Category Archives: Poetry

The secret of dying

I wasn’t there to kiss you our last goodbye
Instead I strained my sorrow through Egyptian cotton
I waited through your severe breathing
I waited for you to come back to me; but you slept
Deeper than my comforter
Colder than the frigid February Michigan air.
I tried to hold on to the warmth of your skin
I cheated and pressed my hand to your chilly cheek
You have left the breathing life but not mine

I treasure the Bread you gave me
I will not break it with anyone but your honor

I just need you

I don’t need roses on one day of a year.
I don’t require chocolates to compete with my peers.
When I wake in the morning from a good night of rest
Open my eyes to you whom loves me best
I know eternally from daybreak to next dawn
That it’s the little things that matter, the lyrics to our life song.
Please don’t spend money on trinkets and things
I don’t need a necklace or shiny diamond rings.
I just need your kisses, your hugs, and your arms
I just want to be with you embraced in your charms.
So please keep the chocolates and conversation hearts
Just keep walking with me, our love never part.

Moo-Vee Knight

WP_20150509_087

I wish I were Zuzu’s petals tucked neat within trouser pocket

Or I’d be the photo of Elise and Richard, kept within a locket

I’d sparkle ruby red like the Oz type pair of shoes

Or maybe be the spikey hair of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

I could change my name to Wilson, wouldn’t that be a ball?

Perhaps be a still life in carbon, hanging around on the wall

Oh, to be the infamous sorting hat, four houses I will place

Or to be the heavens of Hollywood, every dream made by a face

What I wouldn’t do to see the world from un-animated eyes

to gain a differed perspective, be unlimited in my disguise

 

A Real Boy

Oak

I want to be a real boy, I don’t want to be a stump

My joints articulating better than my knotty lump

My heart a pumping sap filled core,

with arms outstretched to shelter more

I wait for the carver to create me anew

From my snazzy top hat to my hard wooden shoes.

Direct me, show me, guide life to this oak

Allow me a life, my leaves are all spoke.

Queen in Passing

grave

Solemnity spoke

The night I prayed would never come

has whispered hallowed night

a reclamation of eternal earth

the kiss of chilled winds blight

The hands I loved have now succumbed

The fiery pyre take flesh from sight

a resolution to embrace rebirth

your angelic spirit take flight

Cost of Living

Candle of Hope

How much am I worth to you?

Another theater, another school?

Another place where people gather

Out in public, or doesn’t it matter?

How much can I pay you for

your children’s blood on classroom floors?

How much is the fiance’ worth

if she’s wedding before the baby’s birth?

Tell me, because I don’t want your guns

you can keep them, I’m wanting none.

If you collect or if you hunt

I have no interest in killing your fun.

But any sane person should agree

that these “daily” mass killings are a spree

With romanticized violence the law of the land,

as responsible owners, please take a stand.

Show them what it means to be smart

Give us something, someplace to start

 

I don’t want to be afraid to go to the store

become another pawn in this domestic war

If it happens to one it’s a tragedy

but if it happens to more, a statistic you’ll be

Terrorism doesn’t have the brown skin like we’re told

It’s the murderer’s body count, sin chillingly cold.

These Are My People: Linda Looney

Linda and Mare

A relationship between a mother and daughter

is far more complicated than it oughter

be, with wrecks and disasters no happily ever after

as one struggles to hold on, the other to be free.

But if you ask them, one on one how they feel,

you’ll hear nothing but the true theist spiel

of love and emotion, undying devotion

between mother and child, where nothing is mild

when familial blood runs rivers through reconciled

years washed pure in the hopeful heart referred

“Glad to be of help.” the moniker tenured

Ben

What hands have held my face, to stare into my soul?

What lips have breathed a lifetime of my kisses stole?

What voice has whispered me my truth, my secrets sealed untold?

What arms have held me in a haven, my broken heart consoled?

What legs have walked a million miles to cross my sacred threshold?

What heart has answered the siren’s song our bindings to behold?

What worth is placed on eternal devotion, more valuable than gold?

What gifts be given to thine own true love, from youthful glow to old?

Moon Mother

Of our spirit comes forth a light that cannot be denied

A token of our birthright, our power her wedded bride

Raise our hands up to the moon to draw her down to see

Sing in sky-clad voices, to the tune played three times three

Hark! Hail! We greet you with our bodies meet your night

Hark! Hail! We honor you with this our hearth-fire light.

Hark! Hail! We beckon you to join our ecstasy

Hark! Hail! We dance for you, dear Mother, Blessed Be!

Setting down the son

I wanted to love you beyond reason

to tuck you under warm blankets

inhale the scent of your freshly bathed skin

pressing my lips to your cool forehead

stroking your hair back from your face

so I could memorize it until dawn.

I wanted to embrace you with hugs

to protect you from the angry, vengeful world

to be your advocate for justice until you spoke

your first words in defense of your right to exist

that I could offer you a vocabulary for peace

that would last throughout your lifetime

I wanted family intimacy to gestate organically

with inside jokes created with one another

stories built upon our common history

beliefs based on a mutual understanding

goals set and met together in blood-line unity

Cherished memories transmogrified into legends

BUT

I stand here holding a bin full of dusty artifacts

every imagining I’d dreamed about abandoned

discarded into a tornadic swipe of desolation

Emptied of sacredness into the seasonal winds

My love, hugs, and hope for a family with you

have perished due to your intentional self-destruction

I mourn for you as if you had passed the veil

I see evidence of you in portraits lying happily

with smiles that don’t eat your eyes with joy

except for mine which shine with implicit trust

passionate encouragement radiates towards you

so brightly that you cringed away, scalded by love

that didn’t hurt but should have flayed your skin

because that’s what you were taught by my blood

I wish you peace.

I wish you love.

I wish you happiness.

I wish you a life worth living.

I wish you to know that I’d do it all again.