Photo by Sora Sagano on Unsplash
Koi become dragons
if they want it enough.
I’ve heard the lore,
seen both koi and dragon,
but never observed one
push through.
Swimming
with the current,
I doubt experiencing it
personally,
but
the Yellow River
is long, and
unpredictable.
I haven’t seen everything.
***
Written for dVerse Quadrille #81 – Here there be {poem} dragons, hosted by whimsygizmo. Other poets have contributed here.
Blue sky is a liar; her limits are blue
Her lies transmute fires that weld me to you
The sun brings to light every pigment we hide
Our surface perspires; misty deja-vu
The wind carries laughter, cool respite, rain’s scent
Nostalgia transpires; soil smelling of you
The earth turns away as my summer sun sets
Our shadows conspire to blend beyond view
To know is to love – is to hurt you, I fear
My love won’t expire; pain melds me to you
Whisper to the night, as blue-sky gathers lies
When your Bear retires, new moon guides us through.
***
Written for dVerse Poetry Form: Ghazal, hosted by Grace this week. Other poets have contributed here.
Image by author
I don’t believe in it
it’s an obvious lie
not whether or not
it should exist, mind you
but its alleged existence
in an existential sense
there is no such thing
as interracial marriage
there is only the union
of those vowing to unite
for life is far longer
than most would know,
far shorter than we think
and it is ripe with vile horrors,
disappointments and cruelties,
and capricious random chaos, and so
if while navigating our bedlam
providence smiles upon you
as you brave muck and misery alone,
and you’re lucky enough to find
someone whom you vibe with
who leads with kindness, loves with
gentleness, rewards loyalty in-kind,
and makes you want to rise
to face the winds of fate
with a defiant smile on your face
then what in multicultural hell
does it matter of their lineage, creed,
sexual preference,
or the color of their skin?
Image by author
***
Originally posted on Medium.
Of course, I couldn’t pick just one rendition…
Shared on dVerse Open Link Night.
Photo by Sasha Freemind on Unsplash
I allowed myself
a sliver of daylight’s hope
and in rushed despair
and so I cower in bed
as the sun sank towards the west
***
Photo by Ian Schneider on Unsplash
never understood her,
wish I could’ve felt I was
good-enough for her,
the most popular girl in school,
the top-of-the-class, with class to boot,
the most smartest, the biggest-hearted,
the most valedictorian-charted,
I valued her diction; her glory from afar,
like the twinkle of the stars in her eyes,
she spied me in the lower-brackets
perched in the basement of my thought-lint,
never meant to breathe the same air,
but she shared her atmosphere,
she grabbed my booty in the hallway
with a blue-wink,
she made me think that she was fruity
and all the way loony,
cause she was same age as me,
but she carried her energy
like a Motown boomer; like she’d sooner
rub elbows with Gladys, Ross, and ‘em,
and it was madness that she’d
waste her chi on me
you see, my bracket’s in the basement,
it consists of only me,
indeed, her tactics out-of-phase meant
insistence was her sweet-tea
but can’t you see? Her judgment’s clouded
like an imperfected diamond,
she thinks I’m a find, a rare beautiful kind
of boy deserving her time, that alone
among dissenting voices of mine
should disqualify her from sanity
and sound choices refined
you see, my bracket’s in the basement,
it consists of only me,
indeed, her tactics out-of-phase sent
persistence to how we be
my syndrome hooked right in-place;
I see her and stutter,
her skin tone looked like it
tasted like peanut butter,
I wish my vocabulary
could’ve carried verbs that varied
from “uhh” and “uhm”, but she
carried our conversing beyond the peepers
and pursed-lips of
bemused green-eyed gatekeepers
I never made a move from the basement,
but the placement of her groove made me
reassess the fallacy of classes
from behind coke-bottle glasses
where she said my eyes
were too pretty to be so sad
and her smiles evaporated fog,
eradicated smog, changed air currents,
and lent me change in perspective,
and her elective had one smile
specifically for me
you see, my bracket was in the basement,
it consisted of only me, but indeed,
her tactics, out-of-phase,
lent resistance to my reality
***
Photo by Sagar Dani on Unsplash
We were
the main characters
in a puppet show,
rehearsing countless times,
giggling
when we messed-up,
encouraging each other
to try again and again and
I guess
working so
closely with me
led you towards
unexpected feelings
of needing to be
closer,
so you leaned
into your vulnerability,
asking me,
in front of blue sky,
heavy summer sun,
and all our classmates
if I had a girlfriend,
and if not,
if I wanted one,
and if you
could play the role.
I scoffed
and told you
it depended on
if you could tell me
how you read my mind
as I confidently
rewarded your vulnerability
with a reach
for your hand
and
a first kiss
that split
our reality
in two,
into
before and after
as an audience
whooped and ahhed
and fell into ambient
background noise as time
propelled us forward into
meeting each other’s parents,
graduations, bittersweet goodbyes,
joyful welcome backs,
midday “I do’s”,
midnight “we did’s”,
telling our kids
the kid-friendly parts
of our tale from the
puppet-show all the way
to their smiles, living
a lifetime of smiles
that would certainly had been
had my childish grip
on my fragile vulnerability
matched your Black Girl
Magical openness
within the moment
of you opening to me
in front of God,
blue sky, glaring sun,
and leering bystanders.
But we both know that
rehearsal and reality
live two separate lives.
That’s not how it went down.
Oh, I did scoff though.
It’s what I did best when
looking for coiled demons
and ghouls hunting for
a pound of free flesh.
