"pollard" poems
I used to feel ashamed to be put in the category of:
Illegal, immigrant, undocumented,
Or simply not a U.S Citizen
I’ve been oppressed and rejected from:
Jobs, schools and programs,
Because I’m not a red-blooded American
But through God I learned that I should
Be proud of who I am and what country I come from
And that makes me free
Because I still have choices
I still have options
As long as I try, I can smile
As long as I have God
My life is worthwhile
Because I’m His child
I can’t contain myself any more
I’m tired of being broke and poor
I’m going to get that full ride
Into a 4 year college
I’m going to get that steady job security with:
A steady paycheck, that’s re-locatable and it’s fun
I’m tired of lying, hiding, and scamming
To get into organizations, staffing agencies and jobs
That would help my life be healthier
I dislike the fact that you have to
Get married to get a green card
I hate using a fake social security number
Or tax ID on applications that ask for it
I don’t like making up excuses about
Why I don’t qualify for financial aid or unemployment
But I’m going to man up and keep moving forward
It doesn’t matter how much:
Pain, anxiety, frustration, bad attitudes,
Disappointment, confusion, heart break
Or put downs I get in life
I’ll keep fighting the good fight with all my heart
And I’m going to be honest even if hurts me
Because I still have choices
I still have options
As long as I try, I can smile
As long as I have my God,
My life is worthwhile
Because I am His child
By Shannon Pollard
© December 2012
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 9:57 PM UTC
Against the saturated
Horizon of dawn,
Loitering in the dark timbre
Of emerging consciousness -
Dissipating somnolence
And preemptive despair,
Tacitly adumbrate the
Yawning abyss.
Chastened by the cunning and
Lubricious nihilism,
Igniting fermented provocations,
Silent subterfuge; death,
By mirth - the inane;
Lament of the mundane.
Fallow paradigms, accretions of
The last gasp -
Evaporating empty liturgies
Of suspicion;
Charity and equanimity -
Lost in confinement,
Triumphant avarice bearing
Descendants
Of intransigence;
Wielding imperious
Schemes of orthodoxy.
Pollard fragments of
Silken tapestry,
Miasma draped depression
Abridging;
Conversely,
Permuted flurries of anxiety
Dislodge
The vestiges of meaning
That abide
In brazen equivocation.
Tributaries of dogma reach
Their confluence,
Watershed moment,
Numinous effusion
Streams naked epiphany,
The precarious vision -
A gesture of providence,
Certainty and contingency;
Gratuitously derivative, life
Equals choice.
Verdant branches of intention;
And opportunity the vine,
Live forward -
The pen, my voice,
Piquant conduit pouring,
Exuberant wine.
Footprints found in givenness
Underline,
Penumbrae of my soul;
Mirrored silhouettes,
Thoughts and words engender;
And in verse adorn
Fecund soil, Line after line,
The cosmos altered,
Continuum of permanence -
Artist’s art articulating
Essence of my imagination,
I proliferate, I design
Phrases unique,
Participation mystique.
Words creating world,
The apparatus of infinity
Heidegger, ontologically precise,
Language -
The house of Being,
Ineffable, Promethean
Literary devise -
Envisioning possibility,
And abundance to allow,
I occur
Inhabit
Manifest
Future phenomena
Experienced as now.
