Poarch poems on Hello Poetry

DC raw love Mar 2016

How can I begin this true and yet very odd story... Do I begin it when I was a child, my adolescent years, teenager or get straight to the last two years.... Yet they would all tie this story together.... At present I'm sitting on my poarch, straight up in the hood "lower 3rd, Alexandria Louisiana... Back to more shortly... Back... Did I tell you that I am a 55 year old successful business man from Ft Myers, Florida... Oh by the way I was a functioning ****** addict for the majority of my life, sold mega dope... And I love black women... Let me tell you, if you haven't delt with southern hood black girl attitude, you ain't seen attitude....

How life goes on and how things change..... I met a girl that was something different, could it change my life or will it be a fight.... Friday night in the hood is a different life... From dinner at the country club.... To staying clear of a fight..... Living in the hood still feels right...

As times have changed, black girls these days hold their ***** tight.... It will always cost you change, so what else is new in life.... It can come very cheap or very costly depending on the game....

mark john junor Jul 2013

the simple wonder of it all

there are moments
that endure in memory for a lifetime
only in the simple nuance
of their presence in ones life

the smell of your mothers french
toast sunday morning breakfast after the fire on the poarch
and the crisp harsh sound of eggs sizzling

the first day of school
and your locker full of new books
and unopened notebooks
crisp new paper had a scent
i recall it clearly
crisp wood with a metallic sharp undertone
the smell of newly sharpened number two pencils

i cannot place the memory
as to how old i was
or anything beyond the fragment
but its one that lingers for me:

spring sunlight
near dusk
as i rode in the backseat of a strange car
some friend of my parents
we were driving past Paine lake
and the sunlight burst upon me
thru a break in the overhead trees
and the thought that filled me with
such wondrous joy
'its finally summer'

what i wouldnt
give to feel that free again
without care or burden
simply filled with joy at
the simple wonder of it all

Randy Mcpeek Sep 2018

Missing you

Missing You.                                     9/21/2018

I sat and talked to you today. I miss those talks, and the way you would listen.
I knew I could tell you anything. Your advice was nothing short of just what I needed to hear. You knew I needed encouragement,  entwined with the underlying question "Randy, what are you doing to do? Are you going to let this beat you down? Or are you going to beat it? In case you've forgotten, you are stronger than you know". words I'll always remember.
What I wouldn't give hear his gravelly voice, and see that cheesy mustache one more time. When we would sit and talk, drinking coffee, sitting on the porch swing in Idaho. It felt like we were the only to people in the world that  mattered. In a world that could care less about me, you always had my back.
I wonder what it's like in heaven for you. Are there places to sit and talk like the poarch in Idaho? I hope the angels recognize a wise and decent man when they see one. Are you singing in the choir?. Your baritone voice booming so loud that the heavens shake a bit.

I sat at your grave and wished you a Happy Birthday.  My hand sweeps off the dirt , empties the old sludgy water, fills it with clear,and pops in a beautiful arrangement of flowers.
“I miss you,Dad.” I whisper..Then a smile comes across my lips as I repeat the line I used to tease you with “Our father who art in heaven, HOWARD be thy name"..

By,
Randy McPeek

#happbirthdaydad #birthdaywishesinheavin #missingmydad #loveyoudad

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