โœจโœ๐ŸพP.L.O.T.S. POETS COLLABORATION โœ๐Ÿพโœจ

๐ŸŒน๐Ÿ”ฅPERSONAL POETRY-FEATURING OUR FACEBOOK GROUP PAGE MEMBERS๐Ÿ”ฅ๐ŸŒน

โ€œI don’t know if this would be considered a poem or just more rambling thoughts.โ€ ~ Robert Kearl

“Where, Oh Where?”

Where, Oh where, has my life gone? Up to this point, it’s always been a journey from 1 point to another

Living from one dream to another

But I can’t wait to see what tomorrow may bring me today

It just might be a random thought; would I be wrong to wish?

I could fix my heart and mind this time or is this the last time

I’m trying to make things right or is this just wishful thinking

I wish I was right this time, but I fear I’m wrong

I’ve nearly lost my mind living in the past but for this moment in time

I’ve started looking for peace without you here beside me this will be the last time I look to the sky

to try to find my place in the heavens above

I just want you to know within myself,

I’m trying to just let go one last time, but I can’t seem to find, the courage to let my heart lead me along this path in life

Where, Oh where, have I gone wrong, in thinking heaven was only a hop skip and jump away from me?

Sometimes it’s as if you’re still here beside me?

I can hear your still soft voice, whispering in my ear, but when I open my eyes your nowhere to be found

Where, Oh where, have all these angels gone?

All to soon they’ve all flown to heaven…

one last time

ยฉ 2019 Robert Kearl

 

โœจโœ๐Ÿพโœจโœ๐Ÿพโœจโœ๐Ÿพโœจโœ๐Ÿพโœจโœ๐Ÿพโœจโœ๐Ÿพ

 

For Your Trust, I Thank You

(for John Jackson)

Watching you walk down Leland Avenue

cigarette in one hand, umbrella in the other

sporting brown-everything clothes

looking like a man who had just come through

your account of the events that put you here echoed

in my head

John, the pain you feel is yours/mine/ours

we menfolk wear it draped over our shoulders like kente cloth

I say walk on!

move purposefully through the redundancy

of hard heads and fools

brothers whose eyes have become tinfoil

whose hearts are cold and unfeeling

from chasing delusions of patriarchal grandeur

no self-respecting, self-loving male person behaves in this way

what bastardization of oneโ€™s humanity!

what reduction of oneโ€™s Creator-given potential!

what needless pain they bear!

what unnecessary dues they pay!

Your time here may not be long, as you say

nevertheless, go back into the arena of life

not stuck on stupid as before

but renewed in faith that right outweighs wrong

anyplace, anytime, any whatever

go back while the blood yet runs warm in your veins

with a vision of the new world coming

wherein everyone will have time and love for everyone

regardless of his group, color, creed, sexuality

even the hard heads and the fools

diminished brothers whose square expressivity

is not the gold standard of who you/me/us/they be

commit to the righteous struggle of wholeness

that the inner peace enables you to redeem yourself

in the eyes of she who carried you to term

commit to the righteous struggle of wholeness

that it enlarges the circle of brothers who seek deliverance

from the yoke of domination and subordination

finally, take up the struggle because doing so, I do believe

will increase the betterment of humankind

and our only Mother Earth

Yes, John, go back into the arena this time

as a 360-degree male person human being

reconciled and in harmony with your blended essence

believing with everything you feel in yourself

that we menfolk all over these United States

will someday accept the rejected truth of ourselves

then board gondolas of mutual respect

and float down the river Mississippi in complete unanimity

to that melodious harbor of democratic fellowship

ยฉ 2019 Clover Mathis

 

โœจโœ๐Ÿพโœจโœ๐Ÿพโœจโœ๐Ÿพโœจโœ๐Ÿพโœจโœ๐Ÿพโœจโœ๐Ÿพ

 

Bob McNeil

http://www.undergroundbooks.org/bob-mcneil.html

 

โœจโœ๐Ÿพโœจโœ๐Ÿพโœจโœ๐Ÿพโœจโœ๐Ÿพโœจโœ๐Ÿพโœจโœ๐Ÿพ

South Rim

By La-Faithia White

It was cold and damp

when we reached the peak –

Isis, buddah, jupiter, and cedar mountain,

surrounding colorful views

of the temples all in reach.

Startled and meek, mesmerized by

your beauty, tears rolling down

my cheeks, unable to speak.

I stare and breathe, springtime

in April, this time next

year the cycle of nature will

repeat, winding roads, no streets,

cliff retreats, immense landscapes,

and glass plank bridges, a

spectacular vision only God

can create such an amazing composition as

The Grand Canyon.

ยฉ 2019 La-Faithia White

 

โœจโœ๐Ÿพโœจโœ๐Ÿพโœจโœ๐Ÿพโœจโœ๐Ÿพโœจโœ๐Ÿพโœจโœ๐Ÿพ

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