man 
still sat motionless as a 
painting. Look closely. His chest 
is not moving. There is no 
breath blowing out of his nose. 
He had become a corpse right 
where he sat. And so we see 
the cycle of life. Laughter. 
Gossip. Lust. Envy. Innocence. 
Play. Youth. Sin. Life. And 
death.

Details | San'tina Mickens Poem

Where the Grass Was Greener

I saw that superficial heaven. 
The streets were lined with 
diamonds and glitter rained 
from the sky. The sun shined a 
bright rose gold and the sky a 
great blue. There were flakes 
of gold hanging from the trees 
and everything glowed. I could 
see the stars in the distance 
made of crystal. The moon 
made of something white and 
shining. The wind felt like silk 
from a king's bed on my skin. 
The grass was littered with 
glitter and golden flakes. So 
much so that it glowed under 
the gold sun. As I walked down 
the sidewalk I could hear a soft 
melody growing louder with 
each step. It was all so 
beautiful. It really was. But 
then I looked across the fence 
and saw another heaven. The 
street was lined with flowers. 
Sun rays danced across the 
green field. The sky was just as 
blue as my current heaven but 
there was something greater 
about it. And then I realized 
that the glitz and glamour of 
the diamonds and rose gold did 
not hinder it's intensity. I saw 
different shades of yellow and 
red leaves hanging from the 
trees and realized just how tall 
the trees were. The stars 
twinkled just a little but that 
was ok because the simplicity 
of it made it that much more 
beautiful to me. The grass was 
green. Very green and soft. 
That's when I realized I had 
walked into this heaven but 
didn't remember climbing the 
fence. I looked down and 
realized I was barefoot. I was 
no longer wearing red 
bottomed heels. And it felt 
good. I took off running across 
the field and the wind rushed 
past me. There was something 
about this wind that felt cooler 
on my skin. Made me feel free 
and refreshed. I noticed that I 
did not hear the crunch of the 
grass under my feet. Only my 
laughter.

Details | San'tina Mickens Poem

The One

I've always been the one to 
"rock the boat". I've always 
been the one to stand up and 
speak out. I've always been the 
one to go against the current 
and disturb the still waters. I've 
always been the one to create 
sound where there is silence. 
I've always been the one to 
shine light into others' faces, 
even when the light was too 
bright and painful. I've always 
been the one to rip off band 
aids and show them what's 
hurting under there. I've 
always been the one to step 
right into the madness, without 
caution nor warning. I've 
always been the one to provoke 
the emotions of others and 
allowed their emotions to affect 
me however it pleased. I've 
always been the drop of oil in a 
river of milk. Just as I have 
broken the pattern in this 
poem, I've always been the 
wildflower amongst a field of 
roses. How dare I? How dare I 
step outside of tradition? How 
dare I associate with the gold 
haired boy who told me to think 
for myself? How dare I let his 
words influence red knowledge, 
white anger, and blue freedom? 
Have I gone mad? Was I not 
taught better? This is where 
knowledge meets sanity, I 
guess. This is where fear meets 
confidence, I hope. This is 
where my future meets my 
calling, I see.

Details | San'tina Mickens Poem

Still, Dark

"Grandpa tell me the story 
again!", the young boy yelled in 
excitement, as he and his 
parents entered the room. It 
had been only one month to 
the day since the last time they 
had come visit the young boy's 
grandfather, but as usual he 
acted as if it had been longer. 
"Woah there my boy!", the 
boy's grandpa said, as he 
jumped into his lap. "Gifton be 
careful!", his mother yelled at 
him. "Oh he's fine! This old 
man still has some strength in 
him!", the grandfather said. 
"Tell me the story, grandpa!" 
The old man tried to hide the 
smile that crept up onto his 
face. He was always glad to 
hear his grandson running 
down the hallway to his room 
just as anxious and happy to 
see him as he was to see the 
little boy. "Ok. So there was 
this small town out in the west 
called Blindentown. Now you 
had New York that was famous 
for being the city that never 
sleeps and Florida famous for 
being the sunshine state, but 
Blindentown was famous for 
one thing-being the darkest 
town in the whole country at 
night! Now it didn't get much 
sunshine in the daytime either, 
but it was all just as beautiful. 
At night every store light, 
street light, and every house 
light would be turned off. It was 
so dark you couldn't see your 
hand in front of your face! Each 
night everyone hurried and got 
in bed because legend has it 
that if you're not asleep while 
you're in bed whatever you 
hear outside will force it's way 
into your house and eat you 
alive! So every night make sure 
when you go to bed you go 
right to sleep, ok?" Gifton 
nodded his head slowly. The old 
man pulled a dollar out his robe 
and handed it to him. "Now run 
down the hall to the vending 
machine and get some candy." 
Gifton grabbed the dollar and 
ran off. His parents stood silent 
for awhile. "I'm gonna tell him 
one day," the old man said, not 
even turning around to face 
them. "You have to, Dad," the 
mom said. "He's going to figure 
it out eventually." The old man 
shook his head, staring out the 
window into a bright sunny day, 
into darkness.

