the final part to:
A Japanese Garden n' America
another lovely picture from the book
"Reflections of the Spirit" by
Maggie Oster
The hours closing in around us
And my body gets weak
My tears make a stream look like some slob coming from a child mouth
And my body aches
Please don’t take him away
See I had it all planned out
If they saw the love I had for you
Then they would feel it too and just let you leave they would just let you leave they would just let you leave but it was no good
and my body got weak I couldn’t stand to my feet
and you were so worried
and I know I said I would be strong but you knew I wouldn’t all along
and you said “baby, it won’t be long come on now, we got to go, be strong”
and my tears fell harder cause how can you ask me to do this? How come you can do this?
I try to turn away from the words
That you say
But I couldn’t move
Had to make every moment count
And I have lost the only ounce
Of sane-ness I had left in me
To you…….
Father help me!!!
Sampson shatter these walls
Baby do it for me
Baby please do it for me
And I keep on fallin’
And the stillness, the coldness, the puddle in my eyes
Are making me blind
Why?
And they take you away
And the guards don’t hear a word
That my heart is saying
And they don’t hear that my mind is praying
And one of them even thinks it is funny
That I can’t get up I can’t move
When they took you they took me too
When they took you they took me too
And now here she comes
Kneeling down on the floor
Cause that is where I am
face down
On this concrete ground
Surrounded
If only I could have talked to you
And you listened
If only you could have believed what I would go through
If you had listened
If only you didn’t believe
That shit you were listening to
Wanting to be a baller, a shot caller
Wanting to make your own existence
On the black market
Being a black man
Covered in black dreams
That doesn’t ever end as good as it seems
Them olds cats lied to you baby
They lied!!!.
Empty little old me riding a bus
Filled with broken dreams
Cause of our niggas scheme
To make a living…..gone wrong
And I ride pass open waters
And open skies
And open concrete like the concrete
That made me a shadow of a woman
Reduced me to clinging to a ghost
That I get to hold once, twice, three times a year?
And my tears fall empting my body of it all
And I try to stop this fall
But I can’t
I can’t
I
Can’t
A fitting finale to your strikingly original, and too painfully relevant, trilogy. We don't pay enough attention to the bridge that spans the river of consciousness between emotional intention and emotional reality. This trilogy provides a useful portrait of that bridge, making the reader stop right there, making them look, and listen, and feel.
heart wrenching, achingly beautiful in the visual portrayal. the heart experiences so much in this one poem. please take care to share again (via spoken word because)...it simply is needed to help others uplift and be healed.
Just trying to gather myself enough to be able to review, Mitzi, and I find, right at the bottom, Jerry has already said ALL of what I am feeling right now - which is completely staggering. Never here before have I ever thought to write of feeling totally drained and exhausted by the ability of the writer to draw me into such intense and raw passion of life and death... and to find that somebody else feels the same way enough to comment. But it DOES indeed show your graphic power as a writer to take us to be exactly where you are in this poem, even if we have never experienced its like before. Your writes have such a cinematic quality to them as well. I feel like I have been taken through the climactic points of some great epic with your pulsating slices of life. Bless you and thank you for such an awesome gift that you share. Kate xx
To touch a soul, a mind must be able to see beyond the words created by others, build an image that lives in the heart explodes like a bomb
Detonated by life. Your words fill vacuums of age, seen in places many would not dare to go, so wrenching is the experience it crosses all barriers, beauty is not the picture, it is the soul felt and spent, in your garden lives the life of hope reach from past to present. Walt
Emotion pours from each word and into the reader's conciousness--the reader will think on your writes long after they've read them. Hopefully change will result for having read your words. Thank you for being real. :)
You are such a champion for your cause Mitzi.This whole series has been stunning! It leaves the reader, as Jerry says, worn out from the
ability you have to make your struggle transfer through your words to our hearts. Superb series!Kudo's
etw
Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader)
Reviewed on February 4, 2005
Stunning writes. Kinda about a world with in a world.
Wow
this is raw and painful!
Like a mini movie or a glance into such a private hell.........
that started on the road of love......
gripping to say the very least!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
you are some writer!!!
pax........A
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Reviewed on February 4, 2005
Damn, Mitzi, after I get through reading your stuff I am worn out, and that's a fact. You gave it your all here, didn't you? Yes. When you can communicate to others and make them feel just a little bit of what you WANT them to feel, then you can rightly be called a poet. Poetess? Whatever. And you did just that here with this, the very best of your Japanese Garden poem. Gotta go now and take a deep breath.
I can't stop weeping, at the lost of love, life and dreams and at the cost to the character in this 3 part poem series of "Free Fall..." Well done, Mitzi, well done.
Yankee Doodle Daddy is a historical Appalachian Family Saga. The story follows a mother's reckoning as she struggles to survive and keep her four daughters alive.
Exploring the impact of literary icon Flannery O'Connor's noted legacy on the cultural realities of modern-day America, the world, and a certain author.
Ron
Oh, Lord, girl. Who can tell you anything adequately enough to pay tribute to the power of your own words? The entire trilogy is bodacious.
LOL
Detonated by life. Your words fill vacuums of age, seen in places many would not dare to go, so wrenching is the experience it crosses all barriers, beauty is not the picture, it is the soul felt and spent, in your garden lives the life of hope reach from past to present. Walt
Love Tinka
Felix
TRASK
Emotion pours from each word and into the reader's conciousness--the reader will think on your writes long after they've read them. Hopefully change will result for having read your words. Thank you for being real. :)
An excellent series--
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla. :(
ability you have to make your struggle transfer through your words to our hearts. Superb series!Kudo's
etw
You sure have given me a new insight to America.
Parts I can see are superficial. Others are deep.
this is raw and painful!
Like a mini movie or a glance into such a private hell.........
that started on the road of love......
gripping to say the very least!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
you are some writer!!!
pax........A