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About Vickie M.

Baltimore City

Vickie M. Oliver-Lawson's picture
Vickie M. Oliver-Lawson is a retired public school administrator, wife, mother, poet and author. She has self-published five books, two of which are children's books. She is a graduate of Morgan State and Loyola Universities. She is a member of the National Association of Negro Business and Professional Women's Clubs, Inc. and the International Society of Poets. She is listed among Who's Who in the East and Who's Who Among Professional and Business Women.

CONTEMPORARY VIXEN

She entered the room and commanded everyone's attention
There was no deference to race, creed, ethnicity or wealth
She moved with a swiftness that left people breathless
At least those who came into her presence.

Men and women both felt the fever
As some tried to maintain a safe distance
From the effect she gave
While others wanted to see her up close.

She touched each life and continued on her sashaying journey
Moving with the speed of a cheetah
She pounced upon her unsuspecting prey
And some never even knew what hit them.

She shut things down in her wake
While leaving everything in her path vulnerable
As others tried to shield themselves from her rainstorm
But her silent attack captured them anyway

She left her victims weak and wanting relief from her fierceness
She took over, leaving those in charge virtually helpless
As they debated how to handle her quiet fury
Once she left, the world, as they knew it, would never be the same.

She did not care who was impacted by her intensity
Her name, her name, her name is CORONAVIRUS.

AN ODE TO MAYA

A tribute, of sorts, to the poet Maya Angelou

POETRY

A piece about poetry and its impact

  • 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

    Microsoft Office document icon Poetry

SERENITY BLUES

A tribute to Billie Holliday

  • 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.

    Microsoft Office document icon Serenity Blues

MANCHILD IN A POET'S LAND

He paints his world upon a tablet
As colorful metaphors mix
With the harshness of reality
Causing the furrowed expression upon his brow.

He paints his world upon a tablet
As images of a violent world
Invade his background, middle ground and foreground
Leaving him with a bitter taste between the lines of life.

He paints his world upon a tablet
As the brushstrokes from his pen to the paper
Open the door to his heart
And his private life is left exposed for all to see.

He paints his world upon a tablet
And uses the poetic word to demonstrate
The depth of his need to be understood
And SHE, SHE, SHE?reaches out to comprehend.

  • Manchild in a Poet's Land

    He paints his world upon a tablet
    As colorful metaphors mix
    With the harshness of reality
    Causing the furrowed expression upon his brow.

    He paints his world upon a tablet
    As images of a violent world
    Invade his background, middle ground and foreground
    Leaving him with a bitter taste between the lines of life.

    He paints his world upon a tablet
    As the brushstrokes from his pen to the paper
    Open the door to his heart
    And his private life is left exposed for all to see.

    He paints his world upon a tablet
    And uses the poetic word to demonstrate
    The depth of his need to be understood
    And SHE, SHE, SHE, reaches out to comprehend.

    Microsoft Office document icon Manchild in a Poet's Land

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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.