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"eunice" poems
What does Eunice bring on these blustered, raging winds? Busted fences put up in haste, a forlorn balloon cut loose, with a smiley face harking back to those asymmetric aceeeed days when polarity was frowned upon: what’s your name where you from what you done? A man cut from rich serge can be employed to gaslight blackened eyes to white, but the **** in Kent’s hedges don’t lie
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Feb 18, 2022
Feb 18, 2022 at 6:50 AM UTC
You seein’ iss?
Joe and Rose’s Children Joseph’s plane was shot down near England during  WWII John was assassinated in 1963 of November Twenty-Two Rose Marie Mary had a lobotomy because she was acting aggressively Kathleen, wed Wm J Robt Cavendish and she later died unexpectedly Eunice married a great man,  Lieutenant  Robert S. Shriver Patricia wed actor Peter Lawford, their marriage wasn't forever Robert wed Ethel Skakel, he was another that was assassinated Jacqueline Bovier felt sure that the Kennedy’s might be hated Married to Stephen Edward Smith Jean was wed to him until his death Edward (Ted) late one night drove off a bridge at Chappaquiddick Reporting the next day about Mary Jo Kopechne was quite horrific Ted was married twice, first to Virginia Joan Bennett  1958–1982 And then next until his death Victoria Anne "Vicki" Reggie too Copyright 2013 All Rights Reserved
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Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 4:06 PM UTC
The Kennedy's
Aren’t we all atheists until We utterly believe in ourselves? -Eunice Adewole
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Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 4:49 AM UTC
// Belief //
She was like the wind, You long for during a hot summer day. She was like an anchor, That would save you from drowning. Yet, she was so empty, Like the infinitive endless black holes you find in galaxies, The same galaxies that were trapped inside her. She just couldn’t figure out, How to handle such a given gift like hers. And with having a vivid mind but a broken shell, And conjuring smiles on everyone’s face, But not hers, She decided to vanish into the nothingness. -Eunice Adewole
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Jul 21, 2016
Jul 21, 2016 at 4:46 PM UTC
// She //
People laugh, I hurt But I don't mind Gender is the joke I am the punchline Fighting for the binaries when our expression is undefined If I die then I'll be the last bit lived true My angry people may take my body since I'll not be back
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Jun 20, 2017
Jun 20, 2017 at 10:07 PM UTC
Joan Eunice Smith
Oh, tim'rous beastie This wind is too much for me Do not fly away
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Feb 20, 2022
Feb 20, 2022 at 2:31 PM UTC
Eunice, Eunice, Go Away
My dad and his friend driving out to the pasture to sit in the pickup truck and talk about what? How the cows are doing, the upcoming hunting season, growing quail, fishing, the state of the country. I don't know what these men talked about but they spent hours together. While they were out talking Eunice and Marie sat smoking in the living room, discussing stuff. I could sit and listen to them for hours, but don't remember what they talked about. Maybe Marie would get out one of her poems or show my Mama some of her ceramics or paintings. We girls would dance together the bop to the latest 50's music or we would ride our horses through the pastures and at night we would play Scarin' with their brother-a hide and seek game in the dark. We spent every weekend together, eating greens, fried cornbread and chicken. I always thought I was Marie's favorite because she was always so kind to me. She was a kind of Earth Mother, quite different from my own Mama. Sometimes Sonny, the boy, would get in trouble because we girls would tell on him for throwing corncobs at us. Then Marie would go after him with a skillet, a switch or a paddle, whatever was handy. Lamar had been in WWII and had been too close to a grenade. He developed terrible skin cancers which left horrid scars on his face. When I was 15, he died and Marie started working in the Catholic School so the three kids could still attend. Here we were the Baptists (us) and the Catholics (them) never realizing that our friendship in rural Mississippi was a bit unusual. Mama would lend her Bible to Marie because the Catholic church did not allow the people to read and interpret for themselves at that time. When we were really young, the family lived in an old unpainted two-story house with Lamar's Dad-Cap'n-a strict old grumpy German who we tried to stay away from. We would come up from Louisiana when I was four and spend the night for the nine months we lived in Louisiana. Saturday night baths were in a tub-four girls first, then Sonny last-he was a boy and the dirtiest. No running water and a two-seater outhouse. Those were the days...
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Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 9:11 AM UTC
Frank and Lamar
My dad and his friend driving out to the pasture to sit in the pickup truck and talk about what? How the cows are doing, the upcoming hunting season, growing quail, fishing, the state of the country. I don't know what these men talked about but they spent hours together. While they were out talking Eunice and Marie sat smoking in the living room, discussing stuff. I could sit and listen to them for hours, but don't remember what they talked about. Maybe Marie would get out one of her poems or show my Mama some of her ceramics or paintings. We girls would dance together the bop to the latest 50's music or we would ride our horses through the pastures and at night we would play Scarin' with their brother-a hide and seek game in the dark. We spent every weekend together, eating greens, fried cornbread and chicken. I always thought I was Marie's favorite because she was always so kind to me. She was a kind of Earth Mother, quite different from my own Mama. Sometimes Sonny, the boy, would get in trouble because we girls would tell on him for throwing corncobs at us. Then Marie would go after him with a skillet, a switch or a paddle, whatever was handy. Lamar had been in WWII and had been too close to a grenade. He developed terrible skin cancers which left horrid scars on his face. When I was 15, he died and Marie started working in the Catholic School so the three kids could still attend. Here we were the Baptists (us) and the Catholics (them) never realizing that our friendship in rural Mississippi was a bit unusual. Mama would lend her Bible to Marie because the Catholic church did not allow the people to read and interpret for themselves at that time. When we were really young, the family lived in an old unpainted two-story house with Lamar's Dad-Cap'n-a strict old grumpy German who we tried to stay away from. We would come up from Louisiana when I was four and spend the night for the nine months we lived in Louisiana. Saturday night baths were in a tub-four girls first, then Sonny last-he was a boy and the dirtiest. No running water and a two-seater outhouse. Those were the days...
