A Man's Promise by Zach Cobos

My sis had posted it on FaceBook and I found it had a powerful message and was beautifully executed.

A Man’s Promise from Christopher Beaudoin on Vimeo.

Untitled

I was sitting
On a bench
Facing a raging inferno.

It rolled mercilessly
Towards me, consuming
All in it's way
And I sat.

I waited
For it to consume me,
To eat me up,
Leaving nothing but
Charred remains.

It was a long journey
To this point and
My body was weary,
To walk another step
Was not an option.

I chose to rest here,
To die here, even
My will to live
Was exhausted and
Slept fitfully within.

It was beautiful,
the inferno, that is,
And as I was consumed,
My skin set on fire.
Instead of fear,
I felt hope.

I was consumed
And I felt nothing,
Pain did not reside here,
In it's place was energy.

As I felt everything
I am, everything
I was become consumed
And die, ceasing to
Be, I was reborn.

The tail end of
The inferno swept over me,
Silence reigned,
The land was still.

I shook of the cinders
Of who I was
And stood renewed
In my new skin.

I had survived
The one thing I feared
And learned the one lesson
It was created to teach.

The one thing I feared
Is the one thing
That will make me stronger,
That will make me anew,
That will set me free
From my fears.

MIA

Normally, I would post a poem every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, but this week I have been unable to do so. Part of the reason is my starting a new job and I have been in training since Monday. A lot of info and being in a new setting and just new things on a whole. The other part is I have been unable to write anything, poet's block. I think this is a result of the new job. Anyhooo, I am working to at least have a poem for Friday and to get back into posting my poems and promoting them.

Thanks for continuing to follow me and your patience and no I ain't dead. LOL!!

Sober

He wasn’t looking

To meet anyone

When he came to the bar.

He had planned

To drown his sorrows

In Whiskey and peanuts.

Instead he met her

And he listened

To her tale.

A tale,

He wished he had never heard,

He wished it was some

Liquor induced delusion.

And yet there she sat

With doe-like eyes

Tinged with innocence,

Regret and fear.

He wanted to protect her.

He want to never

See her scared,

Worried or any other emotion

That would alter

The tranquility of her face.

Instead he listened,

Knowing that that

Was all she wanted from him.

As her tale ended,

He could see her anxiety

Melt away like wax

Exposed to a flame.

She smiled at him weakly,

Then in one gulp,

She finished her drink.

On steady legs that

Spoke nothing of the amount

Of alcohol she consumed,

She stood and thanked him

For listening. Then she left.

He looked down

At his own drink,

He looked into

His own life.

Compared to her sorrows,

His were minnows

To her whales.

He finished his drink

Paid his bill

And left the bar

Sober.

Sober to the reality

That his life could

Be a whole lot worse,

He could have died

And not be missed

By anyone.

My Tired Heart

My heart grew tired

Of waiting, instead

It slipped into

The cool waters of

Nonchalance.

Before long, it

Had dived deeper

Into the depths

Of bitterness until

It knew nothing else

But that.

I feared that my heart

Had drowned,

Its lungs filled

With bitterness,

Completely breathless.

I had plunged in

After it,

Hoping to save it

From itself.

Was I too late?

I dragged its

Waterlogged corpse ashore.

I will not let it die.

Dying is for the weak.

Weak in body,

Weak in mind,

Weak in spirit,

And I refused to believe

That my heart was weak.

Tirelessly,

I fought to bring

The organ back to life,

Administrating all types

Of life saving techniques.

All the while,

I whispered to my heart.

"I love you,

But without you,

I can only love

Just so much."

"I need you

To love so much more.

I want my love

To be bigger than

The universe,

Richer than diamond

And platinum fields,

Sweeter than an ocean

Of honey sprinkled

With sugar.

I need you

To love again."

Just when I thought

All was lost,

All had slipped away

Like sand through my fingers,

I heard but a murmur.

I leaned forward

And listened.

My heart had heard me,

It heard my whispers

And responded softly.

"I love you, too,

And we shall love again!"


Submitted to dVerse Open Link

Love Is Easy To Find

Love is easy to find.

You can find it in a park

Under a sycamore tree.

You can find it in a supermarket

In the vegetable aisle.

You can find it in offices,

In classes,

On a bus or on a train,

On the street or

In a bar.

Love is easy to find, but

True love is not as easy.

It's not everyday that

You find that love

That promises to age well

Like fine wine and

Good cheese.

The kind of love

That breathes new life

Into your life and still

Takes your breath away.

That kind of love

That makes that person

The first person you call

When you are on top of the world,

The first person you call

When you wish

You were six feet under.

The kind of love that,

No matter how many times

You push that person away,

They will always come back,

Always be there for you.

The kind of love that

Guarantees a shoulder

To lean on,

An ear to listen,

A smile to encourage,

A hug when you need one.

The kind of love that,

No matter how much

Of the ugly you show,

They always find and

See the beauty in you.

The kind of love

Where you can't imagine,

Can not even phantom

Not having that person

In the story that is your life.

That love is not easy to find,

But if you find it,

Hold on to it gently

Like a butterfly.

