This Thing Called Love

What is this thing called love?  Is it the best thing that ever happens like Gladys Knight and the Pips say, or is it like a cool breeze that brushes across your face?

Perhaps love is that thing that causes one not to be too proud to beg - or is loving you easy because you’re beautiful?

What is this thing called love?  Is it the color of amethyst or black diamonds and pearls?  Does it taste like sweet chocolate and cream?  It is a love jones?  Is it the feel of your hand on the small of my back?   Like the sound of your voice.  Is it like when I argue just to hear you speak?  Is it the sweetest thing I’ve known?  Perhaps it’s that thing that Stephanie sang about?  Sweet Sensation, or is it Fire and Desire?  Is it Ooo La la la? Is it simply giving you something you can feel?

What is this thing called love?  Is it like a black butterfly, soaring across the waters?  Is it the thing that causes life to have direction now and a clear point of view?  Is it that thing makes it easy because you love me, baby?

What is this thing called love?  Is a secret rendezvous?  It showed up during a time when nobody is supposed to be here.  I tried that love thang, for the last time I said.  So here it is.  What is this thing called love? How did it get here? Am I trapped by this thing called love?

March 31, 2012

(Excerpt from ‘Beautiful Black’)

Trinidad

The rhythmic sound of a nation, black faces, red faces, white faces.  A melting pot.  The center of the earth.  The gathering place for many.

The rhythmic sound of a nation, dialects, slang, secretly coded messages that make up the fabric of the people.  

The sound of the music.  The beat, the pounding of the drums.  The piercing sound of the horns almost becomes deafening.  The rhythmic sound of a nation.  The sound of the horns, the chatter, clang, bang, bang!!!  Such noise from the disquiet in the soul of the fabric of a nation.

The hustle, the bustle, smells of spices, urine, people sleeping in the streets.  The scream of a nation.  

The sudden quiet that overcomes the rhythmic sound of a nation.  Another day passed, another day experienced.

Tomorrow comes again. The rhythm continues.  The rhythm continues, the rhythm continues.  

(March 24, 2012)

(Excerpt from ‘Beautiful Black’)

Wonderful ME!

who am i that i should think

that i should be

or even smile

what gives me the right

to dance and twirl 

to dip my hip

to feel the sensuous beat

to see the sunlight skip across the dawn

who am i that i should think 

that i should be

or even smile

what gives me the right

to sing and crescendo 

and sound like crystal

who am i that i should think

that i should be

or even smile

what gives me the right

to lift my eyes

and spread my arms to embrace myself

who am i?

i am just me

wonderful me, flawed though i may be

i have the right to be just me

      Selah!

(March 2011 - Excerpt from ‘This is Me’)

Cushite Nation, Arise

 

 

Arise, this is your finest hour

The dawning of a new day

Arise and take your place

Fulfill your destiny

Shake-off the sack cloth and ashes. Put on the garment of praise

How shall they be led?

Except ye Arise Cushite Nation, Arise

Remember when God called you and set you above many as Kings and Queens

Remember when God anointed you and called you Great

Gird up your loins

Remember not your captivity

This is your finest hour

This is your time in the kingdom

Arise Cushite Nation, Arise

Miss Edith

There is wisdom in her

The way she surveyed the room sitting proudly in her seat

I knew that behind the gentleness in her smile there were years of hard learned lessons

There is wisdom in her eyes

The knowledge and the stories that she could drop

I would love to sit at her feet with my head on her knee as she speaks her story gently to me

There’s wisdom in her face

Not in the lines that crease it but in the regal way she walks into the room

The past and the present came with her

I saw the future in her too

There’s wisdom in her hands

They way she gracefully folds them in her lap,

I wonder how many babies those hands have gently caressed, how many braids have been platted with those graceful hands

I saw the past, the present

and the future in her too

There is wisdom in her.