Though I feel confident to spell
And do such things as words demand
To draw my dreams before they die
One thing I never understand
But notice how and wonder why
I find my fingers feel all thumbs
And I feel stupid truth to tell
Facing figures summoned by sums
Beyond what I can count by hand
As syllables of poetry
Which soar yet never seem too high
These are the figures I can face
They seldom are more than fourteen
Or less than four or in-between
Fourteeners and in-betweeners
Pentameter and ballad-rhyme
If you know me you know I mean
I count these all day all the time
With my self-confidence in place
Yet when such mathematics comes
As figures the fiduciary
I hide and wait for it to go
Since it could not have come for me
Avoiding like an evil spell
No matter who thinks what is true
That which I have no hope to know
In favor of that which I do
To draw my dreams before they die
Whose numbers lift me to the sky
To speak these words I spell (for you)
Still Living on my Feet is the follow up to Tichaona Chinyelu’s first book, In the Whirlwind, which was rooted in a sense of hard-hitting revolutionary black love. However, in this sophomore effort, Tichaona brings the revolutionary essence from deep
A people’s heart can be found in their poetic words. In history men and women have stood firmly upon their soapboxes and street corners, rallying the deepest beliefs of people to rise up and be heard. The poetrypages.com has offered that voice a new
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