©2008 & ©2011 W.S. Warner
Sep 16, 2011
Sep 16, 2011 at 2:02 PM UTC
Before I moved to New Mexico
I never thought that I deserved to be in college
Because In California I got bad grades, skipped classes,
Didn’t care about my life and played the victim in high school
Now I’m pursing an Associates and a Bachelor’s Degree
In Liberal art, education and creative writing
I wasn’t sure if I had what it takes to lean on God’s faith
To complete my classes and do well
In that secondary education knowledge
I but I passed my summer with a B+
In my life I’m known to be late for everything I attend
Yeah I was always on that black people time
Waking up at 4:00 am to get ready, eat
And also catch the bus to a summer class
That starts at 8:30am and ends 12:50pm
Every Friday for 3 months was difficult
But I learned to make sacrifices and
I never missed a day of class
I had a bad habit of being a procrastinating excuse maker
But I was tired of wasting time,
I hated proving people right about me
I was tired of my family treating me
Like I was a burden on them
And having haters trying to destroy my spirit
So I could do what they want me to do
So I pushed passed the negativity and I never fell behind
I’d never had a scholarship before
But my first year in Central New Mexico Community College
I received 2 scholarships and I’m going for another one
My mentor used to tell repeatedly
That anything in life that’s worthwhile takes hard work
So try, when it doesn’t work try again and
When you feel like giving up, try even harder
Because a man has no excuses, rich or poor
Now I know 100% that anything is possible with God
And a lot of effort on my part
So I won’t ever quit, I’ll stay motivated and hungry till I have nothing left
Because I’d rather die trying my best than live with regrets.
By Shannon Pollard
©Summer 2012
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 8:19 PM UTC
I’m white and black
I am Belizean
I remember feeling like a prisoner
Locked up inside my own mind growing up
I believe in God because,
He saved me from major surgery a couple of months ago
I value trust and honesty because;
I didn’t see much of it in my family and neighborhood
I am from Belize City and Los Angeles, California
I come from God, He knows me better than I know myself
I learned how to fight through boxing class,
Now I back up what I say
I am ambitious because,
I am the loser that slipped through life’s cracks
I’m like an Octopus:
I multi task, I’m persistent and clever
About how I peruse things I want
I’m filled with joy and when I wake up every day
I am a work of art,
Chiseled from marble and granite
Shannon Pollard
©May 2012
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 5:32 PM UTC
This is for my mom and grandma
You guys have been in my life since birth
You taught me how to tie my shoes
When I had no father around to
Teach me the basics of how to be a man
You stepped up and did the right thing
When I fell off, my bike and I cried
Because I thought my arm was broken
You took me into the bathroom to
Get the rubbing alcohol and bandages
First-aid kit to fix my bruises and cut
But what was amazing was how safe you made me feel
By just saying that everything was going to be alright
You and mom have been the pillars of this family
Me and my 4 brothers learned that me mi ‘‘familia’’ is everything
In many ways we learned how to be men from you
I learned how to sew, wash dishes, bargain shop, ironing clothes and do the laundry
And clean up after myself and the house,
I know how to change a diaper and make a bottle from all those times that had to baby sit
My little brothers when you were working
I don’t know how to cook but I’m going to learn
Because you always told me that you need to know how to take care of yourself
What if you get a wife who doesn’t want to take care of you?
You would give me advice like don’t mess around
With a girl who has a boyfriend because you’ll get into trouble,
Respect everybody even if you don’t like that person
And finish school because nobody can take away what you’ve learned
You were right about everything that you said
I hope that when I have kids that
I’m half the parent that you guys were to me
Because you inspire me to create by making this family better,
You give me strength to fight by not giving up on me,
You showed me how to share love by showing me compassion
And I know how to have faith
By watching you live life facing your fears
You guys are the true definition of
What a strong, poor, immigrant women can
Become with a little perseverance
Happy mothers and fathers day
Because you did the job that 2 parents
Would have a difficult time with
I know that I don’t express my feelings a lot
But I am proud of you
By Shannon Pollard
© May 2013
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 8:06 PM UTC
Distill water is healing.
The moons voice manipulates the ocean,
By reaching and pulling away from the sand
the suns smile equips us with Vitamin C
The Water cycle is a universal enigma.
She starts of as clouds quenching our planet with:
Oceans, lakes, rivers, and water puddles
she evaporates into mist of waves
Camouflaging her family recipe in the sky,
While cooks up new baby clouds
its starts all over again like the tadpole evolution
even though we all take water for granted sometimes,
She still supplies our needs.
