Poetry Corner

[His Glory 25]

Hi guys i am in a really weird kinda reflective mood and I just read another's poem that was sent to her and I love it and wanted to share something I wrote when I first heard my husband's story why he left Ghana for a time. Im not a writer or poet and Im not trying to sell it So those who are really good at that kind of stuff dont judge me harshly But I figured for those that love poetry and writing they can showcase their stuff or post their favorite piece, whether its a short story or poem. Im more of a reader so I would love to see some of your stuff.

The Ghanaian Son

A Mother's Plea

What shall I do about my breaking heart /my favored Ghanaian son will soon depart.

My boy, dont be angry with me or feel resentment /but the glint of another's gold blinds you so you cant feel contentment.

Can a foreign mother love you as her own cherished child?/ Will she be proud that you grew to be peaceful and mild?

What have you to say to me, my beloved son?/ I yearn words of consolement before you do run.

A son's Reply:

Dear Mother Ghana I love you, dont cry/ but greener pastures call me and my fortune I'll try.

I've loved you from first breath and I will to my last/but there is a world to be seen and life passes so fast.

Wherever I go I will hold you so dear/ and I'll teach my children of you so never you fear.

I will tell them of your beauty and will teach them your tongue /they will know of their Grandmother from when they are young.

A Mother's Reply

I am pleased with your words of comfort and love/ and I know that you're protected by the great God above.

So, although when you leave my eyes will be burning/ I'll pray that you get what your heart is now yearning.

As long as your Mother Ghana, you never forget/there will not come a time when you will regret.

If you remember where you came from / and in mind do not leave it/ then you will take Ghana with you, in heart and in spirit.

[sweet_peach 0]

I thank God he sent you to me,

For you and I were meant to be.

We have a bond too strong to break,

We have a love no one can take.

In you, I have found a love so true,

My heart is filled with love for you.

Every time I see you, my heart skips a beat,

You make my life whole, you make my life complete.

My love for you grows more with each passing day,

The thought of your gorgeous face takes my breath away:

Those brown eyes fill my soul with happiness,

Those luscious lips I love to kiss.

The day when I become your wife,

Will be the happiest day of my life.

Even thinking of that day makes me smile,

I can't wait 'till I walk down that aisle.

I dream of that day when we'll both say, "I do"

For always and forever... I will love you

[His Glory 25]

I thank God he sent you to me,

For you and I were meant to be.

We have a bond too strong to break,

We have a love no one can take.

In you, I have found a love so true,

My heart is filled with love for you.

Every time I see you, my heart skips a beat,

You make my life whole, you make my life complete.

My love for you grows more with each passing day,

The thought of your gorgeous face takes my breath away:

Those brown eyes fill my soul with happiness,

Those luscious lips I love to kiss.

The day when I become your wife,

Will be the happiest day of my life.

Even thinking of that day makes me smile,

I can't wait 'till I walk down that aisle.

I dream of that day when we'll both say, "I do"

For always and forever... I will love you

Thank you for sharing Sweet peach. I love the part about having a love no one can take It is a fight sometimes

[onwa 6]

Beautiful poems. Here's one of my favorites I've written.

I sit at the grave of my grandma.

Kalani Kekoanui Esther Patterson.

My own granddaughter is with me,

her red hair dancing with the sun,

causing the memories to come.

Sunlight softens hard lines, life

on my grandma's dark weathered skin.

I wish my freckles would blend.

Grandma Esther sings

"Meleana E."

We are planting corn.

The earth yields to my grandma,

just as the forest trusts her

with a limping raccoon,

a bluejay with a broken wing.

Once, she stood in the clean, swept kitchen,

reading a letter from Hawaii.

Her mom had died last winter:

It was Spring.

She raised her apron to cover her face

and turned away.

That night in the garden I saw her

uprooting a strange, dense plant.

She cut the roots and

pounded them,

smashed them,

squeezed them till they bled.

She mixed the juice

with water,

with her tears.

Drinking the muddy liquid,

she saw the question in my eyes

and told me this story.

"In my village

there was one bruddah and one sistah.

They born da same time and get da same soul.

But they no mo'maddah or faddah.

Bruddah only get sistah.

And sistah only get bruddah.

One day sistah make, she wen die.

Bruddah wen bury her.

He so sad. He no mo' nobody.

He go her grave everyday and he stay cry.

Six full moons come and

all kine plants grow.

One day bruddah saw one rat.

Da rat ate da roots of one plant, one wit da leaves

like dis (grandma draws a heart in the air)

And da rat die, da boy fink.

So da boy say

'Dis plant grow from my sistah

and my sistah want me be wit her."

