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Vickie M.'s Curated Collection

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Poetry

This thing we call poetry
Sheds light on the dark places in life
Like a lamp in the darkest of night
Soothes souls to the cores
And eases emotions
While expressing the I in me
Or the I in individuality

This thing we call poetry
Is flowers opening in the spring
Spreading color and fragrance all around
Making life appear to be as perfect as a picture

This thing we call poetry
Sounds like your favorite song playing on the radio
Bringing back those memories of a long ago
Or a bird chirping in the crispness of the morning air
As it hunts for worms to devour

This thing we call poetry
Gives way to fears, frustrations, depressions and the like
In order to create joy, excitement
and a peace that chaos does not understand

This thing we call poetry
Guides us through uncharted territory
Like Lewis and Clark on an expedition
And it feels like a good cup of hot chocolate on the coldest winter?s day

This thing we call poetry
Takes that which is straight
And gives it curves
That add flavor to all there is

This thing we call poetry
Oh, long may its banner wave

Serenity Blues

The lady sang the blues
As she spoke of strange fruit
Plucked by crows and blowing in the wind

As God blessed this child
With a melancholy sensation
But the evils of her life constantly chased her,
Trying to outrun
If only to torment her
And ultimately overtake her.

And so she took flight
While seeking the serenity of her lover man
And sailing through white clouds of dust
Inhaling line after line of life
While riding that white horse
As her troubles poured forth
From the depths of her agony.

And so she crooned out the demons of her life.
The lady sang the blues
Loud and long
As rays of sun shone
Through dark rain clouds
Hanging over her head
Energizing the masses
With her sultry voice
As their worlds connected
Through song Through time
If only for a short span

And her mind and soul soared
To an ethereal state of being
Giving her a much needed warmth
From the cold blast
That caused her to shiver and shake
And the gardenias in her life to wither
Once again.

Yes, Lady Day really sang.

An Ode to Maya

She knows why the caged bird sings,
But still she rises
As this phenomenal woman
Writes about her life of struggle and survival
From a Black woman to a Black man
And from Mom and me and Mom.
A life, from which she rises to be so richly blessed that
That even the stars look lonesome
As they gather together in her name.
Like a bird, she rises on the pulse of the morning,
But she shall not be moved
As she triumphantly endures everything her life has to offer.
So just give her a cool drink of water
And allow her to be singin’ and swingin’ and getting merry like Christmas,
For she has the heart of a woman
Who has a song flung up to Heaven
And prays that her wings are gonna fit her well
As she shouts Hallelujah at the Welcome Table.
For this is Maya’s world, but life does not frighten or deter her
'Cause she won’t take nothing for her journey now.

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