December 0

Blog Archive

Fri, 24.08.2018

The Kings EGD by Brandon Turner

I needed you in love hopefully grading on to what we had unjustly you fleet abnormal in just finished of what is love conjunction,Bleeding form are love force on attached by are father’s graced by the idea and govern of power they looked in fear and enjoyment shamed for their adroitly, We looked in are […]

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Thu, 24.09.2009

I Know the Lord Will Make a Way by Charles Albert Tindley.

This world is one great battlefield
With forces all arrayed,
If in my heart I do not yield
I’ll overcome some day.
I’ll overcome some day,
I’ll overcome some day,
If in my heart I do not yield,
I’ll overcome some day.

Both seen and unseen powers join
To drive my soul astray,
But with His Word a sword of mine,
I’ll overcome some day.
I’ll overcome some day,
I’ll overcome some day,
But with His Word a sword of mine,
I’ll overcome some day.

A thousand snares are set for me,
And mountains in my way,
If Jesus will my leader be,
I’ll overcome some day.
I’ll overcome some day,

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Thu, 24.09.2009

BARS FIGHT by Lucy Terry

August, ’twas the twenty-fifth,
Seventeen houndred forty-six,
The Indians did in ambush lay,
Some very valiant men to slay.
‘Twas nigh unto Sam Dickinson’s mill,
The Indians there five men did kill.
The names of whom I’ll not leave out,
Samuel Allen like a hero foute,
And though he was so brave and bold,
His face no more shall we behold.
Eleazer Hawks was killed outright,
Before he had time to fight,
Before he did the Indians see,
Was shot and killed immediately.
Oliver Amsden he was slain,
Which caused his friends much grief pain.
Simeon Amsden they found dead
Not many rods f

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Thu, 24.09.2009

LITTLE BITTIE GAL’S BLUES written by Joe Turner.

I wake up every morning
Honey with the risin’ sun
I wake up every morning
Baby with the risin’ sun
Thinkin’ about my honeydripper
And all the wrong she’s done

When you see my baby
Tell her I said hurry home
If you see my baby
Tell her I said hurry home
I ain’t had no real good lovin’
Since my gal been gone

She’s a little bitty girl
And they call her Vita Lee
She’s a little bitty girl
And they call her Vita Lee
Well the poor girl’s gone
But she shure was good to me

I don’t mind cryin’ baby
But I hate to sleep all by myself
Don’t mind cryin’ baby
But I hate to sleep al

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Thu, 24.09.2009


In the kitchen as the toast browns
I put on my 3rd grade cateye glasses
pearly blue with rhinestone tips
I found with the baby books.

Music’s echoing into the room
from the radio my brother hooked up
in the bathroom upstairs.
I prance to the refrigerator,
doing tina turner
making my dress into a mini skirt
to get some juice.

Then my father comes in
& shakes his head
four years’ money for college
gone straight
down the drain…

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Thu, 24.09.2009

Last Instructions by Garth Tate.

And when I die,
when this old spirit
spurs into God’s
unseen air don’t shed
one tear,
sisters and brothers instead
rejoice with song and prayer;
paint landscapes of heaven
for the eyes of our children
please don’t grieve
my departure, friends
for we shall meet again
in time…

I’ll be watching and waiting
your time…

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Thu, 24.09.2009


Strange but true is the story
of the sea-turtle and the shark- the instinctive drive of the weak to survive in the oceanic dark.
riven by hunger from abyss to shoal, sometime the shark swallows the sea-turtle whole.
The sly reptilian marine
withdraw, into the shell of his undersea craft,
his leathery head and the rapacious claws
that can rip a rhinoceros’ hide or strip a crocodile to fare-thee-well;
now inside the shark,
the sea-turtle begins the churning seesaw
of his decent into pelagic hell;
then…then with ravenous jaws that cut sheet steel scrap,
the sea-turt

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Thu, 24.09.2009

COTTON SONG by N. Jean Toomer.

Come, brother, come. Let’s lift it;
Come now, hewit!

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Thu, 24.09.2009

THE YELLOW BIRD by James W. Thompson.

Mandarin in a silent film he wings past painted women chalked in doorways gesturing with fragile lacquered hands.
Large yellow bird he alights in a foreign land his buttocks fan the perch of a stool
fluttering his eyes rise swallow the eddy of human forms swabbed in denim shod in boots.
His stemmed drink stands clear among tumblers of foaming beer and he sips-with ease of Eliot attending an effusive reading-as the music grinds in 4/4 time.
The stranger steals from the Victorian bed combs a hard hand through his blond dead gazing in sandalwood scented gloom at the soft yellow bird asleep i

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Thu, 24.09.2009

ONION BUCKET by Lorenzo Thomas.

All silence says music will follow
No one acts under any compulsion
Your story so striking and remain unspoken
Floods in the mind. Each one trying now
To instigate the flutter of light in your
Ear. The voice needling the flashy token
Your presence in some room disguised
As the summer of the leaves. Hilltops
Held by the soft words of the running
Wind. What lie do you need more than this
The normal passion. And each thing says
Destroy one another or die. Like a natural
Introducing here on this plant to Europe
The natural.

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New Poem Each Day

Poetry Corner

And where do your parents summer? she asked him. The front porch he replied... SUNDAY BRUNCH by Ruben Jackson.
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