So bruddah ate da roots and his mouth all tingle,

his muscles all relax.

He fink he go'n die and be wit sistah.

But he no die, not even da rat.

So he go away and come back next day

and eat some mo' roots.

His mouth come numb again

And dis time his heart no hurt no mo'.

His mine come clear and he remembah.

He remembah his sistah and he stay all happy.

He den go back to da loi

and work again, and live again.

And he see dat dis plant grow from his sistah,

not so he can die, but so dat his heart no soa no mo'

at least for small time.

Scattered on my grandma's grave are

bracken fern, white trillium, purple foxglove,

a lone 'awa plant.

This tropical plant shouldn't grow here unaided

in the cold Pacific Northwest.

But this plant grows from my grandma.

It holds her stories, told and untold,

of a hard life, an island left

for a strange, cold place.

I dig some of the roofs and chew.

and tell my granddaughter a story.

[ForeverAmen 0]

Wow! Talk about talent! These are all beautiful. We may be on our way to publishing a VJ book of short story and poems.

[Simply_Uno 1]

I want to post some of my poetry, but because I'm sensuous in nature, I don't want to get some one riled up and there SO's are not around to put out the flames. So, continue with the beautiful poetry. I'm reading and enjoying.

[His Glory 25]

Beautiful poems. Here's one of my favorites I've written.

I sit at the grave of my grandma.

Kalani Kekoanui Esther Patterson.

My own granddaughter is with me,

her red hair dancing with the sun,

causing the memories to come.

Sunlight softens hard lines, life

on my grandma's dark weathered skin.

I wish my freckles would blend.

Grandma Esther sings

"Meleana E."

We are planting corn.

The earth yields to my grandma,

just as the forest trusts her

with a limping raccoon,

a bluejay with a broken wing.

Once, she stood in the clean, swept kitchen,

reading a letter from Hawaii.

Her mom had died last winter:

It was Spring.

She raised her apron to cover her face

and turned away.

That night in the garden I saw her

uprooting a strange, dense plant.

She cut the roots and

pounded them,

smashed them,

squeezed them till they bled.

She mixed the juice

with water,

with her tears.

Drinking the muddy liquid,

she saw the question in my eyes

and told me this story.

"In my village

there was one bruddah and one sistah.

They born da same time and get da same soul.

But they no mo'maddah or faddah.

Bruddah only get sistah.

And sistah only get bruddah.

One day sistah make, she wen die.

Bruddah wen bury her.

He so sad. He no mo' nobody.

He go her grave everyday and he stay cry.

Six full moons come and

all kine plants grow.

One day bruddah saw one rat.

Da rat ate da roots of one plant, one wit da leaves

like dis (grandma draws a heart in the air)

And da rat die, da boy fink.

So da boy say

'Dis plant grow from my sistah

and my sistah want me be wit her."

So bruddah ate da roots and his mouth all tingle,

his muscles all relax.

He fink he go'n die and be wit sistah.

But he no die, not even da rat.

So he go away and come back next day

and eat some mo' roots.

His mouth come numb again

And dis time his heart no hurt no mo'.

His mine come clear and he remembah.

He remembah his sistah and he stay all happy.

He den go back to da loi

and work again, and live again.

And he see dat dis plant grow from his sistah,

not so he can die, but so dat his heart no soa no mo'

at least for small time.

Scattered on my grandma's grave are

bracken fern, white trillium, purple foxglove,

a lone 'awa plant.

This tropical plant shouldn't grow here unaided

in the cold Pacific Northwest.

But this plant grows from my grandma.

It holds her stories, told and untold,

of a hard life, an island left

for a strange, cold place.

I dig some of the roofs and chew.

and tell my granddaughter a story.

That was so beautiful! You took me there onwa. Thank you, your poem truly touched me. Your words are so desciptive and inspire me. Thank you.

Uno, post one of your tamer rated PG poems I would love to read some.

[Simply_Uno 1]

Beautiful poems. Here's one of my favorites I've written.

I sit at the grave of my grandma.

Kalani Kekoanui Esther Patterson.

My own granddaughter is with me,

her red hair dancing with the sun,

causing the memories to come.

Sunlight softens hard lines, life

on my grandma's dark weathered skin.

I wish my freckles would blend.

Grandma Esther sings

"Meleana E."

We are planting corn.

The earth yields to my grandma,

just as the forest trusts her

with a limping raccoon,

a bluejay with a broken wing.

Once, she stood in the clean, swept kitchen,

reading a letter from Hawaii.

Her mom had died last winter:

It was Spring.

