Mon | Nov 30, 2020

Poems

Published:Sunday | October 11, 2020 | 12:08 AM

October Moon

The moon shines over crystal ships

suspended on the October Bay, bereft of gravity

and yet tightened to the width of my eyebrows …

The silvery midst lights and darks the night’s skin

as an outer dream sails on to the void …

A children’s corner echo plays the piano

caressing the keyboard of our ivory spines

as we bend and dove a primitive dance

made of laughs and circle rounds

Would that be love unsaid?

An iris’ shine mirrors the moon in lightning …

The miracle of a revelation!

A silent movie closing …

a simple but encompassing regard.

– Juan González Mijares

Forthright revolution

I am the revolution

Seeking solutions

To dissolve the upheavals

Within this space!

Call me a paradox, or not.

But, far too many are entrapped

With some in the middle,

A few at the top,

And the bulk of stragglers under the mats!

This must stop!

It must be stemmed through education,

Real self-worth and introspection,

Seeing beyond the physical,

Finding purpose to move on

First, as individuals;

Then, through collaborations

With other forward-thinking humans!

I am the revolution!

Set on helping a nation to rise!

To rise from the grime, the mud, and the slime;

To cleanse its soul and open its eyes;

To help it look onward instead of behind

And allow it to breathe, again.

I am the revolution

Propelling your rage;

Propelling your rage;

Propelling your rage to bring the change!

– Erica Brown Marriott

The Dance

It was in a bed of sweet-smelling, radiant, succulent, flowers that I stood;

or so I thought.

Fragrance so potent – a deadly sweet.

I danced upon it.

I danced among it.

I basked in it.

Not knowing that among those sweet, soft petals were thorns – thorns of betrayal and deceit.

Who would have known that amid this perceived beauty hid seeds of attractiveness?

You watched me danced, you knew I couldn’t stop – addictive.

With every motion thorns ripped through bare flesh;

even when it hurts – bloodstained feet, I kept going and going.

Dancing to your time, rhythm and pace.

I danced ... I danced ...

Hauling, dragging, faltering feet.

I danced ... for you I danced ...

So aloof you had become; as you stood and watched.

Oh how your eyes pierced my soul with indifference.

Your lips singing an utterly reprehensible song.

Your voice as cold as ice.

After much pain the music stopped.

You pulled the plug.

It was over.

An abrupt deafening silence.

Untenable ...

As you walked away glancing at my bloodstained feet, with a menacing smile;

you were satisfied.

“The show is now over,” you repeated.

I stood in the spot where my blistered flesh kissed the ground, kissing the changing flowers – bloody wilting flowers.

I reached out to you; but your shadow raced along with the wind.

– Wallicia Willie