In every corner
of every heart,
I found shadows
of cynical weather
whether under blue sky
or not.
Pinning down demons
I thought I saw,
I scoffed and told you
it depended on if
you could tell me
what kind of fool you thought I was,
turning on my heel
to the sound of whoops and ahhs,
content at ripping out your heart
in front of our peers
before you had access to mine.
But as I peeked over my shoulder,
expecting your smirking derision,
instead, there was only the specter
of sincere aftermath, and tears
willing themselves not to fall.
That was ages ago,
but even now,
when I think of you,
I wish I hadn’t blocked
the gift you’d given us.
I wish I said the lines
and kissed you
like I so desperately
wanted.
I wish our last moments
together
were so much more than that;
more than just one of many
terrible rehearsals.
***
Photo by Vlad Marisescu on Unsplash
You sneer daggers into me
as laughter salts the wound
public mockery
of a sincerity
now informed and attuned
Your cruel prank buys my silence
closing an open door
peer-pressure’s guidance
snuffed-out an alliance
nevermore underscored
nevermore understood
yeah, I get the gag
the levity was good
your pals had me tagged
lesson was not obscured
joke’s on you, love
joke’s on you
I dual-wield love; hand and soul
season it with sunbeams
serving love songs whole
with deftly breath-control
mid-summer’s blue daydream
I whisper sweet everythings
arms spread, soaring above
what fulfillment brings
rings of joy as it clings
to azure-perfumed love
to azure-perfumed love
dual-wielded, noun and verb
rising, soaring above
it echoes and reverbs
with all you make spoof of
joke’s on you, love
joke’s on you
***
Image by author. (He made me step off the curb. He’s not really taller than me.)
If you asked me
what makes a man
– and I mean
a good man;
someone who
keeps it one-hundred
at all times –
I would pause, smile
and tell you all about
my little brother.
If you asked me
what makes a man
a devoted dad
who may not have
all the right answers
all the time,
but who still
throws himself, full-assed
into the thankless
hard parts,
again,
I’d begin the convo
with my lil’ bro.
If you asked me
what makes a man
a keeper of the flame
a caretaker of
my earliest dreams
and fears
a silent observer
when silence is needed
a vocal objector
when I need to be checked
and called-out
the loudest supporter
when I need saving
from myself
and the ruckus-bringer
when shit gets too hot
and needs extinguishing
with a flame-thrower,
well shit,
you should already know
though I do feel bad for you
and great for me.
You see,
I’m the one
lucky enough
to be able to say,
“Let me tell you about
my lil’ bro, Phil…”
***
Written for my lil’ bro Phil, on the occasion of his 40th birthday, and shared on dVerse OpenLinkNight #243. Others contributed poems here.
Photo by Erin Simmons on Unsplash
You’re a pain in my ass; sassy so-and-so.
Atypical opening as odes go, I know.
But your fiery spirit serves you well thus far,
and as far as you’ve come,
who the hell knows where you’ll go?
I’m going to level with you here, dearest one;
this wasn’t supposed to have rhyme or meter.
In fact, I almost wrote another clichéd line
– about catching the stars, as if!
I mean, I know, right? – but
you’ve been earthbound
for a quarter-century now,
so no more fairy tales.
You’re as tough as I raised you, tougher
than I envisioned, and I’m relieved for it.
You’re tempered for a cruel world, and yet
you refuse to let it make you unkind.
And while I’d love to take all the credit,
like I knew the masterpiece of you
was hidden in the marble all along,
you are the artist of your destiny;
I’m just pleased to see who you are
and who you will become.
I say again, as it is a good catchphrase;
you’re a pain in my ass; sassy so-and-so,
and I’m lucky to have you around, I know,
wherever you go, I’ll be with you always.
Oh, and please rinse your dishes.
I’m your dad; I’m not your maid.
***
Written for my Turtle, on her 25th birthday.
A blue side of pale winter sky
A false promise of warmth
Mocking lie leaves frostbite
We learn to live without feeling
Breath before death leaves us warmer
Beyond all comprehension of touch
A blue side of grey spring and sleet
A note passed across the order
It reads as up is down and I am worthy
I compound why nots ‘till I forgot
We would never be, yet I felt warmer
Lark or not, I envisioned her touch
A blue side of bluest midsummer dream
Her declaration under scalding eyes
A fragile fondness that could never be
I lash-out, shredding her baby-bird song
I wound her before she could burn me
Sense of touch long beyond the pale
A blue side of amber autumn gale
Earnest harvest of unmindful fullness
Ripened want withered on bough
Unseen by us, insulated from life
Preparing for death has iced our light
Beyond all comprehension of touch
***
Written for dVerse Poetic: Theories of Everything and Anything, hosted by merrildsmith. Other poets contributed here.
Also written for NaPoWriMo’s day 29 prompt: write “a poem that meditates, from a position of tranquility, on an emotion you have felt powerfully.”
In sixth grade, I was pranked by a girl who pretended to have a crush on me. Once the prank was revealed, I was the laughing stock of my class. Prior to that, I’ve always had poor self-esteem.
That prank confirmed every awful thing I thought of myself and informed my actions in the future whenever I found myself connecting with someone who claimed to be into me. I just wanted to explore those feelings again as an old man.
Anyway, I’m pleased to be the last person to complete #NaPoWriMo2019 #GloPoWriMo2019. Phew! Sorry I’ve been away for a bit. Life has been quite challenging these days.
I have a few more entries this month, but soon I’ll be on another extended break. I’m due for a sabbatical from writing as I spend more time reading all the wonderful poetry of my fellow online poets.
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