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poems of the week

Enjoy these poems and please email the poets (where applicable) and give them some feedback!


No prayer goes unanswered
when spoken earnestly.
For God's tender mercy
is for all eternity.

A heart that has been broken
is easy to offend.
And a spirit that is shattered 
does not easily mend.

Rivers that are raging
flows into the sea
No man is an island
though some try to be.

There are reasons for tear drops 
and reasons for pain,
In our weakest moments 
there is strength we may gain.

So toil if you must
for just a little longer
The pains of today
will make you stronger.

No prayer goes unanswered 
when spoken earnestly.
For God's tender mercy
is for all eternity. 

Sidney Singleton -


Ever notice the wonders of joy
Ever feel the rapture of delight
I am my mother's child
She has given me flight.

As I sit here on the balcony
Watching this sunrise
I can see me in my mother
I can hear her thoughts devise

You will take over now
Take us, depart
Egypt, Senegal, Ethiopia, Dakar
Carry us with you in your heart!

As I look into the mirror
Faces of the past I see
Kathryn, Richard, Lucy, Mary
And then, Emily?
No, that's ME!

Windows open in my mind
Visions sneak in at every turn
Reuben, Calvin, Charlotte, Horace
Oh, their struggles I have learned

Melungeon, Black, Octoroon, Mulatto
And White on more than occasion
Than they want
Us to be

And here generations later
We're not slaves, we're free
And they're

Sharyn Hunter -

The Lonely Diva

High in tower
with a view of the land
the Diva waits patiently
for her Prince Charming's hand.

Desired by all men
though alone she sleeps
erotic dreams are her escape,
when awakened, she clutches her pillow and weeps.

To confine her passion
is nothing less than a sin,
but when unleashed without control
she possess the drive of ten.

Through rage for the time she's lost
and her restraints now broken
she uses her body thoughtlessly,
as man's undeserved love token.

With little selfworth
and a heart just as cold
she feels like nothing more,
than a piece of meat to be bought or sold.

A Diva's world is empty
with no one to call her own,
she would rather end her reign
than sit on a hollow thrown.

Christopher Hare (Valentino)

Trapped in my own existence
Searching to remove another's definition of me
Nine-to-five slave to other's ambitions
Captive to my training, absent is true education
"Don't pay this, and we'll cut off that"
Though I've come of age I still remain a child to darkness
Cutbacks, layoffs, restructuring:  It's all the same song
Move to a new plantation, to feed from another master's hand
 	Hungry, the children
 	Discouraged, the wife
 	Phantom, in control
 	Powerless, the life

B. Henry -

the all-purpose poem, generic aisle no.1
(dedicated to my fellow niche-ers) 

the agent said to me;
"Make your poems ACCESSIBLE!
to those who cannot read!"

to those who cannot read? i asked,
my eyes and mind agape;
he mimicked, like an ape.

"Trust me, dear child," he said to me,
"Trust me, because, you see,
your writing is too damned complex--
it requires folks to read."

at this, i looked at him as if
he had just pulled himself up outta 
the spin cycle.

he continued on:

"And if you make them read," he said
"It might drive them to drink.
For reading poetry's a pain--
it requires folks to think."

uh, no sh--, sherlock. but, being polite,
i kept my True Feelings to myself
for the time being.  hell, he's Literate.
he knows of what he speaks.  right?  hmmm.

so, what do you suggest? i asked,
really not wanting to know;
I'll tell you what should go."

"The first to go should be the way
you space and type your words;
those little letters are too small,
your spacing's for the birds!"

"And while you're at it," he did say,
"why don't you make it rhyme?
I learned in grade school that is how
poetry's done most the time!"

by this point, i'm wondering to myself
whether or not he got his Literary Agent Badge
from a box of crackerjacks.  but hell, he's on a roll,
let him finish.  maybe i'll Learn Something.

"I've got another good suggestion!"
he went on to voice;
"I'd give up being Deep, my dear;
but, really, it's your choice."

"All-in-all, I would remove
the differences you scribe;
means setting them aside."

y b nermal? i asked him.
He answered with a "tut!
"An abeynermal attitude
will land you on your butt!"

"You said you want to get paid, yeah?"
he teased, knowing my plight;
"Well, if you do, the only way
is writing Poetry-Lite."

of course, i vamoosed.  so who needs money, anyway?

Rose "bambam" Cooper

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