Words Much Like Poetry

Poetry, not just words, but a state of mind Are we aware of this self expression To paper through pen our thought we bind Are we just seeking to make an impression? Or letting loose our imagination ... Poetry, not just words, but a deep feeling Do we know that it comes from the heart? Carefully chosen words, rife with meaning Its important even before you start ... to let loose your imagination! Poetry, not just words, but a message Of what we want everyone to know creative words, whose meaning we envisage to the poets' mind we must go to merge yours with their imagination. Poetry, not just words, but life itself with a force to uplift and enlighten to give hope for others and yourself for the days you seek to brighten take your pen now, merge your heart and mind and bring forth your feelings and thoughts Remember, its not just words but POETRY!

I was only 7 years old, living with my grandmother when my neighbor's youngest daughter spoke to me first. This story is hilarious, amazing and then sad, I wish I could have had the chance to meet her for our third decade... young as I am radiating naivete due to my age I know I am a boy and that she is a girl I remember I wanted us to be friends and even closer than that I do not know what drives me to this only that it is what I want in a show of affection I push her -and she pushes back, stained with dirt and grandma breaks us up and it was then I got the definition grandma asks me to bathe get ready for the marriage, she says we will take care of the bride-price later after the girl and I marry I dash to the bathroom and bathe I am excited, do I really know why I am this elated? and I look at the starry eyed girl innocently unaware of the budding romance ten years later and I am a young man it would b...

A bit of musical distraction and inspiration.

"It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one's self through the eyes of others.... One ever feels his twoness, - an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder." ~ W.E.B. DuBois, The Souls of Black Folk , 1903

"Evolution made civilization steward of this planet. A hundred thousand years later, the steward stood before evolution not helper but destroyer, not healer but parasite. So evolution withdrew its gift, passed civilization by, rescued the planet from intelligence and handed it to love." ~ Richard Bach

This was my response to a story challenge put forth by Milton Davis . Find his group, Sword and Soul , on Black Science Fiction Society . Today, there is time enough for stillness. Time enough to rest the calloused soles of my conflict laden feet upon the bare tile. Time enough to look west, out over the nshya , to the distant marshes. They give rise to a mist this day that reaches humid tendrils across the sprawling farmlands which divide the palace from the swamps. Mist which brings with it echoes, remnants of the fallen warriors of my tribe, who beat with one hand the shields which rest against their hips, as if those plates of finely engraved bronze were ingoma , and brandish their spears in the other. As they move toward the palace, they each in turn call out their names, and the names of their fathers, and the names of their sons, and the count of their kills. And as each finishes his recitation, he then takes up the battle cry which we sing as we march out to face our w...

argent light shines down upon a grave dappled hill. death does not walk here, instead it sleeps; though upon rare occasions, when the earth’s satellite seeks reprieve behind billows of sky-bound veils, the Sandman’s sway knows a brief surcease, and phantasms conceived of Platonic philosophy, rise from their crypts. they displace nothing of earth, nor of air, these distorted perceptions, these false semblances who make claims upon continued existence... Image: Howard Pyle, Pirate Ghost , 1921