About Vickie M.

Baltimore City
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 was 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

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

For she won’t take nothing for her journey now.

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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 a

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

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.