Don't hold it too tight

That it feels strangled,

Constantly fighting to be free.

Don't hold it too loosely

That it can easily fly away,

Never to return.

Hold it gently

So that it grows

From something flighty

And superficial into

Something stable and strong.

And even if it manages

To fly away,

It will always come back.

Love is easy to find

But true love, real love

Is the one you keep.



Submitted to dVerse Open Link

Beauchamp - She Wanted A Love Poem

The following poem is from the section, "Secrets" of She Wanted A Love Poem, a collection of poems.

Beauchamp

Reverend Robert Alexander Beauchamp

Was the pastor of a little Baptist church

In a little town in Louisiana.

A tall man with a medium build

Who had a penchant for suits.

A black suit on Sundays

As he stood at the pulpit

And a seersucker affair

During the week when one

Would see him on Main Street

Going here or there.

Rev. Beauchamp was a respectable man,

A measured man,

A good man,
A good husband,

A good father,

One of the few pastors

Who actually lived

The life he preached about,

Or so the towns people thought.

Once a month,

On a weekend,

Rev. Beauchamp would be absent

From the little town

He had made his home.

Some folks speculated that

He was visiting family,

Attending a conference or

Visiting another church.

The truth was no one really knew

Where the good reverend went,

Not his congregation,

Not his good friends,

Not his children,

Not even his wife.

Once a month,

Rev. Robert Alexander Beauchamp

Disappeared and in his place

Was Bobby Beauchamp.

Once a month,

Bobby would follow the river

Down to a little town

In the bayou.

Once a month,

He would find himself

In the company of Mona Belle,

A woman the colour

Of a moonless night,

Who was as familiar to him

As he was to himself.

She would ask about

His wife and kids

And he would ask about

Her daughter,

His daughter,

Their daughter

Who knew him as Pa Bear.

In those few days,

Bobby felt at ease,

He felt at home.

In the little house

He had built,

He was not afraid

Of being himself.

The love he felt for Mona

Was not one of duty,

But something deeper,

Something real and tangible,

And he knew that

She loved him not

For his station in life,

In society, she loved him

Because he was Bobby Beauchamp.

As the years passed,

He spent more and more time

In the little house in the bayou,

Until one day, he never

Returned to the little town

Where he was the pastor.

He simply disappeared, and

As he was such an upstanding man,

The townsfolk suspected the worse,

A terrible accident

Had claimed the reverend's life.

There was a memorial service

And the family was left to grieve.

Soon time faded the memory

Of Reverend Beauchamp,

But every now and then,

His name would be mentioned.

Some cousin from another town

Thought they had seen him down river.

Someone else thought they saw him

At a college graduation, but

The only Beauchamp graduating

Was a black woman

By the name of Alexandria.

Rev. Robert Alexander Beauchamp

Had built the life

That was expected of him.

He had married a respectable woman,

He lived in a fine house

With a white picket fence,

He had three children

Who never fidgeted

As they sat in the first pew,

But the reverend was unhappy.

He was living the life

Others believed he should be living,

But the life he wanted

Included a black woman

Who loved him unconditionally

And a precocious girl

Who saw only goodness in him.

As he got older,

He realized that

It was better to live the life

You wanted than

Try to please everyone else.

So Rev. Robert Alexander Beauchamp died

So that Bobby Beauchamp may live,

So that he may love,

So that he may be the man

Bobby Beauchamp wanted to be.

To get your copy
of this collection
of poems,
click here.

Release

What?
Who?
Where?
Why?

Me?
You?
Us?
We are…..

Lost souls drifting
On the planes
Of our existences
And somehow,
In some way
We collided.

Was it fate?
Was it planned?
Was it to be?

Our magnetism
Stronger than
My logic,
Your situation,
My desires,
Your reality.

Although our gravities
Pulled us together,
Even though we found
Home in each others
Embrace, we must
Release.

Like a stoic warrior,
I walk away,
Chin in the air,
Stride, sure and strong,
But I dare not look back.

I dare not open
My heart, exposing it
To the shifting tides of
Emotions that promise
To overwhelm me,
To confuse me.

To leave me like
A child wanting to be
Held and never,
Ever be released.

I won't look back
Because there is no
You,
Us,
We,
Just me trying to find
Love.


Submitted to dVerse Open Link

Untitled

I smiled at him,
Not because he was
Attractive, breathtaking,
Intriguing, charming.
It was the genuine Rolex
That caught my interest.

This man, I told myself,
Will be my husband.
I will charm him
And delight him.
I will do things to him
That no woman his age
Would ever dare do,
And just like that
He will be mine.

What would it take?
Three months,
Six months before
He proposed to me
With a big rock from
Tiffanys that screams wealth,
That screams that
I am to be the madam
Of all his estates.

Oh, I could see
The hundreds of thousands
Of dollars sitting
In his bank accounts.
The rustle of Benjamins
Always makes my heart
Go pitter patter.

Momma always said that
To find a rich husband
Spend time in the bars
Of swanky hotels
And it seems like
Dear ole mama was right.