By Shannon Pollard
©Summer 2012
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 7:22 PM UTC
Some people see the potential in you
And some don't
Many who see it are jealous
And want to destroy it or steal it for themselves
Even though they can't have it
Because it's not meant for them
Some people have nothing financial or
Little material things to give you
But they got your back for real no matter what
They put their time, energy, respect and faith in you
Because they love you and see the greatness in you
Before you even knew you had self-worth
Or while you were at rock bottom
And some are just faking the funk
Pretending like they like/love you
They’ve been acting like something that they’re not for so long
That they no longer care about knowing who they really are
That fake smile never changes like the joker from Batman
Just leave those people alone and let that stuff be about them
I don't believe in a having a big homie
I Trust in a God, or a mentor
And I don’t care about proving
How black I am, how hood I am, or how tough I am
By sagging my pants, wearing a red or blue bandana on my head, hands, or in my back pocket
I don’t want to carry a gun, knife or
Talk trash when I know I can’t back up what I say, to protect myself
I know what it’s like to run away from your pain, guilt and loneliness
By covering it up with hate, *** relationships, **** hanging out gangbangers and having a bad attitude
That’s in my past and I hated that person
Now I’m about appreciating life and staying true to myself
A professor once said in my philosophy class
I don’t care if people think I am a good or bad person
Because people are always
Changing their opinions
Based on how they feel or what they’re going through
I once saw this quote in a movie
A Bronx Tale “There is nothing worse than wasted talent”
Don’t waste your time on things that aren’t important to your life.
By Shannon Pollard
© Fall 2013
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
Flexible old ladies
Extending their worn out muscles
Was first opinion about yoga
After taking class my life enlightened
Eyes contemplated the world
Push ups and sit ups is Kindergarten level
She requires all your mind and energy for full nourishment
Body bent like graph
She lifted my arms and legs into sky
While I pushed my body with force towards the ground
Thorax laid flat like a blue print
Back pulled up like crow bar
2 hours of meditating felt like two days in furnace
Filled with negative tension and tempting thoughts
All my problems expelled through my ****
She gave me the best love I ever had
Her tongue licked wax out of ears so I could hear truth
My mind was fighting against my body
Trying to escape this bomb *** high that made me feel like Jell-o
But brought back so many painful memories that I pretended to forget
That’s when she grabbed insecurity’s arms and whispered to me
“Baby, don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”
Her soft lips caressed my stiff brain down to my feet
Her breath massaged my bone marrow till I was unconscious
I awoke a healed soul
By Shannon Pollard
© July 18, 2007
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC
When I was younger I had an elder friend of mine
Named Denise Davidson
I asked her “why do some older folks
Like to put down younger people
She dropped a knowledge bomb on me
She said that adults have been torn down
By life and that’s why they try to tear you down sometimes
She also told me that I shouldn’t allow anyone to put me down
No matter whom it is, even if it is the President of the United States
Those words are forever tattooed on my heart
Even in my late twenties I still deal with haters
Trying to sabotage my blessings
They try to use me like I’m a slave
And when I confront them about an issue
They talk to me: condescendingly like I’m stupid,
Or say that I’m crazy, or they blame me for their shortcomings
But now instead of me acting ignorant by: cussing people out,
Hold my anger in till I blackout and forgot what I did, or threaten to **** somebody
I get even by doing better - by proving myself right
My mentor told me when people show you trash you show them class
So I get even by having integrity in my actions
Cause all those negative people want is to see me stuck in the same place
Stuck in a worse situation than them
Because it makes them feel good about themselves
And it makes their life look better than mine
Because misery isn’t happy unless it has company
By Shannon Pollard
©Summer 2013
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 7:48 PM UTC
*A Poeme from ye Penne of
ye right learned Professor Peter Buttocke
collected by hysse Pupille Edna*
There is an ancient Shittah in my Garden, eldritch and right dun in alle Aspect
Wherein dwelleth a loude and noisome Ouzel, ye like of which I have ne'er yet seen
Under thysse our goode Goddes fayre Welkin up in ye Skye above us alle.
