December 0

Blog Archive

Thu, 24.09.2009

QUEST by Naomi Long Madgett.

I will track you down the years,
Down the night,
Till my anguish falls away,
Stat by star,
And my heart spreads flaming wings
Where you are.

I will find you, never fear-
Make you mine.
Think that you have bound me fast
To the earth?
I will rise to sing you yet,
Song of mirth.

I will let you think you won,
Perfect dream,
Till I creep from dark and toil
To your side,
Hold you to my heart and sleep,
Satisfied.

I will track you down the sky,
Down the blue,
Till my song becomes the sun
Of the years
And the golden April rains
Are my tears…

From Star by S

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Thu, 24.09.2009

MORALITY by Naomi Long Madgett

This is the surest death of all the deaths I know.
The one that halts the breath,
The one that falls with snow
Are nothing but a peace
Before the second zone,
For Aprils never cease
To resurrect their own,
And in my veins
Flows blood as old as Eve.
The smallest cell contains
Its privileged reprieve.
But vultures recognize
This single mortal thing
And watch with hungry eyes
When hope starts staggering…

Copyright 1965, reprinted by permission of Naomi Long Madgett.

Reference:

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Thu, 24.09.2009

BLACK WOMEN by Naomi Long Madgett.

My hair is springy like the forest grasses
That cushion the feet of squirrels-
Crinkled and blown in a south breeze
Like small leaves of native bushes.

My black eyes are coals burning
Like a low, full, jungle moon
Through the darkness of being.
In a clear pool I see my face,
Know my knowing.

My hands move pianissimo
Over the music of the night:
Gentle bird fluttering through leaves and grasses
They have not always loved,
Nesting, finding home.

Where are my lovers?
Where are my tall, my lovely princes
Dancing in slow grace
Toward knowledge of my beauty
Where
Are my bea

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Thu, 24.09.2009

EXITS AND ENTRANCES by Naomi Long Madgett.

Through random doors we wandered
into passages disguised as paradise
and out again, discarding,
embracing hope anew, discarding again:
exits and entrances to many houses.

Without joy we sang,
without grace we danced,
our humpback rhythms colliding
with our sanity,
our beauty blanching in a hostile sun.

How should we, could we
sing our song in a strange land?

Through door we have come
home to our kingdom, our own battleground,
not with harps, not with trumpets even,
but harmed with the invincible sword and shield
of our own names and faces…..

Referenc

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New Poem Each Day

Poetry Corner

these hips are big hips they need space to move around in. they don't fit into little petty places. these hips are free hips. they don't like to be... HOMAGE TO MY HIPS by Lucille Clifton
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