DARRYL M. GWALTNEY-BEY-71

FERTILIS

In the winter, when I am bare;
Rising high into the air...

After an adorably colourful Fall;
I hold my head and still stand tall...

Weathering storms;
In skeletal form...

Freezing nights;
Days of fright...

Waiting patiently for the spring;
When nests on me begin to sing...

Lush green coat blowing in the wind;
For summer is here to begin again...

To Touch Society

To touch society with my being and feel it in my soul;
explore every aspects, from pole to pole.

Walk the streets, or go to a park;
contribute something positive to make my mark.

Hang-out with some friends, party and talk;
visit my family and sit on the porch after it's dark.

Meet someone special; window shop at a mall;
go to a movie, ahh just do it all.

Swim in the vast blue ocean, or run down a sandy beach;
bathe in the golden sun while gulls soar and screech.

Drive down the avenue, feel the wind on my face;
blow my horn at a pretty girl, appealing to my taste.

Watch the children running and ripping;
blasting my music, with a brew just sipping.#

See the chicken frying in the pan;
eat my favourite foods umm, ah man.

Sleep in my own bed, oh what a delight;
touching society, even the dream is A L R I G H T!

BIG Sentence

Words that are easy on my ears, it appears that my pronunciation may be wrong, so my fears to speak the eloquence I seek can never be obtained if I remain the same and do not change the frame of mind that causes me to be misunderstood, confined to the hood, doing little, or no good to better the conditions for me and my son, or the generation to come, just hum drum and mephitic, better off to just quit it, because the tenacious speaker is not bought - words are vehicles of his thoughts, one intangible the other in frangible but both are manageable when not persiflage by sounds that camouflage the meaning, or bug me with hugger mugger, sucker definitions and stymie perception with alexithymia because the cacography lack stylography and gives horripilation followed by inclination to pursue silence even develop a misoneism where phoneyism takes the form of a word written or heard.

BORN

I came into this world not crying aloud;
The son of mistake not parents staring proud.

He ran away, she chose to stay;
There is no happiness on this birthday.

For him my conception was a moment of pleasure;
For her I became her most valued treasure.

Suffering, misery, struggle and strife;
These are the play-things of my life.

Just another Black baby to die in the street;
Where the game is played and mothers weep.

Is Poetry

Inspiration to give?
Free-flowing expressions of the life we live.

Motivation to rise from our past;
A present to share, a future to last and last.

Configuration of deep though;
The clearest human knowledge that experiences brought.

Vibrations that you and I can feel;
Words from the heart to make the world more real.

Exploration of inner meanings so spilled souls;
To reveal what's concealed in ways that hits-n-holds.

Sensations that reach the depths of our being;
Crystallising plights, opening eyes and seeing.

Recitation... Communication... Imagination...
Manifestation... Elevation... Above and beyond.

Realisation to enlightenment and creation...
Creation... That's what poetry is:

Creation; sounds reverberation into creation.