A Drop of Coffee

I spilled coffee
In my bath.

I watched as the
Brown-black liquid
Dissolved into nothing.

I wanted to
Laugh, I wanted
To cry as I
Could not identify
The emotion I
Felt from this
Liquid epiphany.

One drop of blood
Determined a man's
Race, yet one, even
Two, drops of coffee
Did not make my
Bath water fit for
Consumption.

A beat or two later,
Laughter did tumble
Up and out of my
Lips.

Then again,
Blood is thicker
Than water,
And the blood,
So recently removed from
The land from which all
Humanity emerged,
Is powerful stuff.

Powerful enough
To make one drop
Sufficient for a race
To claim a man
And determine his destiny.

A destiny where he
Is judged by the acts
Of his peers
Rather than the
Strength and diversity
Of his character.

A destiny where
Limitations are placed
On him by those
Inside and outside
Of his society.

A destiny where
He has to be
Extraordinary to be
Equal to another
Race's Ordinary.

I looked down
At the spot
Where the coffee
Fell, my raucous
Laughter fading
Into a chuckle.

I took a sip
Of my coffee.
Strong coffee
Always brought
Heavy thoughts.


Image Credit: FWallpapers

Lost In The Smoke

source

 
A half smoked spliff
Hanging from dark lips,
Thick dreads falling
Over half cast eyes
That seem to see everything
And nothing.


I found him like this,
Leaning on the base of
The tallest coconut tree,
His toes buried in the sand.

Even though he acknowledged
My presence, his attention
Was focused at the sea.

"Wha yuh want, breth'ren?"
Smoke and words expelled
From his lips.

Mama had told me
To look for the Rasta man
When I told her that
I discovered my wife,
My Angela, was cheating.

"Yuh love she?"
More words,
More smoke.

She was my childhood sweetheart,
She was my wife,
She was the mother of my children.

"Nuh bother with that,"
He waved his hands as
Though he was brushing away smoke,
"You love the woman or what?"

I looked out at the sea,
I used to have an answer,
It used to be simple,
All I had to say was "yes",
But I couldn't.

"Dere's yuh answer,
Dere's the answer to de question
Yuh shoulda been asking me."

I looked down at him
To see him looking up at me,
His eyes sharp and alert
Through the haze of smoke.

I loved her
But not in the way
He was alluding to.

We grew together like
Two coconut trees beside
Each other, but never did
Our branches intertwine.

"A woman needs to be loved,
Breth'ren. Love her in
De touch of yuh hand,
De words yuh speak,
De look in yuh eye.
If you can't love her
Den let she go,
Let she find somone
Who will love she right."

I couldn't let her go,
She was my wife,
The mother of my children.

"My, my, my,
What 'bout she?
Ain't she somebody, too?
Wasn't she somebody before
Yuh come 'pon de scene?"
His attention returned to the sea.

"De problem is yuh pride.
It ain't the fact that
She find somebody to love,
It's the fact that
She walk 'way from yuh.
Dat is what mek yuh
Come see me," he flicked
The remains of the spliff away.

He pulled another spliff
From his shirt pocket
And lit it.
For a moment we were
Lost in the smoke.

"Yuh nuh love she,
And she nuh love yuh,
Better yuh go yuh ways
And find people yuh will really love,"
The Rasta man said at last.

Love was not important
And what of my children,
The needed their parents together.

"Breth'ren, love is everyt'ing.
As for yuh chil'ren,
What good are parents
Who nuh love one another?
How dem chil'ren suppose to know
How to love somebody if
Dey never see them parents
Loving one another?"

Once again,
We were lost in the smoke.
The angle of the sun changed
Casting the shadows of the tree
Upon us.

"Look here, breth'ren,
It's obvious yuh nuh ready for
What I been telling yuh,
The wound fresh and
The sting nuh wear off.
It's best yuh be on yuh own,
T'ink 'pon t'ings,
T'ink 'pon what me say.
When the time come,
Yuh will know what to do."

I hoped so,
I looked out to the sea,
The cool breeze licking
The sweat from my brow,
Blowing the smoke away.

When I looked back,
He was gone, even
The spent spliff was gone.

