Enduring the anguish of thinking… A Poem by Richard Lloyd Cederberg

 
“There was only the cemetery itself, spread out in the moonlight like a soft grey hallucination, a stony wilderness of Victorian melancholy.” (IN MEMORY)
 

 
How silently
And stern these
Straining days pass,
Where, at times, in open tyranny,
Scattered thoughts scramble
For measured application…
 
O dismay,
Each day
Embracing (the
Great word ‘WAIT’),
This (at times) tragic fate
Impelling the mind to reengage
With something other than
A wearied wide road
Worn smooth…
Another fluster putting glory on
[Hoping] to rediscover where
Newness is apparent, and where honest
Happiness is more than a shadow of things past…
 
Throughout life
(I’ve) known thinking
That piled-up (at times)
Like a day’s dead sanctities;
Thought-quakes pricked with panic –
Like vexed birds flailing on windowpanes –
Thoughts – in rising currents wild with leaves –
Trembling in trepidation at the tumults of the day,
But clinging to where Earth and Heaven meet crying:
O Burning Lion – Creator, from whom flows
The substance of all fresh thinking;
Help me bear this anguish…

    (II) AN APPEAL…

O breath of life…
Breathe on this mind that broods
(At times) so helpless and unnerved…
 
…From the utmost corners,
O divine breath,
Command my lassitude
To drift from me like a whisper
 
Preserve me from these penumbras
Where despair shrieks in the belly of clouds;
 
And, where from all dark-lipped furrows,
Hubris strolls in chatoyant silk
 
…From the four winds come,
O breath,
To breathe upon
These outworn motivations,
That this slain heart could rise up
To write rather of life than of death
 
… From the uttermost parts,
O breath of life,
Breathe on me that I might suspire
As an Eagle stirring its nest;
Hovering over its young;
Spreading forth its majestic wings
To carry each of them up to the high-places;
For it is your breath (alone) O God that sustains me…

 
 
richard lloyd cederberg
 
10/16
 
“Then the Lord God formed a man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.” Genesis 2:7
 
 
author-pic-2
 
BIOGRAPHY (10/2016) – Richard Lloyd Cederberg
 
Richard is the progeny of Swedish and Norwegian immigrants. He was born in Chicago Illinois. Richard began his journey into the arts at age six. For twelve years he played classical trumpet. But then, the British incursion of music (Beatles and the Dave Clark Five) influenced him to put down the trumpet to take-up acoustic and electric guitar, and, to write songs and lyrics. He toured professionally for ten years. In 1995 Richard was privileged to design and build his own Midi-Centered Recording Studio ~ Taylor & Grace ~ where he worked diligently until 2002. During that time he composed and multi-track recorded over 500 compositions and has two CD’s (‘WHAT LOVE HAS DONE’ and ‘THE PATH’) to his personal credit.
 
Richard’s interest in writing continues. His poetic invention confluxes integrative elements: history, parlance, alliteration, metaphor, allegory, characterization, spirituality, faith, eschatology, art, and subtext. Avoiding the middle-road; he takes advantage of diverse poetic anatomies including: Rhythmical, Poetic/Prose, Triolets, Syllable formats, Story-Poems, Freeform, Haiku, Tanka, Haibun, and Acrostic. Richard’s work has been (and is) featured in a wide variety of anthologies, compendiums, and e-zines including: Poetry Life and Times, Artvilla, and Motherbird. Richard was nominated twice for the Pushcart Prize.
 
Published books include:
 
The Monumental Journey Series (adventure/mystery/historical fiction) 1. A MONUMENTAL JOURNEY… 2. IN SEARCH OF THE FIRST TRIBE… 3. THE UNDERGROUND RIVER… 4. BEYOND UNDERSTANDING. A new adventure/thriller, BETWEEN THE CRACKS has been published. A new eschatological drama – AFTER WE WERE HUMAN – is being written. Follow the lives of several friends as a new race of ageless multi-dimensional humans comes back to Earth with their Creator to rule and reign for 1000 years.
 
www.authorsden.com/richardlloydcederberg
 
www.richardlloydcederberg.com
www.christianstoryteller.com

 
 
 
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Key of Mist. Guadalupe Grande.Translated.Amparo Arróspide.Robin Ouzman Hislop
 
