Poetics by Saphronia

I've had writer status for a week or so...thanx WorldWatcher for you prompt reply...I just been kinda gun shy I don't know why I share poems on other sites. Anyways a couple from me just to get a toe wet or suhmin.

I wrote these are for my Dad.

Edge of the Ring

I was raised on the edge of the ring
watching a king with no land
build a empire with his bare hands

19 years with his face in the dirt;
sweat on his brow; blood on his shirt
That was his work.

From the push ups,
to the heavy bag,
running till he couldn't stand

He said,
baby girl watch the clock;
cause the left is quick
but its the right they gotta stop

I look at him now slumped in his chair
His eyes all misty with that far-away stare
He's an OG in the fight to survive
Battered by his choices
Ripped apart by time

He was never a good father
Never good at much
But, that brotha could take a punch
When he stood in that ring
It was nothing short of amazing
His body was screaming

Who want it with Tom P. ?

Who think he bad enough to bump wit me?

Then, the bell would sound he'd run straight in
As if he was runnin late to clock in
He still says, pain pays
Even now in his lazy days

The retired fighter;
with his long legs crossed
snoring in his recliner
He kind of smiles in his sleep
He's earned those dreams

I learned what it means to labor for your dreams
Sitting on my mother's lap at the edge of the ring.

Water for My Father

He’s like a stain on my favorite shirt that won’t come out
He’s the type a person that would point that stain out
He’s got a hundred different smiles
His laugh is like the sun bursting through gray clouds

He’s too proud
He covets his denial
He’s six foot 4 inches of “I’m a damn child”
On my phone, when he’s all alone
When he needs to feel loved
When he’s running short on funds

Picture perfect face marred by hard liquor and disgrace
The weakness of my race-but he can’t be replaced

Sometimes I feel like his carbon copy
I’m unfaithful, selfish, vain, and cocky
I even hide behind comedy when life gets to sloppy

So yes, I'll call and check up
And yes, I’ll bail him out of jail when he gets locked up
for getting too drunk
or cussin out his neighbor for double parkin his truck

I’ll fetch the water to sober him up
Tuck him in bed and get one of those hugs.

Call em religis-isms or spas-outs.

Zero

Are you praying for a God
Avoiding your own thoughts
These words will fade into mere echoes
Still enduring longer than our tortured souls
Mending the hearts unspoken woes
Seems pointless when tragedy unfolds
We mistake fools gold for wisdom
Like we really know
How much could we truly know
When false truth is re-told'
and told...

Zero

Are you praying for a God
Avoiding your own thoughts
I ask you to do this over and over
Multiply life’s beginning
Add that to your memory
Subtract your lies
Time you waste just getting by
Or getting stoned
Or getting boned
Or laying a wake too scared to go on

Zero

Words fade into echoes
Still enduring longer than our souls
Are you still praying for a God
To avoid your own thoughts
Stealing so much you can't remember the cost
How much does it cost to breathe air
Let people know your really care
That your shoulders are strong
They can lean on them
This is what is here
No more praying for what's out there


Affects of Erroneous Instruction

Failing to grasp the concepts of my past
The reasons why we’re here used to be so clear
Now, knowledge lays fading, solace disrupted by retraining
Inquisitive in my youth assuming the knowers knew the truth
Who is God? Where is he? Why is he so high? Can he hear me?
Slave mentality Slave religion Slave reality Slave contentment
Daily prayer building daily resentments a daily sin needs daily repentance
Hearing the call of the deity but not comprehending the language it’s speaking
Inferior perception drowning out ones natural intuition
Seeds of destitute prophets bringing forth rotten fruit for profit
Strong minds figure out the game and refuse to play
God left behind his word of love gathering dust as we allow our faith to rust
Orange and brown full of holes what we thought we knew we no longer know
I became that inquisitive child again asking those same unanswerable questions
Who is God? Where is He? Why is he so high? Can he hear me?


TO LAND

All year long Jesus and me sat alone in a boat, fist clutching ors
an inch above six feet of water because I was afraid to row
In January, he smiled I screamed like a banshee
but, his expression was unflinching

He sat patiently through my insanity
Smiling back at me just waiting

In February, he smiled I yelled obscenities
told him He aint never did a thing for me
He aint never been a friend to me

He sat patiently through my insanity
Smiling back at me just waiting

In March, I cried constantly
muttering pathetic inaudible things

He sat patiently through my insanity just smiling at me,
I thought he has to be waiting for something

When April and May came, I philosophically explained
Jesus wasn't even his real name,
in truth we aint really even here
and I hear he's an alien or something damn near

He sat patiently through my insanity
Smiling back at me just waiting

In June, I thought it best if I shut up and smile back
But nothing came of that,
nothing! I had to crack

So in July, I went back to screaming
Begging him to show me the meaning
Why should I row?
How can I row?
I don't even know where to go!

August, September, and most of October
Months that came and went.
as we sat in silence
absorbing Indian Summer
watching the sun on our skin
paint pictures

I surrendered in November
And told the Christ I was a sinner
naming my sins took until December
It was full blast winter and approaching the new year
when he finally put the ore in the water
spoke with his first stoke:
"I'll lead if you follow."
and we glided into something new
something I wouldn't be able to bull my way through
some place beyond my tantrums and inner battling
to land. solid ground yall. to land


[edit on 9-3-2006 by Saphronia]

Beautiful!!! all of them. I enjoyed reading your poetry so now that your toes are wet, dive in!!