In growing older...the line to "special" is crowded.
Not Mya II
That I was niether Angella, Assata, Alice or Mya Never dawned on me till I was fourty-two And men no longer called me sweetie, But mam. And I watched them not for the ripple of shoulders Or buldged britches Pondered over daquaries and girl talk But for quiet compassions And eyes too polite to notice Varicose veins and prolapsed stomachs. Before then, I lived in a dream of 'special' me Only waking to find the line to "special"...crowded.
Early Works is an exhaustive compilation of the first decade of the poems and stories of Z.B.McClure. Included are family photos, rare personal photos, photos of 1st draft manuscripts of many of his early poems. Also some biography and memoir materia
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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Be safe,
Karen