About Vickie M.
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
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
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PoetryThis 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
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Serenity BluesThe 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
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Manchild in a Poet's LandHe 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.