This foule and unwholesome Beeste, with trespassynge shote-like ****** Effusiones
Hath performed ye veritable Antithesis of kindly horticultural Edulcoration
For whiche Sinne I shall emasculate ye Brute, so God may grant me Pow'r.
Sudating at ye Nostrilles I advance, my trustie Stang at ye ever-ready,
And I prepare to eject it from yon Pollard, having previous shattered
Alle its horryd Frangibles with one brave bolde frampold Blowe.
Thwacke! A last Piffero-reminiscent Warble escapeth loude from its fowle coronoid Appendage;
Right severe Damage and harsh fatal Ruine of Nature irreversible have I caused
To ye shaggie shamelesse little avian Runte, whereon Goddes smile hath ne'er dawned.
Thus descendeth it to the Faeces-bedecked Herdwick, and I titubate triumph'lly o'er its conticent Corpse.
And were there yet a duodenary Set of ye Frass-Depositors, I would not give a Demi-Testrel for their Survyvall
Should they e'er again infringe the sacred Privacie whych ye ancient Shittah enjoyeth in my Garden.
Jan 12, 2015
Jan 12, 2015 at 6:37 AM UTC
Dig deep poet;
You too reader;
Commandment One:
Both must obsess to possess,
Air the curvature of each line
shape with two hands, creasing and
no ceasing not till the air waves have filled
your flushed face with compressed comprehensions
You weep as you compose!
Good!
The well of tears where hid
the pool of emotions
in cavernous reservoirs
in the center of your
gravity,
needs a daily tapping,
a draining, a purification,
a quenching sweet and
raucous
where you dig, salted water will come
in the soiled, imperial but imperfect body/mind cappuccino,
there are swirls of treasures, sins and histrionics
that need discovery, expiation, expulsion,
when~then, object is surgically removed,
accept surging water will desoil,
and you can revel
in the revelation
of honest effort
Debate Commencement:
reveal, which, what and how
much, how much? how much?
(this reverbs)
what must be shared,
what must be reburied,
what must be refuted,
what must be reconstructed,
refurbished,
and what must be
demolished & deconstructed
ah, but as soul judge,
you hold yourself to a higher standard,
but in all of this but two constraints rule:
the quality of the recalled data,
the quantity of storage space delimitation
do not tease us with rivulets, nor bury
us under thunderous rushes of memories
spilling and cresting with a reek of abandon,
unless, you’re abandoning the memory en tout,
giving us your newly orphaned all innermost,
then, we must accept the product of your labor,
whether it be spoiled fruit or glorious
truth
Tuesday Apr 16
8:32AM
(the year of pollard, a/k/a 2024)
Apr 18, 2024
Apr 18, 2024 at 8:51 AM UTC
Sometimes I can't sleep at night
Because of my dreams
Makes me come up with these crazy schemes
Anger and regrets creep into my dreams
Turns Into nightmares when I run away from my tears.
Everyone just whispers and stares
Can they smell my fear?
It hits me like a glare in my eyes
Can they see my demise?
Can they see I despise myself and I try to disguise myself?
Hiding behind attitude and suppressed pain puts a strain on me
Drains away my youthful energy.
But not all dreams are bad
Sometimes relax and look at the sky
I’m a bird soaring away as I look down at my problems
My eyes begins to illuminate when speculating the world
Know they're is something is far beyond self and human desires
More than the stars in the sky
Wondering how far can I go?
There are no boundaries
Just have to keep belly empty and head full of dreams
I am who I want to be
I define myself.