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9
As I look over my first year of high school, all I can remember is this BURNING sadness. It throbs in my chest, robbing my lungs of air and causing my mind to slide in a downward spiral. I remember the yelling. I remember the panic. I remember the sorrow coursing through my veins, inching between my bones until it filled every last inch of me. I remember the cuts, most of all. But I also remember my friends. I remember Navleen. I remember Eunice. I remember Damien and Kylee I remember Kayleigh and Humera. I remember the jokes, the silly conversations, the laughter. I remember the stupidity that is the teenager's mind. It's one of our last shots at being kids. We want to take it. But... You Won't Let Us...
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Jun 15, 2019
Jun 15, 2019 at 11:01 PM UTC
9th Grade
Your favourite colour was the shade On the city when the sun set. Your eyes were as deep as the ocean, Yet so different from simply blue. You said you hated the rain And loved the heat. In love with the moment, But never the person. You always had A great passion for drawing lines Between two states. But how could you even tell Fire from love, And pain from rain, When in the end they were all just the same? -Eunice Adewole
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Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 2:08 AM UTC
// Juxtapositions //
She was born Eunice Waymon, but changed into Nina Simone This concert pianist who rode her subway dream of fame uptown All the while singing in a deep blues voice: '' Birds flying high, you know How I feel, breeze driftin' on by, you know how I feel, it's a new dawn, It's a new day, it's a new life for me. yeah,it's a new dawn, it's a new day, And I'm feeling good. Fish in the sea, you know how I feel, river runnin' Free,you know how I feel,blossom on the tree, you know how I feel It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me, and I'm feelin' good '' I love you porgy, don't let him take me. Don't let him handle me And drive me mad. If you can keep me , I wanna stay here, with you Forever, And I'll be glad, yes, I loves you porgy, don't let him handle me, with his hot hands, if you can keep me, I wants to stay with you Forever, I 've got my man
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Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 8:36 PM UTC
When Nina Sang The Blues By Victor Tripp
She was born Eunice Waymon, But changed into Nina Simone This concert pianist who rode her subway dream of fame uptown All the while singing in a deep blues voice: " birds flying high, you know How I feel, breeze driftin' on by, you know how I feel, it's a new dawn It's a new day, it's a new life for me, yeah, it's a new dawn, it's a new day And I'm feeling good.Fish in the sea, you know how I feel,river running Free, you know how I feel, blossom on the tree, you know how I feel It's a new life for me, and I'm feeling good " I love you porgy, don't let him take me. Don't let him handle me And drive me mad. If you can keep me, I wanna stay here, with you Forever, and I'll be glad
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Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 10:40 PM UTC
When Nina Sang The Blues By Victor Tripp
Someday when I leave this earth They'll need some details from my birth Who is a better biographer than me To let all know of my family tree. Just to get the story straight I think I need to participate. No one would ever know Of fears I had so long ago How as a child of four I questioned my Mother from door to door. Thought I was adopted but when I learned to read I found the truth A birth certificate Showing that I was the Baby girl of my parents Frank and Eunice Or at least I appeared to be I needed documentation Even then What was I thinking? My poor Mother sometimes Covered her ears I asked so many questions Had so many fears School was not fun when I began I was so nervous I could barely walk in. The principal looked like a witch No kidding What kind of place was this?
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Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 6:38 PM UTC
I think I'll Write My Own Obit
Mammy Jospehine, Death lingers on your breath; From every third sentence The untimely demise of a friend Is plucked from your alexandria And laid to rest in the London air. The engagement party became your wake; Gratitude came first, some qualifications second Since our celebrations reminded you of your reverend Who possessed your heart in full Until his tendons supporting you Severed clean when he rode a bit too quick Molding his Harley into the spine of bricks Previously the boundaries of your new home. Leaving the party in Cousin Jason's car The joy on your face seeped into my arm Revealing your age old scars. Praising the jollof rice and the confetti You stopped and realised you were indeed not ready To forget old Aunty Eunice Who welcomed her release from an unsteady mind. Even though I saw how much joy hurt I couldn't help but feel peaceful Because I know that your true strength Is your ability to know that persistence is evil. Yet your persistence Despite the toll its taken Enshrines your Friends In the Prism of your qualified lens.
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Sep 4, 2024
Sep 4, 2024 at 8:25 AM UTC
Mammy Josephine
And in times, People were using your heart just like a toy. Tossing it around, Not caring too much if it might break under the pressure Of kicking it with their feet. Oh, And they took your feelings along with it, So you were left like a cracked open nutshell. But would it hurt less if they let you keep them? You are dying to know and you wish You could rip your heart into a million pieces by yourself, Just to see and maybe understand, Why they enjoy to do it so often. -Eunice Adewole
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Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 1:26 PM UTC
// Feels //