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Janet Kuypers’ “How Music is Poetic” 9/3/16 song & poetry feature/show

      
    Below are video links from a September 3rd 2016 (9/3/16, or 20160903) music&nbp;/ poetry performance (with accompanying guitar and percussion music by John) of Janet Kuypers’ Austin poetry feature through Expressions 2016: September Song! at Austin’s the Bahá’í Center (at 2215 E M Franklin Ave, Austin, TX 78723) that incorporated poetry into music. This is why they started the set with their song&nbp;/ poem that they previously performed at the sold out theater show from Beast Women Rising 9/21/14 of her original Mom’s Favorite Vase song “What We Need in Life”, with her poem “Fantastic Car Crash&^#8221; nestled between verses two and three. To break up the guitar, Janet then performed her Periodic Table poem “Tin” (with Chicago locations changed to Austin Texas downtown locations, of course). But in this set the ended their show with her poem (set to John’s original song) “Made Any Difference”.

[tubepress mode=’playlist’ playlistValue=’PLYa-AZK78_hpUC67BirGUxelBeVYMJRkI’ ]

Before the show started she also released copies to most everyone there of a chapbook of the writings she was performing in her show (in the order they were performed), and all of the pieces from this reading were also released electronically in a “How Music is Poetic” chapbook, which you can download as a PDF file for free any time.

Read the poems and songs below:

What We Need In Life
with “Fantastic Car Crash” between verses 2 & 3
Tin
Made any Difference

        photo by Garrison Martt photo by Garrison Martt photo by Garrison Martt photo by Thom Woodruff

Plight. A Poem by Renee’ B. Drummond-Brown

plight-a-poem

You don’t get that right

To understand our plight


Were you there?

When that slave girl

Was ‘KILLED’

The very day,

They stole her away

 

Were you there?

When that slave girl

Was bound

Shackled and chained

Cow bells on the neck

That ‘rang’

 

Were you there?

When she rode that vast ocean

On Noah’s waves

Of never ending rains

 

Were you there?

At ‘HER’ door of ‘NO RETURN’

Uneducated to your customs and ways

Wit’ an unfair playing ground while trying to learn

 

Were you there?

Standing on ‘dat’ Auction Block

At 14 years of age

As she watched

Dat’ Auctioneer’s gavel drop!!!

SOLD: TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER!

He’d say

To her dismay

ALL WAS AT LOST

Down to her family;

Just given away

FREE’ of cost

 

Were you there?

As she picked a bail,

O’ COTTON

Were you there?

When sorting out the bushel’s

That rotted

Were you there as she picked

All through her midnight

 

Were you there?

When she couldn’t give ‘Massa’

Any fight

 

Were you there?

When she warmed ‘Massa’

Anytime ‘HE’ wanted both day and/or night

 

Were you there?

When she ‘HAD’ to cast ‘ALL’ her cares

On a ‘god’

That she was ‘TOLD’ didn’t care

 

Were you there?

As she entered those back doors

 

Were you there?

When she was called a wench and then some more…

 

Were you there?

When she was kicked to the ground

Like Christ,

Got back up

And never made a sound

 

Were you there?

When she had to eat slime and hogs

 

Were you there?

To watch her treated less than a dog

 

Were you there?

When mixed babies came from her

 

Were you there?

When she begged ‘Massa’ to keep ‘do’s’ chillins’ in ‘dat’ dear dirt

Plus for ‘da’ one’s not belonging to her

 

Were you there?

As she watched

So many ‘HUNG ON HIGH’

 

Were you there?

When she stood tall

At it all

Never allowing to cry

 

Were you there?

While she couldn’t tire, sleep nor snore

 

Were you there?

When she polished silverware

Plucked string beans

While

Cleaning on hands and knees

O’ those ‘HATED’ hardwood floors

 

Were you there?

When Missy lied on her

 

Were you there?

At her foul treatment

Far less than dirt

 

Were you there?

At her rape(s), beatings and cries

 

Were you there?

As she wondered

IF’

God even cared

Let alone was alive

 

Were you there?

When she prayed to just die

Were you there?

When she ate

Humility pie

 

Were you there?

At worship

While sitting in ‘dat’ balcony

Asking permission

To use ‘BLACK ONLY’ facilities

 

Were you there?

