It is World Day of Poetry and also Poetry Tuesday and so today, I share with you a poem. Hope you enjoy what you read. This poem is entitled World Day of Poetry.
I am an able-bodied
woman of Haitian descent
who has shaken off fear
and now able to present
genuine affection for
the world which I toil free;
I unfold for World Day
of Poetry.
Here I am; the tiger
burning bright.
I’ve lived under the
thinnest of moonlight.
Stains of ragged
footprints of time that changed the lamb.
The fuel that keeps me
alive like that of William Blake’s hand.
Learning from every conundrum,
abuse and stains left on my skin.
Reason bursts like a
volcanic eruption and here we go overthinking.
Google maps can’t look inside
my heart to see the lava.
The lively Shakespearean
madness in me, some consider all drama.
But my past however does
not encapsulate my individualizing.
Creativity and Poe-ish passion
make this caged bird sing.
An early morning dream;
lit torches that unearth a laugh.
Necessary maintenance help me grow on this writing path.
And the special
circumstances that make me focus on my lot.
Each person’s song and
dance; the work that makes their hearts stop.
I sing of the world I
see around me like Emily Dickenson wrote her logs.
It’s world poetry day,
so here is a poetic throb.
Some may have been
hoping to see rants of politic trump.
Some may have wanted to
read a movie thumb.
“Sing”, yes I loved it!
“Get out” was a great view.
Some of Langston Hughes
works still read to me as brand new.
Nikki Giovanni and
Wheatley pieces bring peace to me too
like a long island iced
tea over ice soothes.
But here I am with this
song and dance echoing nothing but music
and then I see a
firetruck in the ocean that brought on some amusement;
trying to put out the
fire that was burning inside of me;
trying to extinguish
the passions that make me breathe.
Trying to rescue me from the icy pond on which I walked
Trying to stop me in my path from lyrical talk.
Now the spring is here and my journal is out
and I'm writing about the world, love and the boycotting of winter a lot.
I’m sizzling still and
world poetry day just added to the furnace.
I’m a poetess and any
form of writing gives me purpose.
About writing
When I write songs, I write it somewhat like a poem,
counting syllables and trying to make words rhyme to make it fit. Shakespeare made
me love to write. Hughes made me love to read. Music gives me wings to fly. I
sing because I’m happy and free. I wrote songs because my poetry gained flight and became a butterfly.
