|
Jackie R. Kays
http://jackiekays.purpledream.com |
Lost Love
04/01/03
|
Oh! How I wish for the sun, sea,
and the raven hair beauty that once use to be.
We danced and sang and loved on the
sandy beaches, near the open sea.
We captured time in a bottle
and threw it into the deep blue water.
We slowly sipped our glass of wine,
and laugh at the silly things we did
each time we use to dine.
But our love was not to be.
For you see.
On a cold rainy night in Barcelona,
my darling fell ill and suffered from
a devastating chill.
A gossamer winged Angel
came in the dark of night,
and took my raven hair
beauty on a heavenly flight.
I can still see her smiling face,
surrounded by white Spanish
lace and feel her loving grace.
The lonely months have turned to years,
but that hasn't stopped the flow of my
daily tears.
I wish I could find that
bottle floating in the sea
and turn back time.
for her and me.
So that raven hair beauty in her
lovely white gown could hear
those cathedral bells chiming
that beautiful wedding sound.
|
| |
 |
Ode To The Queen Of Hearts
04/07/03
 |
The Royal Princess lies quietly now
robed in a flowing white gown as the
world mourns her passing from Old
London Town.
A Bouquet of lovely white roses
makes up her heavenly crown.
A flood of tears will fill the
ivy covered towers and the cries
of the mourners will echo from
town to town.
She may have been just a Princess
to some, but she will always be the
Queen of Hearts for most.
Few have made their mark in this
old world in such a short time.
She will be remembered forever
in song and rhyme.
No one can explain her untimely fate.
But, everyone will recall this tragic date.
The Princess will always be remembered as
the shy, young and beautiful Royal Queen
of Hearts know as Lady Di.
Who's life was cut short and
made us all cry.
|
| |
|
Massada
04/15/03 |
|
In the year 73 AD
High above the wind swept Judean desert floor,
overlooking the dead sea, stands the fortress of doom.
For below on the sun baked plains, fifteen thousand
Centurions prepare to make their final assault
at noon.
A thousand patriots lay dead or dying from their own hand,
rather than surrender to the yoke of Rome's homeland.
For three long years the Patriots stood defying the Roman
tyrants to the end and fought bravely.
But now.
all preferring death over slavery.
Long live freedom.
no matter the cost!
|
| |
|
The Door Of No Return
(House of Slaves-Goree Island-West Africa)
04/22/03 |
 |
They came by the thousands, flowing in a black river of pain, all bound in rusty shackles and chain.
Their weeping and moaning still echoes in the bloody halls of that infamous house of horrors.
Their freedom crushed, bondage is there for all their tomorrow's.
Their lives were about to change forever, their bodies and souls were sold for a handful of gold.
The West Winds filled the sun bleached canvas, as the large wooden hull lunged through the thick sea foam.
All that could be heard was their little sobs and horrific moans.
The horrors of the trip, would soon be traded for the sting of the Overseers whip.
On the block they stood, side by side, young and old.
Their families split, when the auctioneer yelled. "SOLD!"
Tears stilled flowed from their ancestors souls.
Their culture lost forever more, once they walked through that foreboding door.
The door of NO return.
|
| |
|
We Need More Poets
07/06/03 |
The world needs more poets and
fewer criminals, lawyers, politicians,
and critics.
Poetry south's the soul,
and steals no one's gold.
Poetry is honest and cost
a lot less than attorney's
fees at best.
Poetry doesn't deny
or lie, and requires no
pledges or donations
to get by.
Poetry doesn't instruct, criticize,
or tell you how or what you should be.
Poetry is music, word painting,
and the inner-sanctum for our souls, you see.
Anyone can be a criminal, lawyer, politician,
are a critic, but it takes a poet
to write a poem about the beauty of a tree.
|
| |
|
Guess What?
07/15/03 |
It's snowing again,
slowly at first, but now
it's falling in small flakes,
that quickly turn to rain.
From the dark clouded skies
the bitter cold winds blow
through the barren oaks.
There's no budding leaves,
no blooming flowers, just
dripping water that soaks.
No sunshine, no warm breezes,
no scampering squirrels, no robins,
blue birds or humming of bees.
Winter is still here,
and my soul is tired.
My aging bones ache
with the pain of my
satire.
Time is running out, and all I have
left to do, is set around and reminisce
about those days forgone.
Ah! For those days!
The bright warm sunshine, the white sand and dark blue sea.
Oh! I can still see her standing in those crashing waves
and see her raven black hair flowing in the summer breeze.
No one will ever know the love we shared and the life we lived.
That was a long, long time ago.
Oh! Melancholy me!
I think I'll have another glass of wine.
Guess what?
It's still raining.
|
| |
|
Where Have They Gone
08/02/03 |
They use to stand tall,
and represents us all!
Decency, honesty,
tolerance, dignity,
pride, self esteem
and morality.
Love for our fellow man.
Time to give a helping hand.
Pride in our flag and for
what it stands.
Have we relinquished our basic principles for;
Greed, self indulgence, dishonesty, child abuse,
drug abuse, brutality, rape, murder, hypocrisy,
fear, hate, indecency, thievery, envy and jealousy.
Where's the teachers,
the preachers, and
the parents?
What's happened to
kind hearts and
gentle people?
Where have they gone.
Gone with the wind!
|
| |
|
A Dreary Winter Day
08/25/03
|
It's a cold, cloudy, gray day.
Snow flurries drift aimlessly
to the ground, and
freeze where they lay.
It seem winter is here to stay.
It's late afternoon. The house
has echoed silence from within
all day.
The clock chimes four.
Dark shadows begin to
appear on the kitchen floor.
As silence, loneliness,
and sadness slowly
creeping my way, it makes me
wonder if I can get through
another cold dreary winter day.
I may grab my hat, and never look back.
Florida is warm and sunny everyday.
so they say!
|
| |
|
I Dare Not Tread Where Angels Fly
09/05/03
|
I've been to both ends of the world.
I've seen fire and ice,
I've gambled my life
on one roll of the dice.
I've held the hand of the devil and
looked into his hypnotic eyes,
while enemy bullets searched
for my demise.
I've see death, destruction,
starvation and unadulterated fear.
And for that, I've shed
more than a single tear.
I've fought loneliness,
sadness of depression
and the desire to die.
But, death by my hand
I can not abide.
For I dare not tread
where Angels fly.
For some unknown reason
I am still here and for that reason.
I must stay alive.
until the Ark angel of death arrives.
|
| |
|
Into The Valley Of Death
11/02/03 |
Rally around boys.
Speak not to me of retreat, surrender or defeat!
Sound the charge loud and clear for we shall
Send the enemy to hell where the devil they
Shall surly meet!
Forward Lancers! Charge!
Straight ahead boys! To the pickets
We shall gallop! Flag-man keep the
Union Jack flying steady, so the enemy
Shall know we are bound and ready!
Through the smoke and canon fire they bravely
Charged, six hundred strong into the Valley of Death.
Where they fiercely fought one on one and
English blood ran deep on that frozen battlefield forlorn...
For Queen and Country.
Forgotten not.
For the echoes of bravery will forever sound.
Forward Lancers. Charge!
Inspired by: Tenyson's "Light Brigade"
These are my thoughts on what happened
on that infamous day in 1880.
|
| |
|