As I sat down
Where the Rasta man sat,
I wondered where he went,
How he went.

Did he walk away?
Did he climb up the tree?
Or did he blow away
Like the smoke in the breeze?

Whatever the manner of his exit,
He had given me a space
To think about the future,
Our future, my future.

A future without the wife
I didn't love.


Submitted to imaginary garden with real toads and dVerse Poets

In Peace

source

"Sit with me," she said.
I looked down
To see a frail woman
Of advancing years
Sitting in a wheelchair.

Instead of sadness,
I saw joy in her eyes
That seem to twinkle
Like a reluctant star
In the morning sky.

Being from the kind
Of fold who heeded
The words of their elders,
I say beside her
Upon a rickety bench.

"Now tell me, " she began,
What is ailing you so much
That wrinkles appear between
Your eyes with the ease
Of a baby smiling at it's mama?"

An expression of shock
Must have flashed across my face
Because she just smiled
And patted my knee.
"Tell me, sugar," her voice like honey.

It was as though
I was waiting all my life
For this question, the words,
My words surged forward
Like a great wave.

When I was done,
The last of these words
Trickling out of my mouth,
I felt a measure of peace,
A weight removed.

"Now, see here," she began,
A serious expression on  her face,
"All you just said remains here
With me. You are not leaving
This place with them."

"Instead I want you to leave here
With that blossom of peace
You feel in your chest.
I want you to focus on it,
Water it until it fills up your life.

I started to speak
But she held up her hand,
"Nuh-uh, not a word,
You said your piece,
Now go in peace."

I got to my feet,
Lighter and happier,
I leaned over
And kissed her cheek,
My way of thanking her.

And I did what she instructed
I went in peace.


Submitted to imaginary garden with real toads and dVerse Poets

Untitled

source

I never thought
Of myself as
Alone.

I never thought
Of myself
Requiring another
To define me,
To convince me
That what other's
Thought of me
Was important.

I never understood
The word
Lonely.

In a world so
Full of life,
The fact that
I was not in
The presence of
Another human
Being human,
Did not make
Me feel this
Word.

I am not lonely.
I am not alone.
I am at peace.

Willing To Love

The train drew closer
And I waited patiently
For her. It had been
Four months, twelve days,
Seven hours and 15 minutes
Since I last saw her.

Her letter said she
Was coming for good,
That she was looking
Forward to moving to
The little Spanish city
That was my home.

The train emptied out
And between families
And lovers reuniting,
I waited patiently
For her. I waited
Till the little station
Was almost empty.

Then I felt a tap
On my shoulder, I
Turned around to find
The train's conductor,
A letter in his hand,
A mix of sadness and
Pity in his eyes.

He didn't speak,
I didn't speak,
The letter left his hand
Coming into mine.

He walked away,
His mission complete,
A weight, a burden
Now gone, soon to
Be forgotten.

Alas, this weight, this burden
Was now mine,
I walked across to a bench.
As I sat, I opened the letter.

Words swam in and out of
My vision, in and out of
My understanding like
Fish escaping the water
Attempting to fly.

I had read the letter
Once, then twice,
It was only on the third
Reading that I truly
Understood.

In a daze, I walked
Through the city, the
Vibrant colours I had
Come to know had bled away.

I walked to a my neighbourhood,
But passed my abode,
Making my way to the bar
Down the street from it.

I parked myself on
A stool and asked
The bartender, a friend
Of mine, for something hard,
Something to dull the edges.

He didn't ask,
I didn't tell.

Between mid-afternoon
And midnight, I drank
To forget, I drank
To dull the pain, I drank
Till the bartender, the friend
Refused to serve another
Glass of slow death.

Instead at two past
The witching hour,
He delivered me to my home,
Placing me on the bed,
Water on the bedside table
And a bucket on the floor.

She never came, instead
Pain was my companion
During the months that followed.

Eventually it eased from
Sharp to dull like
A butcher's old knife.
Then it became an ache
That returned only when
I remembered.

I stared to forget
Thanks to Maria, and
Maria became Isabella,
Isabella became Bianca,
Bianca became Carmen.

As Carmen slept in
My bed, I returned to
The letter for the first time
In a long time.

