Poems, poems and more poems, catching up on the poem a day challenge, enjoy! #APRPAD

Day 14 The Family Island

If my family is an island

I am the large palm tree in the center.

Providing shade from the sun,

and protection from the rain.

and nourishing food

for your body mind and spirit.

If my family is an island

it is inhabited by beautiful wild beast

to be trained and tamed

before releasing them unto an unsuspecting world.

If my family is an island

we are surrounded by peaceful blue waters,

warmed by the gentle rays of the sun

our skin glistens

as it is baked

to a beautiful golden brown

If my family is an island,

I am the gentle breeze

on which words of wisdom

flow softly into your subconscious

allowing life’s lessons to be learned with love.

If my family is an island,

I am the majestic seagull

gliding in the heavens

cooing

loving

watching

as you grow.

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Day 16 Death

Death walks down the dusty road

His gnarled and knotted staff by his side

Taps a sinister beat along the path

As he approaches

He is cloaked in black

only his skeletal hand is visible,

I know death is just around the corner.

I am not ready.

I watch my dad grow weaker everyday

His face is drawn

He forgets to shave

His steps are a slow shuffle

Not his usual jaunty pace,

He has no joy

He sits on the couch,

remote in hand steering at a black screen

Feet swollen, skin stretched , shiny

a mere shadow of his former self

breath raspy

a death rattle in his chest

He coughs but cannot clear

Death from his throat

I think he knows

Death blows his icy breath into my window

The once white sheer panels,

now grey with age, flutter

Goosebumps on my arms

From the chill.

I shut the door

A pitiful effort to escape

The inescapable

To avoid

The unavoidable

Conclusion of his story

I beg and plead,

I plead and pray

For death to give

Me just a little more time

To make plans

Arrange things

To make everything alright

To prepare the children

For the inevitable

“Is he really sick?” They ask.

“What’s wrong with him?”

They look for strength where there is none,

for I am just as weak as he.

Death whispers my father’s name

I cover his ears so he cannot hear

Its sweet, seductive, peaceful call

so many of my loved ones

answered all too soon.

I am not ready,

But death waits for no one.

Not even me.

********************************************************************************

Day 18 To be True to the Game

My heart breaks

Watching our young black men

Dying in the streets

Smoking weed

Dropping out of society

Before they have given themselves a chance,

To be true to the game

Never realizing that life is not a game

Thousands of tears she’d by mothers at graveside

People are hurt

Broken

And cast aside by the game

While you hustle in the streets

Peddling your wares

With an entrepreneurial spirit

That could be put to better use elsewhere

Eager for fast cash

Fast cars

Fast women

And even faster money

Why risk your life,

Your freedom,

And your family

Being true to the game you cannot win?

I’ve heard our young men say

“I’m rea!”

“This is how I roll!”

“Gotta make that money!”

Fist pounding their puny chest

Pants saggin’, hat turned to the side

Standing wide legged and blurry eyed

Pockets temporarily fat

Thinks carrying a gun makes you a man

Weapons do not make the man

Nor fame,

Nor clothes,

Nor diamond chains,

make you true to the game.

A real man

Takes care of the thing of value

His family,

Education,

His life.

To be true to the game

You have to have knowledge of the world

Wisdom of the ages

And a strong dose of common sense

To be true to the game

You need to be true to yourself

While acknowledging your creator

Look in the mirror

Look deep inside your heart

Find the light within

Shine it in the darkest part

Let that light guide you

On a path of righteousness

Restoring your soul

Stop playing the game

And reach some real goals

The game in the street is played hard and fast

There is no winner

Roll the dice, lose your life

To violence or a prison cell

One way or another

To the street

Where I lost my brother.

In memory of my brother Eugene D. Wyatt 1978-2006 AKA “Hot Dog”, and all the other so called players who lost their way and the game.

Copyright 2010 by Lexi Flint

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Filed under April Poem a day challenge, poetry

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