Details | San'tina Mickens Poem

The Jade

It's like I'm jade in the mist of 
diamonds. Where's my hero 
who will discover me despite 
the temptation of those 
diamonds? I see someone. 
Wait...he's picked up a diamond 
and walked away. Will no one 
ever discover my worth? Look 
past my shining shades of 
green. Turn away from the 
glisten of those diamonds. I am 
the one in a million. And then I 
spot someone. Who is that? He 
looks confused, but he's 
walking torwards me. Is this 
really happening? He's passing 
all the diamonds! I see that he 
has spotted me. And then I'm 
afraid. He will pick me up and 
see that I'm different. He won't 
understand my beauty and 
what elements make up my 
existence. He will see that I'm 
as beautiful as those diamonds, 
but far too complicated to 
figure out. Will he see that my 
light can shine through to his 
soul? Will he see that I'm real? 
He has to see there is so much 
more to me than beauty. I'm so 
much deeper. Maybe that's why 
my jade is far too complicated 
to penetrate. He approaches 
and examines me. There is a 
look on his face as if something 
surprised him. He has realized 
something in me. He has 
learned all there is to know abt 
me and my jade is beautiful to 
him. He submerges into each 
layer and explores what is 
there. He accepts and loves the 
very raw me. Before I was 
dusted off and shined to a 
superficial brightness. My jade 
is different. It is beautiful and it 
is deep. not shallow and 
predictable like a diamond. You 
have to search far and wide to 
find my kind. And if you do 
come upon one of my kind, it 
was not a coincidence.

Details | San'tina Mickens Poem

Rest

You are so afraid to let go. 
You're afraid to let your mind 
go so that you fall to sleep 
because you know you will not 
have control of what it thinks. 
You don't want to ungrip your 
train of thought so that your 
mind will wonder into 
unconsciousness. You don't 
want your real feelings to 
surface into your dreams. You 
want to occupy your mind's 
thoughts. You fear losing 
control and facing your 
troubles. You know that they 
are bubbling right in the back 
of your mind. And if and when 
you fall to sleep they will float 
into your dreams and you will 
have to face them. You are 
sleepy child. Your soul is tired. 
And your feet are worn. Your 
heart is ragged. Rest now. Let 
go. It won't hurt as much as 
you think it will.

Details | San'tina Mickens Poem

Red Clouds

Depression has reached 
through the clouds and found 
me. It has grasped me and 
threatens to drag me to hell. I 
could probably stop it but that 
would require too much energy. 
Something I don't have. It has 
fully engulfed me. I am 
submerged into its layers and 
feeling each bite and scratch on 
the surface of my heart. I feel 
the heavy chains of blue 
wrapped around my mind. It is 
physical. It is dangerous, yes I 
know. Yet I toy with how far it 
will go. It could really swallow 
me whole and I shall be lost 
from the light forever. Where is 
that little light you were singing 
about? Shine it into the 
darkness so that I may follow it 
back to sanity. The madness is 
all too real now. I'm numb yet 
everything I feel physically and 
emotionally is magnified. I feel 
it more and more each time my 
heart beats. I feel it ripping me 
apart. It hurts. It hurts. Help 
me. Save me. Lift me out of 
this river that sinks deep. It's 
so deep. It will surely drown 
me. Scream. Scream loud into 
the bright darkness! Let it 
know that you are angry. Let it 
know you are hurt. Get it out. 
Scream. Cry. Babble. Argue. Do 
whatever it takes because if 
you don't, depression will reach 
out through the clouds and 
grasp you.