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Take My Hand
Life's Chain
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UNIQUE VERSES BOOKS (Home Page)
Take My Hand
Life's Chain
About
Store
Contact
UNIQUE VERSES BOOKS (Home Page)
Take My Hand
Life's Chain
About
Store
Contact

Take A Look Inside:

Ain’t No Angel

Here I am with my crooked halo

Dancin’ a jig

To some red hot blues

Got crooked wings

Couldn’t fly straight if I wanted to

But an shake my tail to real cool tunes

He’s flying high in the sky

On a wing and a prayer

Deacon righteous got a sweet thang

Playin’ truth or dare

Holy sweet thangs, young, tender

Like pretty babies born again

Shouts, “Hallelujah,” with lover’s passion

As the Preacher moans “Amen”

A lover with a Halo

Cocked to the side

Whether Deacon, Preacher, or little ole me

With sexy crooked wings

There’s no place to hide

Autumn’s Leaves

This was the first poem I ever allowed anyone to read, submitted to a poetry contest. To my surprise, it won second place in Community Pride Magazine 1995.

Deep in a hidden place of my mind

A little child resides

Alone and fatherless

Lost in a world that’s dark and cries

Little boy afraid to live

Afraid to die

Dwells in a little corner of my mind

“Cry baby, cry

Mama’s goin’ wipe those tears away

As always

You fatherless child

Come rock in Mama’s arms

Grow to be a man

I’ll take care of you

As always

You fatherless boy”

In the world

A child in a man’s mind

Don’t know how to live

Just waitin’ to die

“Cry baby, cry

You fatherless child”

Deep in a little corner of my mind

In a Little Corner of My Mind

Brazen skin of autumn’s hue

Burnt by time, moistened by dew

Laboring hot, singing spirituals sway

Raisin head slaves docked at the bay

Planted deep in soil of toil

Seedlings sprout as life uncoil

Strengthened by tears of autumn’s rain

Harvest of grapes plump with pain

 

Pressed against white washed stone

Oozes liquid of life with crimson tone

Offering cups of sacrificed foes

The communion wine...blood overflows

More are thrown on fields of thorns

Hot sun beat upon them till weary-- worn

 

My skin is dark like winter's night

Black African--Son of Kings

Black American--son of slaves

Who with songs of spiritual sway

Cry tears of moist dew--day by day

 

Their beds lie among rotted leaves

Nurturing their children of sundry hue

Upon this soil of hardship and toil

In the land of Autumn

Lies the fallen leaves of

Mother Africa