By Shannon Pollard
© 2006
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 7:14 PM UTC
IF ONLY YOU KNEW HOW MUCH I MISS YOU
SHOULDN'T HAVE DISSED YOU I WOULD TAKE IT ALL BACK
IF I COULD JUST KISS YOU ONE LAST TIME
SHOULD HAVE LOOKED AT THE SIGNS WAS SO BLIND.
HOOKED UP THESE RHYMES TO SAY HOW I FEEL
INVITE YOU INTO MY MIND
DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES A DAY I THINK ABOUT YOU?
HOW LONELY I AM WITHOUT YOU
MY EMOTIONS SWING FROM HAPPY TO SAD.
WISHING I WOULD BUMP INTO YOU
SO I CAN SEE YOUR STYLE AND SEE YOU SMILE ONCE MORE
SOMETIMES I DONT WANT TO HEAR YOUR NAME OR YOUR VOICE
SO I HAVE TO MAKE A CHOICE
I CHOOSE TO FORGET YOU EXIST.
EVEN THOUGH IM NOT ALL TOGETHER WITHOUT YOU
YOU CAN'T SEE HOW THIS PAIN IS MAKING ME HYSTERICAL
IT’S A SHAME
GUESS I PLAYED TO MUCH GAMES
YOU WENT FOR THE FAME.
LEFT A STAIN ON MY CHAMBERED WALLS
IT HIT STRAIGHT IN THE MIDDLE LIKE A DART
WE LOST OUR SPARK BUT I LEFT MY MARK
I WAS THE FIRST TO GET TO YOUR HEART
YOU ALWAYS REMEMBER YOUR FIRST AS YOUR LAST.
IT’S NOT EASY TO SHATTER LIKE GLASS
EVEN IF IT’S THE PAST
THESE FLASH BACKS GOT ME WISHING YOU WOULD COME BACK TO ME
LOVE CAN’T BE HIDDEN UNDER A COVER.
IT CAN ONLY MAKE YOU THOUGHER
CANT BE BOUGHT OR BE TAUGHT
YOU FIND IT ON YOUR OWN
YOU'LL KNOW IT WHEN YOU SEE BECAUSE YOU'LL FEEL IT
YOU CAN’T FIGHT IT SO YOU CAN ONLY ENJOY IT.
IF YOU KNEW HOW HARD IT IS TO LET YOU GO
WITHOUT LETTING YOU KNOW EXACTLY HOW I FEEL
EVERY TIME I TRY YOU MAKE ME WANT TO CRY
DIFFERENT TIMES YOU PASS BY I WANT TO DIE
WE CAN’T BE FRIENDS
BECAUSE MY REPRESSED FEELING IS STILL THERE.
Shannon pollard
January 1, 2007
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 8:45 PM UTC
I write because if I don't
I would literally die go insane
From all the drama that life
is putting me through right now
I'm dealing with most of it on my own while
keeping everything bottled up on the inside
I can't make certain people listen to me
or care what I have to say
If it wasn't for writing
I would have never found out what my talent is
I always wondered what my purpose is for being alive
Am I just going to be another black
statistic with a chip on my shoulder
Not caring about myself or others,
just doing things that gives me quick gratification
Not knowing that I was
destroying myself internally
with drugs and alcohol,
or trying to satisfy this void
in my life with money .
I don't know
what I would do if couldn't write
This pen, paper and these words are the only
worldly things I can depend on.
There is never any
backstabbing or mistrust going on,
writing picks me up when
I'm down.
