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poems of the week

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How many times have I sat looking out a window waiting for a man?
How many times have I sat, waiting, waiting, waiting.
Waiting for that bell to ring, that phone, that pager, 
anything to let me know ....something.

How many times have I sat looking out a window waiting for a man?
-too many times to count
-this makes it a trillion and one
-it seems like only yesterday it was the very first time

How many times have I run to the doorbell, the phone, pager, 
just to make sure they were all working properly?
How many shadows have moved in the night that remind me of him?
Is it him? Is it him?

Then my imagination which has kicked into full blown special 
effects gear by this time, has ceased to amaze me with its 
trickery and deceitful lips whispering ever so softly in my ears.

Maybe he's with someone else
Maybe he's tired of you
Maybe he got shot on the way here
Maybe you didn't hear the phone when you went to the bathroom
Maybe they cut off your phone, doorbell, and your pager!

But no, they are all working exceptionally well and you take 
the phone with you everywhere you go

I can't tell you how many times I have sat by a window, any window it
doesn't matter which one.
just sittin' and waitin'
and sittin' and waitin',
waitin' and sittin' for something, anything to happen.


Oh God please let that be him, please!!!!!!!!

Pamela McCullough (c) -


I'll greet you at the door
with a tender kiss...

Hold you close and whisper softly in your ear
how much you were missed...

Remove your jacket and scarf from around your neck
massage your shoulders, and maybe steal a quick peck..

Ask you about your day and look deep into your eyes
sit you down and rub gently your aching thighs...

Feed you strawberries or some other light dish,
then hold you tight and grant your every wish...

Into the night, with candles burning bright,
and before you know it, your hectic day will be 
out of sight..

Now that you are exhausted and in a coma like sleep,
I'll gently stroke your brow and whisper, "Oh, you are 
so sweet".

and while looking down lovingly, wonder how did I end up 
with such a beautiful Queen, but that is something only 
the story tellers of the stars could have foreseen.

Chris Hare (c)


I wept when I read them 
your words pierced so deep
left speechless in emotion

How happy I was to see you
real and vibrant
knowing it was you 
and glimpsing part of you on the inside

No greater gifts given 
than to share the depth of your mind
inner hopes, hates and hunches
the treasures you bring to us on the outside

I must admit I warmed to you
inviting you to enter my mind and explore
it was the most intimate thing I could give you
for what it's worth
I respect you more

In the softness I was saddened
wished hard for the dreams 
not to take hold
too open in my contentment
feeling the fool for sharing my soul

In moments, a hug and good-byes
assurance that all was fine
parting in opposite directions
separate destinations
I found you beautiful

I used to dream of you through your voice
You were always on the edge of my sight
you flowed through my mind in the day
and I called your presence to me at night

You will live and love another 
Love given 

learning what will be
with faith in my heart
seeking peace
I journey

Susan L. Harrigan (c)


As I smile in a way
in which you,
could only make me laugh.

As I close my eyes
and fall deeply in passion, 
as only you could when 
you kissed my lips.

As I begin to drift helplessly
and fainly as only you could,
when you held me close.

LOGICALLY,this gift of
loving you wasn't in vain.
My joy of giving never
left me.

My inspirations
never clouded
my aspirations.

feel your aura, as I look
to the light to see you there.


SUSPENDED when only,
you spoke of my name.

I've carried you for many
years and the memories on which
I recall, are present with each
passing day.

What I have given you;



As I can see logically,
that this gift of 
loving you,

Phaedra Davis (c) -


I was talking with a friend today
--- about men
She's found an African Prince
Black Man in concrete jungle
We reflect on why she's not satisfied with him
--- frustration over petty social conventions

I remember who I believe to be my first love
--I think we're afraid
Of what?
--Being in love.
That uncontrollable feeling
in the barren pit of chests

                 Who stole your heart?
                 And left you with a space that
                 no one, or nothing, can fill.

Being open to unexpected hurts
--Giving up that part so essential to the whole
giving me (you)
to he, who knows so little about you (me)

Later, I replay the conversation in my mind
What about L-0-V-E scares me?
Craving that which I so repel

If u feel					-
can hurt

                 Who hurt your heart,
                 and bruised it in a place that
                 no one, or nothing, can heal?

 --Am I lonely?
Or tired of being alone?
--No matter, I comfort myself
	anger and pain remain locked inside,
	sparks of emotion revealed briefly

--Would love free me
		        to be
(But am I)			    me?

Without he to complete
I'm part of a whole that has yet to be
But I'm impatient
I wait for no one
		        to love/hurt

                  Who stole your heart?
                  Maybe no one can say.
                  One day you will find it,
                  I pray.

Dawn Landon (c)


Mother, mama
can't you see?
You were supposed 
to nurture me.
To make me strong
and proud
and black;
to make me a woman
the thing I lack
the most.
Women don't let men 
come between 
their legs 
and skillfully
extract their hearts
still beating as
they leave.
Women don't let 
silver tongues
whisper magic 
in our ears
while lies linger
up their sleeves.
They're smart, you know
real women are.
Or, at least that's 
what I've heard.
See, I let him come
into me
through me
leaving babies 
in his wake.
From clinic floors
they called to me --
He don't love you
he just told you
so your sweetness
he could take.
Mother, mama tell me,
it's so awful, is it true?
How come you never told me?
Perhaps you never knew.

Ajani Kush (c) -

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