To Let The Heartbeat Speak

Thoughts as deep as the Mariana Trench,

Skin as smooth as Alabaster.

Arms from which I can never be wrenched,

A soul that’s filled with laughter.

 

These things, and more, I could use to describe you,

But alas, they fall short of fact.

They limit your grace, they restrict your beauty,

And I would never ever want to do that.

 

So instead, I’ll allow my actions to convey to you,

Just how much you mean.

I’ll allow my kisses, my beating heart,

To express how you’ve polished my soul clean.

 

And if, per chance, these aren’t enough,

I swear I’ll strive to do more.

I’ll sing, I’ll dance, I’ll paint, I’ll write,

Anything to make your spirit soar.

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The Beggars On The Street

She’s Young,

She’s White,

She’s A She.

 

I Am Touched By Her Sign And Spoken Pleas.

I Empty My Pockets Of Change,

And Pour The Coins Into Her Outstretched Hand.

 

Why?

 

he’s old,

he’s black,

he’s a he.

 

i recoil in horror when he looks my way.

i lower my head and walk on past,

pretending I can’t see him.

 

why?

To His Parents

Oh Father! Dear Father.
What a woe-filled song you’ve sung.
But now you’re banner’s flying high.
The war you’ve fought is won.

Your prize is near!
Your crowds are here!
Your people all exulting!

What say you then?
You son of men?
Deny you them their calling?

Oh Mother! Dear Mother.
For strength I’ve looked to you.
On stormy days you cleared the skies.
You made them bright and blue.

You sang the night!
You gave me flight!
Through dreams which clouds did cover!

What say you now?
You sullen sow?
Hate you still my lover?

I know you will not answer.
I know what’s in your head.
I know that you don’t want to think,
I’ve fallen, cold and dead.

Fade Away

I dreamt a dream in which I was blind,
In which color and form were left far behind.
A dream where details were shrouded, as with a veil,
Where B’s became P’s, and screws became nails.
But not once in this fantasy did I fall prey to fear,
Or drown my face with self-loathing tears.
For I knew that the Earth was still beneath my feet,
That the sun was still bright behind the clouds filled with sleet.
See, I had a guide; a teacher, you might say,
Someone who helped me carve a path through the fray.
A person who showed me how I might reach the moon,
Who gave me the wherewithal to visit Rangoon.
A figure who’d stay with me beyond my dreams,
A friend, so glorious, that her soul simply gleams.
And it is to this person that I’d just like to say,
Thank you,
I love you,
Please, never fade away.

Perception

Nothing, and I mean nothing,

Is steadfast in this life.

Not even the sun.

 

I know, for I have looked into the

Heavens. I have seen for myself.

The Sun that rises here is different

From the Sun that shines elsewhere.

 

How it washes out color and texture,

How it steals the sweat from my brow,

All are unique to this place.

All are unique to this now.

 

Note: I wrote this poem while participating in a creative writing program at Columbia University. It was later published in a student produced literary journal, “Nifty Shades of Beige.