In the letter,
She said she loved me
But she was scared,
She didn't have the
Wherewithal to jump, to
Take a chance on
The fickle emotion
Called love.

For the first time ever,
I didn't feel sad,
I felt angry, and in
That anger, I tore the
Letter up, offering the
Pieces to the flames
On my stove top.

I returned to my bedroom,
Stopping at the doorway,
Watching the woman sleeping
In my bed, the woman
Willing to take a chance
On love.

Her eyes opened and on
Seeing me, a lazy smile
Spread across her face,
"Vienes aqui, mi amor,"
Reaching her hand out to me.

I went to her,
Wrapping myself around her.

The pain was gone,
The anger was gone,
Love for some one who
Loved me replaced it all.


Submitted to imaginary garden with real toads and dVerse Poets

Willard

Willard.
Willard was his name.
Not William.
Not Willy,
Nor Will or Bill,
But Willard.

Willard stood 6ft tall,
Maybe more but
I never had a
Measuring tape around
When he came by
The farmhouse that
Pa built.

In those times,
They called it courting,
I called it sniffing around,
But Ma and Pa liked it
As every time Willard came by
He would bring news
For Ma's ear or
An extra hand for Pa.

As for me, he would
Bring wild flowers.
A whole mess of them,
Ma would have me smile
And put them in a pretty
Vase bought specially for them.

I didn't like Willard,
But I didn't hate him
Either. He was like
A stranger you saw
Often enough that
You end up liking them.

First, I like the way
He laughed nervously when
I told a blue joke.
Then the way his sandy hair
Would catch the last rays
Of summer sun.

I liked the freckles
That came out in May
And said goodbye
When the harvest moon
Said hello.

I liked his smile,
Not the nervous one,
Or the polite one,
I liked the one that
Was full of mischievous
That mirrored mine at times.

Or the one that
Could only be described
As proud when I told
Mary Sue, that little know it all,
Where to put her
Pretty, little nose.

When a summer turned
Into a year and
A year into two,
When puberty brought
New surprises and emotions,
Willard was there.

When Pa got sick
And Ma became Ma,
Pa and Pa's nurse,
Leaving me to fend for myself,
Willard was there.

Then Willard was gone
For a spell or two
And I felt a sadness
I never knew could exist
Leaving me listless and cagey.

Then he came back and
I swear, though Ma said
Not to, it was like
The sun came out from
Behind the clouds.

When he came back,
He took me down by
The river where the big
Oak tree stands
And out of his pocket
Came a ring.

I said yes before
He could ask the question.
Yes, I love him,
Yes, I will marry him,
Yes, I will live with him
In sunshine and rain.

Willard is his name.
Not William,
Not Willy,
Not Will or Bill
But Willard,
The man I love.


Submitted to Poets United's Poetry Pantry

Wonder Land

source

 

The land was
A mix of wintery
Wonder land and
Desolate patch of
Hinterland.

I watched it pass
By as I rode on
A bus to somewhere
Else.

I touched the window,
Marveling at the
Coolness but happy
With not having to
Face it yet.

"Where you headed?"
The old lady sitting
Across the aisle asked,
Either making conversation
Or giving into her curiosity.

"Nowhere in particular,
Anywhere that is not
Where I was," I answered.

"Then how do you know
When you reach where
You going?" she asked.

"I figure I will just know,
Right here," I patted the
Place over my heart.
"I will just know."

She nodded her head
Then returned her attention
To the novel she was reading.
Her curiosity sated.

I didn't tell her the whole
Truth. I didn't tell the
Old woman that I was
Headed for a warm place
Where I can rest my head
And dream of you no more.

A place where we dreamt
Of going, but never did.
In the end, I was the only
One going because you
Chose a different type
Of life, a different type of
Woman.

I was headed to a place
Where I could let the
Memories of you fade
Like old pictures in
An album I stopped
Flipping through.

Then again,
I have a feeling she,
The old lady, already
Knew the truth. She
Was too polite to ask
For it.

I looked out of
The window, watching
The desolate, wintery
Wonderland pass by.



Submitted to imaginary garden with real toads and dVerse Poets

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Untitled

source




"Ricky called,"
Jasmine was leaning
In the doorway
To my bedroom,
Thumbing through a magazine.