There was no better time
Than the present so
I drank the last of my cosmo
And took a nice lazy stroll
Across to my man
Ensuring he got a good look.

A good look at
My small waist,
My full hips
And my generous bosom
All brought to us
By God and
Dr. Jenkins.

Oh Lord!
Who was this sitting next
To my husband to be?
Oh I know that look.
Looks like Richy Rich
Is already taken,
So I moseyed on out
Of the swanky bar
In the swanky hotel
And into a cab.

The night is still young
And the bait is still fresh
So to another bar and
Hopefully to another big fish
For me to lure in
And catch.

Rebecca

I needed a phone.

My car had broken down
For the umpteenth time,
My cell phone battery had died
And I found myself
In a part of town
I've never stepped foot in.

I needed a phone
To call my boyfriend
To pick me up,
And in the morning,
I would call a tow truck
To deal with my car.

I made my way
Around the corner
To a dive bar
With the intention
Of going and
Getting out with the quickness.

When I stepped in
I realized that this
Was not your typical bar.
For one the only man present
Was the bartender
But a few of the patrons
Could pass for men.

As I stood by the bar,
Waiting for the bartender
To come my way,
A huge woman appeared.

She had more swagger
Than Kanye West
On a good day
And her rap was
No different from that
Of the guys on the corner.

In a curt, "don't mess with me" tone,
I informed her that
I was not interested,
I was straight,
I had a man.

She stepped into
My space,
My personal space,
My "you really in my space?" space,
My "I will knock your ass out!" space.

She continued to say
That she could do things
That no man can do
For a woman.

Clenching my fist,
I stepped back,
Saying "Excuse me"
Through gritted teeth.

I did an about turn
And made my way to the exit.
I was not about to start
A fight on foreign ground,
Not knowing my opponent
Or if she had backup.

As I stepped out,
I felt the cool night air
But became very aware
Of the warmth coming
From someone behind me.

She had followed me out.

Not wanting to continue
The "conversation",
I walked quickly to my car.

Just as I reached for
The door handle
She grabbed me.

She pinned me to the hood,
Using one hand,
She hiked up my skirt,
She ripped away my panties.

Roughly, she pried open my legs,
Then pinned them in place,
Leaving me immobile,
Then she went in.

Licking and sucking,
Dipping and nipping.
My body responded
Despite my protests,
My trying to strike her,
Hit her, scratch her
And without my permission,
An orgasm was ripped
Out of my body.

I laid there,
Thinking this was the extent
Of the violation,
Tears forming in my eyes
But I refused to let
Them fall.

Then I felt something
Push against my core.
I looked down
To see her impaling me
With a strap on,
A fake dick.

She drove into me
With no mercy,
And just when I thought
I would be ripped apart,
She found her release
And as a result,
My body was released.

I laid there
For a second or two
In a state of confusion.
What just happened here?

She removed the strap on
And fixed her clothes,
Her expression daring me to move,
My body was too used
For me to be able to fight.

She smiled at me,
"You liked that, didn't you?
I told you I can do things
A man could never do."

She extracted a card
From her back pocket
And tossed it at me.
"Call me if you want more."
Then she was gone.

I picked up the card,
The shock of what happened
Fading away.

Rebecca.
I was just raped
By a woman named
Rebecca.

What was I going to do?
How was I going
To tell my boyfriend?
What was I going
To tell the police?
How was I going
To tell them that
One of their own
Was raped by a woman
Named Rebecca?

I shimmied off the hood,
And pulled down my skirt,
My panties were nowhere
To be found, Rebecca
Most likely had them.

I paced back and forth,
My car was still broken down,
My cell phone battery was still dead,
I was just raped,
All the while I debated
What to do next.

Should I become
One of the many women
Who remain silent
With hopes that the memories
Fade away with the passing of time?

Or should I tell
My boyfriend, the police,
The doctors, the District Attorney,
The judge, the jurors,
The world that
I was raped?

I stopped pacing
And walked in the opposite direction
Of the bar.
I needed a phone.

I found a 24/7 corner store
Two blocks away,
I called my boyfriend and
I told him, then
I called 911 and
I told them.

A year later,
Rebecca stood at
The defense table,
The jury's verdict being read.
Guilty as charged.

She thought she would
Never be arrested.
What woman would admit
That she was raped
By a woman?

At the trial,
Evidence was presented,
My panties that the police
Had found on her. My DNA
On the strap on
They had found on her.

During the trial,
Other women came forth,
Their stories no different
From mine.
The last count was twenty.

Knowing her fate was sealed,
Rebecca confessed to all her rapes.
A total of thirty six,
Thirty five too many.

All it would have taken
Was one woman
To stand up,
To tell her story,
To take this monster
Off the street.

It's just sad that
It had to be me,
The thirty sixth, to do so.

It doesn't matter if it's
A woman or a man,
An adult or a child,
An uncle or an aunt,
A father or a mother,
A grandfather or a family friend,
Violence is violence,
Sexual assault is sexual assault.
Tell your story,
Someone will listen.


Submitted to dVerse & Jingle Poetry