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Britney Kimbrough Poem
He was black coffee with just enough sugar for a hint of sweet.
The kind of Man that would make you melt at his feet.
so poised and potent really got the job done.
I was addicted to this coffee after sip one.
Strong enough to Keep you woke, but soothing and warm
enough to drink before bed,
The uniqueness of His flavor constantly dancing in my Head.
I can still taste him on my buds, entering by body to energize my soul.
I never though that a cup of coffee could make a person whole.
His flow was so smooth and he was so delicious to me.
I was drawn to this coffee like a sailor to the sea.
This particular flavor was my favorite my very special stash.
I lost that particular flavor, so that coffee was my last.
But, I miss him because He was Black coffee With just enough sugar for a
hint of sweet.
He flowed beautifully through my life then left after sweeping me off my
feet.
Copyright © Britney Kimbrough | Year Posted 2016
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Britney Kimbrough Poem
I was told I am a "typical black female stereotype"
I grew up without my biological father??... My uncle was my dad.
Despite this fact I am certain he his the best father figure anyone has ever had.
I was told I am a "typical black female stereotype"
I have kids and their father and I sometimes have issues??.
But he was and there no matter what, for every dirty diaper and all the snotty tissues.
He made a promise to them he'd be there every step of the way and has not broken that promise still to this day.
I was told I am you "typical black female stereotype"
Because I have worn extensions quite often. Yet I refused to put a relaxer on my daughters hair in fear that her tight coils it would soften.
I am a "typical black female stereotype" because i nurture my sons. Got forbid I show them affection and they turn out like those "funny ones"??
See I was told the traits of a typical black "*****" is to and I quote "not have a daddy...and have a lot of kids including some? gay boys
And not be ****"....
But by my standards typical is not all that bad.
My uncle was the only farther I eve had
And my kids unlike myself know and love their father very much.
And I love my sons and nurture them with a mother's touch.
So if that makes me a stereotype then I guess? I am one and becoming a stereotype is the best thing I could have ever done.
Copyright © Britney Kimbrough | Year Posted 2017
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Britney Kimbrough Poem
Hanging upside down on my bed thinking what the hell is going on.
Does he not know that my mom is not gone?
He is holding me so tight I can hardly breath or move.
Oh well might as well remain calm; submit to the motion of his groove.
The touch! wow that is different... What is this experience?
There is an overwhelming feeling coming over me...I think this is serious.
Faster and faster...my heart begins to flutter
as well as thoughts about my new found lover.
everything around me starts to fade, His motion has taken me to a different zone.
Until I opened my eyes when my mom's room light came on.
MOVE... I SAID MOVE!...As he looked up to see...I saw the fear in his eyes as he jumped off of me.
She cut the light on... looked around as we pretended to be sleep.
My heart made an overbearing noise, although I didn't say a peep.
That touch... I thought as I stared at him, What does it mean?
Then he kissed me so softly..It was exactly as I dreamed.
Copyright © Britney Kimbrough | Year Posted 2016
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Britney Kimbrough Poem
Mrs Lion searching desperately for his heart
So blind to the fact he didn't have one from the start
Mrs Lion she does not know what to do
Her lover's chest is hollow and she doesn't have a clue
Poor Mrs Lion constantly crying everyday
Not even The wizard could make the pain go away
Oh poor Mrs Lion why can't you see
You can't find what isn't there just let him go;let him be
Mrs Lion even toto got some affection
How long can you take this unchanging rejection
Mrs. Lion please let your courage roar
Walk away from this madness you deserve so much more.
Copyright © Britney Kimbrough | Year Posted 2016
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Britney Kimbrough Poem
I would have loved you in a different life.
No I am sorry I meant I would have loved you right.
you were everything I could have dreamed of.
I did not want to believe it but I was in love.
But, how could I have been I treated you so bad.
Not realizing the magic that we had.
You were my best friend turned love but, that was not enough.
I handled your heart entirely to rough.
The crazy part is most of the terrible things I did, you didn't even know;
and I didn't feel the effects of the self caused damage until you let me go.
In a very short time you became my everything but, then my everything walked away.
You left so fast that I couldn't tell you what I wanted to say.
Things like I love you, I'm sorry, and, please don't let me go.
You meant the world to me I just though that you should know.
I guess it was the timing because I could have loved you In a different life.
No I am sorry I meant I could have love you right.
Now I only love you in my dreams.
The brightest part of my memories, like a big beautiful beam.
Copyright © Britney Kimbrough | Year Posted 2016
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Britney Kimbrough Poem
Stop with all the pressure
The pressure to be
The pressure to see
Just let life flow naturally
Stop being so forceful
It just causes rage
Like our problems have trapped us in a cage
Control your rage
Don't let everything get under your skin
Stop wearing your emotions so extremely thin
Just let go
Don't thinking
Make mistakes and be free
Allow yourself to live happily
Fall in love
Real love not a compromise
Let it sneak up on you like a beautiful surprise
Don't be fearful of the world
Don't believe everything that flows into your ears
If you do you will waste a lot of beautiful years
Be outspoken
Don't keep your objections inside
Being agreeable doesn't make you popular
Show yourself don't hide
You are beautiful
You don't need any confirmation
Love yourself without any hesitation
Life is hard but don't make it harder
Stop with all the pressure
Experience life and become smarter.
Copyright © Britney Kimbrough | Year Posted 2016
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Britney Kimbrough Poem
Being in love with love is the most difficult type of heartbreak you can endure.
Because you always think you've found it but you're never really sure.
Being in love with love is like the constant need to get high
You never are truly satisfied no matter how much you try
People today have been implanted by this unrealistic idea of love
So infatuated with the idea of it we don't realize the lack thereof.
But love is not a label you can slap on a person an say this is it
You have to feel something for the actual person for it to be the right fit.
It's nice to want to be in love but, think about the person; Do you feel them in your soul?
Does the thought of their very existence make you feel whole?
Can you live without them? Can they live with out you?
Is it love or or just an agreement? Do you feel that it's true?
Can you answer these questions or do you not know?
Perhaps you just in love with love and it's time to let it go.
Copyright © Britney Kimbrough | Year Posted 2016
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Britney Kimbrough Poem
For a lifetime you blocked the the thoughts that guided pencil that writes the progress in my life; with new thoughts of pretend love and security that clouded my vision and impaired my sight. My ability to produce a meaningful story was stood still; already written pages like a rose constantly withering with time. My creation was being guided by a new vision and it was no longer mine.I regained consciousness today and saw what was happened and what has become of me but, how do I remove this writers block and begin to rewrite my story as it's supposed to be? I'm afraid, I'm confused, I'm alone, I no longer have direction and I don't know what to do. How do I start over and take my pencil back from you? Maybe I'm too old now a writer past her prime. I let this writer's block consume too much of my time. Should I be logical and stick with this heartbreaking story I never wrote but, continues to sell or face my fear and and create a new story even if I fail.
Copyright © Britney Kimbrough | Year Posted 2016
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Britney Kimbrough Poem
it is 3 am....Mind overflowing...Pencil in my hand
Visions screaming out ;to be but on paper is their demand
Late nights and early mornings...best time to create
Nocturnally creative...I guess it was my fate.
With a sketch and a smile something beautiful coming to form
Spewing out my heart ...this paper I've adorned
Should be asleep..in the morning off to work
But nocturnal creating better justifies my worth.
Copyright © Britney Kimbrough | Year Posted 2016
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