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 Sep 2015 Kaley Smith
Melissa S
One pulls me down in a sea of tenderness
safe gentle lapping waves of love and comfort
so soothing like a warm summer pond in the south
He is my anchor

The other loves me like a wild forbidden passionate rush
an all consuming type of love, making the world disappear
clinging to a life raft in a turbulent sea
He is my storm

Enticing waters with the luminous waves that can tempt the dead from their bed. My soul longs for both. I cannot drift off to peaceful sleep until the waves of desire find their sweet release. A wondrous storm of love in a turbulent sea or a steadfast anchor that has taken hold on a part of me
 Sep 2015 Kaley Smith
Sharlee
Black love that!
Why? Makes me cry, death passes by can make you sigh.
Don’t try, black is pride, makes you smile, love my blackness
God blessed, loving my hotness (meaning sexiness), my black skin, my black hair.
Why love Black? Don’t be afraid, your not a slave, no chattels, no chains, no master, no way!
Love your life, cherish your black skin, no bleaching low self esteem,
High cheekbones, **** curves know what I mean.
Be Black, Love That!
 Sep 2015 Kaley Smith
ALamar
We pray, we march yet nothing occurs
The line between love and hate remains a blurred
Line...
I...
Want to love them but their hate for me doesnt make the pain hurt less
When they put their bullets in my back, their knees in my back
Dead blacks in the street makes me want to attack
In defense of self
My pride for self
My love for self
Relishes not in useless killing or demeaning
I find myself grieving for every mother and father putting their child in a grave
In a day and age when social media shows the outrage live
The outcry just seems to embolden police officers lies
The 24 hour news, reminds us what we mean to Lady Liberty
And as her children sing the blues
Historical levels of un-education continue
Existential unemployment
Prison rates that makes for better business
The world witnesses police brutality and black fatalities in real time and does nothing about it
If you never walked a mile in my shoes then you know nothing about it
If you lived a day in my life you would never feel blessed
You would feel less vested in teaching your children that in the U.S. all men are created equal
#BlackLivesMatter
 Aug 2015 Kaley Smith
SE Reimer
~

where clear blue sky meets water's deep
his sunbeams reach her waves to tease,
to warm her currents, foaming spray;
dawn to dusk when daylight fades,
till only afterglow remains,
an interlude of celestial stage.

he speaks to her on written sky
and in the mournful sea-bird's cry,
wraps sultry ribbons in her tresses,
his fingers linger in caresses,
and in soothing choreography
he gently stirs her ocean's breeze.

he sends her gifts of palm and dates,
wrapped on waves in salty sprays;
watches her with much delight,
he sings to her each eventide,
love songs with the calling gull,
and rocks her tween the gusts and lulls.

wedded at horizon’s edge,
devotion to her he has pledged,
to have forever and to hold,
his comfort to her storm-tossed soul;
his tender kiss on tear-stained cheek,
where clear blue sky meets water's deep.

~

post script.

when one gazes
into the vastness
of sea and sky,
of what is from
height to depth
an endless blue,
one cannot but think
of eternal devotion,
of the relationship
between two who have
pledged their forever troth!


as i wonder from what recesses
this one came, i remember…
our 36th wedding anniversary
is fast approaching...
i’ve been thinking of what to gift her
that will make her cry anew.


**thank you to Hello Poetry for
the tremendous honor bestowed
with their designation of this poem as the daily
and to all who have expressed their heartfelt
love and appreciation... your message
came through loud and clear...
there can be no denying it,
i am an incredibly blessed man
because of each of you!  
thank you, truly,
from the bottom of my heart!
Could it be possible that I’m worth more than my ******?
When you look at me what do you see?

Because I am frightened by your eager eyes.
I am nervous at the way you so openly ask me,
“Are you married? What is your age?”
I pray in my mind that I’m just being naive.
Not every man is seeking to make you their toy.

But as I walk down the street, foreign tongues caress my ears,
Eyes poke at my curves,
Hands reach to cage me.

I am American.
I am white.
I am a college graduate.
I have a credit card.
I have a savings account.

But these things about me are not an excuse.
My skin may shine in the sun,
my belly may be well fed,
my privilege may make you jealous,
So hate me for my birthright,
But let me be free.

I am not here to save you.
I am not here to please you.

But let this be a lesson.
Let this interaction give me courage and hope that maybe you really do only want to talk.
Let my mind stop alerting my adrenaline to run so that when I need to I can outrun you.
Let this be a peace offering.
Let me tell you that I am American,
But that doesn't mean I’m a dollar sign.
That doesn’t mean I’m better than you.
It means that I was lucky.
Know that I am sorry.

I am not here to save you.
I am not here to please you.
I am here to be with you.
Written in Kenya at a hotel after a week of cat calls and eager eyes.
Admiration is a word that comes to mind when I think about her work.
The seamstress only has to imagine and she can create a masterpiece of herself.
With every thread, button, and hem she tells a story.
She represents herself with every outfit. Her work molds to her every curve and bump.
She can move effortlessly and not worry about a tair
or loose string.
She can create herself into exactly who she wants to be.

And then there is me.
Who has to fight every zipper,
glare at every neckline,
and gripe at worn out areas that have rubbed and tugged to try and fit
my untamed figure.
The clothes that disguise me only entangle me
in a world of self hate and disappointment.
The number or letter on the tag become scars tattooed in my brain of three words:
not
skinny
enough.

I remember when a boy in line during the 4th grade called me fat ***.
I remember when I was taken by my mother to a store that "might have things that fit better."
I remember looking at pictures of myself next to my friends and instantly comparing every inch of myself to theirs.
I remember when I looked at myself and thought, "maybe if you lost 20lbs. you would be attractive."
When the Seamstress looks in the mirror she sees a canvas.
A challenge.
A body that will fit herself.

When I look in the mirror I see a girl fighting to fit in her body.
I see those memories of hiding behind baggy sweaters.
I see countless dressing room breakdowns.
The seamstress must have harsh eyes.
She must have her own burden.
Her clothes may be her own, but is it all a disguise to hide herself too?
 Aug 2015 Kaley Smith
Amanda
reality
 Aug 2015 Kaley Smith
Amanda
I dreamt of you last night.
Did you wake thinking of me?
My shoulders and back
feel cold now;
it's where your body
should be.

I dreamt of your hand in mine;
fingers laced, you holding me.
And then, it seems,
I awoke
to this cruel reality.
Dear Dad
I know you have physical disabilities,
but you are the centre of my heart,
the love of my life,
so thankful to be your son.

I  am never ashamed of you,
because you are my perfect dad;
your heart is never disabled,
your love has had no divisions,
your mind is pure,
your words calm a raging foe,
and your smiles are infectious,

I will always be your son,
I love you Dad.
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