David Jackson

Fatigued | Poem

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Fatigued

By: Author Renee’ Drummond-Brown

 

All our lives us colored gals been attacked, raped, an hacked. Been called

ev’rythang, BUT… the child of God:

Negro, black, napped, ugly, bald and fat. And you know this;

this is fact! So.

What do you thank’ we care bout’ lil’ ol’ you

doin’ us in too? Never forget this…

When we are weak,

we are mightier than you!

 

“Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ’s sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong”

(2 Corinthians 12:10 KJV.)

 

“I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired” (Civil Rights Activist Fannie Lou Hamer.)

 

Dedicated to:

When a colored gal grows weary WATCH OUT she becomes Mandinka strong.

 

A RocDeeRay Poem

 

 

 

 

 

 

Other books by Renee’ Drummond-Brown:

~T.T.T. Book #6 launching soon. WATCH FOR IT.
~A B.A.D. Poem
~The Power of the Pen
~SOLD: TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER
~Renee’s Poems with Wings are Words in Flight-I’ll Write Our Wrongs
And
~e-Book: Renee’s Poems with Wings are Words in Flight

 

No part of this poem may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without written permission from the author. All Rights Reserved@ October 23, 2017.

Selected Poems By David Michael Jackson

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Selected Poems by David Michael Jackson

aaa poetryFeatures

David Michael Jackson

These poems and songs have been seen by many many thousands of people since 1997. Since then I have posted so many poems, songs and paintings that my fingers may have callouses. I have scattered them all over creation and this is an effort to finally have a page about me. People tend to find me with an individual painting, song or poem. My website, Artvilla.com is about those three subjects because they are my three loves.
I just hope my  poems and love songs bring joy and understanding to others.

Contact editors@artvilla.com

david michael jackson

Art by David Michael Jackson Modern Art Paintings and Images

 

 

 

 

girl asleep-02

 

Categories Uncategorized

Cycles | Poem | Renee’ Drummond-Brown

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Cycles

By: Author Renee’ Drummond-Brown

 

Momma told her not to do IT.

IT was done; she did not LISTEN

LISTEN to her, for what, and why, she too did it, AFTER-ALL?

AFTER-ALL, she had her at 16.

16, she, herself, should’ve been pristine CLEAN.

CLEAN as bleach on a summers CLOTHESLINE.

CLOTHESLINES, yeah, not soils hung out to DRY.

DRY stains. Tide can’t even get these out, nor CAN;

CAN a praise and/or SHOUT!

SHOUT it out!!! Should’ve been playin wit dolls, jacks and balls til 9:00.

NINE months to GO.

GO to jail…do not pass go til 18

EIGHTEEN-year BIDS.

BIDS her FAREWELL.

FAREWELL Momma says, “I told you so.”

 

Dedicated to: Recurrences

 

A RocDeeRay Poem

 

 

First Love Poem By Wislawa Szymborska

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First Love – Poem by Wislawa Szymborska
They say

the first love is the most important.

That’s very romantic

but it’s not the case with me.

There was something between us yet there wasn’t.

It transpired and expired.

My hands don’t tremble,

when I stumble upon small mementos

or a stack of letters wrapped in twine

—not even a ribbon.

Our only meeting after all these years

is a conversation between two chairs

at a cold table.

Other loves

still breathe deeply within me.

This one lacks the breath to sigh.

But still, just the way it is,

it can do what the rest are not yet able to do:

unremembered

not even dreamt of

it accustoms me to death.

Translated by Joanna Trzeciak

Miracle Fair Poem By Wislawa Szymborska

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Miracle Fair – Poem by Wislawa Szymborska
Commonplace miracle:

that so many commonplace miracles happen.

An ordinary miracle:

in the dead of night

the barking of invisible dogs.

One miracle out of many:

a small, airy cloud

yet it can block a large and heavy moon.

Several miracles in one:

an alder tree reflected in the water,

and that it’s backwards left to right

and that it grows there, crown down

and never reaches the bottom,

even though the water is shallow.

An everyday miracle:

winds weak to moderate

turning gusty in storms.

First among equal miracles:

cows are cows.

Second to none:

just this orchard

from just that seed.

A miracle without a cape and top hat:

scattering white doves.

A miracle, for what else could you call it:

today the sun rose at three-fourteen

and will set at eight-o-one.

A miracle, less surprising than it should be:

even though the hand has fewer than six fingers,

it still has more than four.

A miracle, just take a look around:

the world is everywhere.

An additional miracle, as everything is additional:

the unthinkable

is thinkable.