"That's nice," I replied
From under the bed.
I was searching for
The red bag that matched
The red heels I was wearing.

"He asked for you,"
There was something different
In Jasmine's voice, but
I continued on my search,
Trying my best to act normal.

"Did he say why?" I asked,
Pulling the bag out and
Standing up. Jasmine was
Not at the door but
Right behind me.

"Are you seeing Ricky?"
Her eyes slits when I turned
To face her. They were
Searching for the truth as
Though expecting me to lie.

"No, why would I
Be seeing your boyfriend?"
I scoffed, walking around her.
I started to put things
In the red bag, hoping this
Was the end of the conversation.

"He broke up with me,"
Jasmine fell onto my bed
Dramatically. "He found
Someone else," she croaked
Before sobbing loudly.

"Forget about him, you
Deserve better, you'll see,"
I said, patting her leg.

"Oh no, is that the time!
Sorry Jazz, I have to go."

I slung my bag onto
My shoulder, grabbed my
Phone and my keys and
Ran out of the apartment.
The sound of Jasmine's sobs
Following me down the hall.

I met up with my date
At the corner of our block.
We made our way to the
Restaurant.

"So you broke up with Jazz?"
I looked up at Ricky.

"And you didn't tell her
I broke up with her for you."
His response was a statement
Not a question. "She doesn't
Want me. She never did.

"How do you know
I want you?" I asked,
Following the maitre d' to our table.
"How do you know I'm only
Using you to hurt her?"

"I just know," he said,
A smug smile plastered on
His face. "Plus you're not like that.
She is, but you're not."

The evening passed with
Good food, good wine
And good conversation,
The roommate and the ex-boyfriend
Enjoying each others' company.

Mario invited me up for a night cap
But I declined as I had an early morning.
As I walked home,
I slipped off my red heels.

I found Jasmine fast asleep
On the couch in the living room,
"I Love Lucy" on the TV.
I turned it off and
Made my way to my room.

"Lucy......?"

"Yeah, Jazz,"
I turned back to look
At her.

"I love you, Lucy,"
Jazz said, drowsily.

"I know, I love you, too,"
I turned and went to my room.
I locked the door and
Fell into bed, knowing that
That was the last time
Jasmine will ever say that.

I love Jasmine and
I love Ricky and
They both love Lucy.

Fuck It!!

One
Two
Three
Fo...
Fou...
Fuck it!
Fuck this.
Fuck that.
And most importantly
Fuck you.

So much for
Anger management.

So much for
Trying to control
The beast
That lived within.

The beast
That wanted
To howl
Into the night's sky.

Back arched
Backwards.
A feral scream
Soaking the silence.
A patient moon
Blanching the twisted face.

Fuck it!
Fuck it!!
Fuck it!!!

Wait!
Did I forget something?
Oh, yeah,
Fuck it!!!!

Everything is not
Under my control.
The puppet master
Has dropped a string.

Still, the play continues.
Still, the seconds tick by.
Still, this too shall pass.
But until that time comes...

Fuck it!
Fuck it!!
Fuck it!!!

Declaration of Hate

I hate you!
I hate you!!
I hate you!!!
I love you.

I try to convince
Myself,
But it's a loosing
Battle.

But I will win
One day
And I will
Declare to you that
I HATE YOU!!!!

(pic: vi.sualize.us

My Rage

Everybody step back!!!
Take cover
Behind a desk,
A door,
Something.
I'm about to explode.

I'm a volcano,
And I must warn you,
What I emit will hurt you,
Because I've saved up
All the hurt you caused me.

The lava is forcing
It's way out.
I've bloody well had it,
I've had it
With your bleeding demands,
And all the shit
You've shoveled my way.

Then there is an explosion.
You know what?
You can find someone else
To deal with your shit
'Cause, baby,
I don't need this.

Lava starts to flow.
Remember last year?
I should have spoken up.
And last week,
That's not going to happen again.

And flows and flows,
Till it dries
And clogs the mouth
Of the volcano.
Now all that's left
Is putting things back
To how it was.

(pic: PLAZA of the MIND)