Shannon Pollard
© Summer, 2007
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 8:35 AM UTC
Sitting down all day just thinking doesn’t accomplish anything
Thoughts without action is no reaction
It’s waiting around contemplating about problems
But not doing anything to solve them
You have to think before you speak or write
Before you get on that mic
You strategize about what clothes to wear before you leave the house
Every day is a decision made with precision
Day dreaming is just dreams
Until it turns into actions that speak louder than words
Do something towards your goals
Before your old age takes is toll
Because trying to survive in this cold hearted world isn’t easy
But actions made just on emotions
Without thinking or planning
Leads to destruction of any production
So choose what’s best for you,
Wait on God as much as you can,
Stand for something so that you won’t fall for anything,
Always make a decision knowing
That the choice was your responsibility not someone else’s
Shannon Pollard
© May 12, 2007
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 5:37 PM UTC
I can’t complain
2My parents, grandmother and all my brothers are alive & healthy
I have a place to stay, clothes on my back,
Food in the refrigerator, socks and shoes on my feet
I can’t complain
I don’t have 4 babies kids that
I’m struggling to take care of
I don’t have any baby mama issues in my life
I’m not on the Maury Povich show because some women
That I slept with want me to take a blood test
I can’t complain
I have working arms, legs, eyes, organs,
And I can breathe without a an oxygen mask
I don’t have any mental or physical diseases
I’m not on probation, CCP
And I don’t have a misdemeanor or
Minor misdemeanor on my record
I can’t complain
I have 2 bank accounts with money in both of them
I have Jesus Christ and lots of other people who love me
I’m like Tony the Tiger from the
Frosted Flakes commercials
Yelling: I feel great
By Shannon Pollard
©Summer 2013
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 7:46 PM UTC
My mind has a million thoughts per second everyday
One of those seconds it dwells on you
Why you so cool, girl?
My heart defrosts when I see your pretty face, voluptuous
lips, black silky hair
And hear your soft, innocent voice
You get on nerves
I Wanna just leave you alone like everybody else I can't
stand
You never let things go
Knocking the walls I set up in this maze
You saw through all the smog and haze
Caught me on all my ********
Why do you consistently keep trying
Where someone else either wouldn't have given a **** or
would have given up?
I can count on you to always be there to bug the hell out
of me
Until you get to the bottom of the situation
Not because you want something or to make me feel bad
But because you cared to stare darkness in the face
We might have a lot of issues
We argue a lot
It don't change how we feel about each other
Regardless of what people think
Just wanted to say that I love you, my one and only
**** other people
We have spiritual attraction that is worth more than ***
I wanna be with you forever if I could
Shannon Pollard
© Fall, 2006
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 8:11 AM UTC
. Today walking around town I met Alfred, my father, the pianist
he had gone very old his alpaca jacket was now too big for him.
Time is a cruel master he had arthritis in his hands could not play
Anymore, except in summers when he played the piano for the old.
at homes were where the washed-up of stream of life rested
before crossing the river Styx, he could have moved into a home
but preferred to rent a little room in town.
Alfred, my father, the pianist was often cold he could only switch
on the heating for a short time in the evening, and I remembered
a time when I followed him around town saw him cross the street
And traffic stopped when I did that I was shouted at; once I fell over
a pollard he helped me up and said: I'm not your father but since
you need on I can be one, and the strange thing was he only showed
up when I was alone. In a shimmer of tears, I saw him disappear
I knew I was not going to see Alfred, my father, again.
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 11:36 AM UTC
-
feathered smudges like a floor spatter from
Jackson Pollard covered the lanes underneath
an old L&N railroad overpass where flocks
of pigeons used to **** from above
tiny pellets were sprinkled along the
rail banks & eager beaks pushed aside
large stones to pick out these "yummies"
which slid easily down the throat
causing vacant, fixed pupils
it is about thirteen foot-six inches from
the bottom of the bridge to the street,
hundreds of detached eyes looked
aimlessly from the pavement
for a sky to rise in
motorists rolled up the windows as they
approached for a finishing pass, hoping
maybe they would all eventually wash
away with the rains
i see a morning dove landing on my
porch railing, it's tiny black lenses
zooming into me through the window
causing me to think if maybe there is
a talon or a couple of small bones
embedded tread-wise into my tire
a vision now manifests some
thirteen foot, six inches away—
_all those
eyes_...
s jones
2009-2021
.
May 4, 2021
May 4, 2021 at 6:28 AM UTC