She raised her apron to cover her face

and turned away.

That night in the garden I saw her

uprooting a strange, dense plant.

She cut the roots and

pounded them,

smashed them,

squeezed them till they bled.

She mixed the juice

with water,

with her tears.

Drinking the muddy liquid,

she saw the question in my eyes

and told me this story.

"In my village

there was one bruddah and one sistah.

They born da same time and get da same soul.

But they no mo'maddah or faddah.

Bruddah only get sistah.

And sistah only get bruddah.

One day sistah make, she wen die.

Bruddah wen bury her.

He so sad. He no mo' nobody.

He go her grave everyday and he stay cry.

Six full moons come and

all kine plants grow.

One day bruddah saw one rat.

Da rat ate da roots of one plant, one wit da leaves

like dis (grandma draws a heart in the air)

And da rat die, da boy fink.

So da boy say

'Dis plant grow from my sistah

and my sistah want me be wit her."

So bruddah ate da roots and his mouth all tingle,

his muscles all relax.

He fink he go'n die and be wit sistah.

But he no die, not even da rat.

So he go away and come back next day

and eat some mo' roots.

His mouth come numb again

And dis time his heart no hurt no mo'.

His mine come clear and he remembah.

He remembah his sistah and he stay all happy.

He den go back to da loi

and work again, and live again.

And he see dat dis plant grow from his sistah,

not so he can die, but so dat his heart no soa no mo'

at least for small time.

Scattered on my grandma's grave are

bracken fern, white trillium, purple foxglove,

a lone 'awa plant.

This tropical plant shouldn't grow here unaided

in the cold Pacific Northwest.

But this plant grows from my grandma.

It holds her stories, told and untold,

of a hard life, an island left

for a strange, cold place.

I dig some of the roofs and chew.

and tell my granddaughter a story.

That was so beautiful! You took me there onwa. Thank you, your poem truly touched me. Your words are so desciptive and inspire me. Thank you.

Uno, post one of your tamer rated PG poems I would love to read some.

gimme until the weekend and I'll post one .

(Efia, I had to laugh)

[ForeverAmen 0]

I want to post some of my poetry, but because I'm sensuous in nature, I don't want to get some one riled up and there SO's are not around to put out the flames. So, continue with the beautiful poetry. I'm reading and enjoying.

Go for it Uno .....

[Simply_Uno 1]

this is one of my tamer poems, I hope I don't violate TOS!!! (*shhh* denotes whispering)

I can't breath...mmmm

You can't sleep.....hmmm

to...ge---ther....baaabe

(its "too" heat)

you feel my bones *shhh* ache

I see you jonnnzzzing

*its all for me*

separated.....we are none

you plus me....that equals ONE

*oooh-weee baby*

I got chillz...ohh

You've got thrillz *shhh* give it all to me

place your hand....between my thighs

mmmm-hmmm *thats it*

run my fingers.....down your spine

its a must....everytime you thrust

feeeeel....me vibrate, its almost time

SEXPLODING...bodies entwined

I am your honey....you are my bee *shhh*buzzz

I'm your drug....you fein for me

I'm overdosing....you thirst for me

You can't sleep....mmmm

I can't breath....mmmm

Damn, LUST!!!

[We_Destiny 1]

Uno you a hot mess gal

this ain't PG13

"its too heat" ahhh "plenty, plenty heat"

[His Glory 25]

:::fanning self::: oh my! Im glad I will be seeing my baby soon. Tamer, huh? haha thank you. That was an experience.

[Simply_Uno 1]

:::fanning self::: oh my! Im glad I will be seeing my baby soon. Tamer, huh? haha thank you. That was an experience.

yes, that was one of my tamer poems. I tried to "uummm"... make it light

that was inspired by the "clean up man" and since y'all don't know, I am getting a DIVORCE!

and please, no sympathy is needed. he was acting a fool a long time ago, and I prayed on it and the more I prayed, the more of a fool he became.

so his a$$ is stuck like chuck and Uno don't giv' ah phuq!

[Zee Bee 61]

Uno, you got skillz girl!

[Bassi and Zainab 1]

yes, that was one of my tamer poems. I tried to "uummm"... make it light

that was inspired by the "clean up man" and since y'all don't know, I am getting a DIVORCE!

and please, no sympathy is needed. he was acting a fool a long time ago, and I prayed on it and the more I prayed, the more of a fool he became.

so his a$$ is stuck like chuck and Uno don't giv' ah phuq!

I know you'll stay strong. I'm sure you've thought through your decision and made one that's right for you and your babies. Stay positive and good luck with everything still to come for you.