When ‘dat’ slave girl

Was KILLED

The day they stole her away

And

You have nerve to wonder why???

You don’t get that right

To understand

Our’ plight

I’ve been there

CAUSE’ SHE LIVES’

In ‘da’ ‘STEAL’ of my nights!!!

 
 

Author: Renee’ B. Drummond-Brown

(Authored: Renee’s Poems with Wings are Words in Flight and

SOLD: TO THE HIGHEST BIDDER)

Dedicated To: Black History Month

All Rights Reserved@2016

No part of this poem may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without written permission from the author.

 
7478-email

 

Biography

 

I, Renee’ B. Drummond-Brown, am the wife of Cardell Nino Brown Sr. and from our union came Cardell Jr., Renee and Raven Brown. I am the offspring of Mr. and Mrs. Peter C. Drummond of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. My siblings are Delbert D. Drummond and the late Pastor Shawn C. Drummond. I was born in North Carolina, at Camp Lejeune US Naval Hospital. I am a graduate of Geneva College of Pennsylvania, and my love for creative writing is undoubtedly displayed through my very unique style of poetry, which is viewed globally. My poetry is inspired by God and Dr. Maya Angelou. Because of them I pledge this: “Still I write, I write, and I’ll write!”

 

Renees Poems with Wings are Words in Flight” is flown across the seas by God’s raven. There are several Scriptures that I love; however, this one speaks volumes during this ‘season’: “And he sent forth a raven, which went forth to and fro, until the waters were dried up from off the earth.” (Genesis 8:7 KJV)


 
 
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EXCESS HUNGER. A Poem by Steve DeFrance

 
 
Early in the morning
the day after Thanksgiving,
I bleakly regard my fellow patrons,
squeezed from surrounding tract homes.
 
They had nudged out & stumbled away
from frightened lives.
They stand at the restaurant wall
looking at grease splattered
“Especials.”
These accidental victims of excess,
butts bulging, thighs dropping,
ruminate on pancakes or burritos
chorizo or bacon, tacos or tuna salad
eggs with hot chili. or coffee, tea, or Cerveza,
 
They order—filling an emptiness,
jockey for a seat overlooking a sea of hybrid
station wagons plastered with “baby on board” signs.
These folks dying of cancer, or filled with divorce,
or worse yet, homes infected with lies that kill,
homes of infidelity, homes of indifference,
homes one plots to leave,
homes with children without parents,
or worse yet–with twisted parents
looking ordinary—but living on rape,
or blood or tears on the mattress,
as suns come up & moons go down.
 
You don’t know how to love them,
or pity them. They simply are—and they leave
no apologies for their pain, your eyes glaze over,
as you too stare at the parking lot.

 
 
steve-defrance

 
 

Steve DeFrance is a widely published poet, playwright and essayist both in America and in Great Britain. His work has appeared in literary publications in America, England, Canada, France, Ireland, Wales, Scotland, India, Australia, and New Zealand. He has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize in Poetry in both 2002 and 2003. Recent publications include The Wallace Stevens Journal, The Mid-American Poetry Review, Ambit, Atlantic, Clean Sheets, Poetrybay, Yellow Mama and The Sun. In England he won a Reader’s Award in Orbis Magazine for his poem “Hawks.” In the United States he won the Josh Samuels’ Annual Poetry Competition (2003) for his poem: “The Man Who Loved Mermaids.” His play THE KILLER had it’s world premier at the GARAGE THEATRE in Long Beach, California (Sept-October 2006). He has received the Distinguished Alumnus Award from Chapman University for his writing. Most recently his poem “Gregor’s Wings” has been nominated for The Best of The Net by Poetic Diversity. for further work by Steve De France see Poetry Life & Times & www.motherbird.com

 
 
 
 
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Poems with Art | Poems by M. Earl Smith | Art by 3valynn

poems-with-art

M. Earl Smith, is an undergrad at the University of Pennsylvania.

He brings poems that were paired with abstract paintings composed by a three year old artist who works under the pen name “3valynn”.  You can view her artwork and the book HERE.

Violet Frenzy

 

Violet Frenzy

The drums sound the song

Of battle, intense, inviolate

Caught in a storm of color

A frenzied storm of violet

An enemy thus unseen

Blind to the naked eye

What is this that should be?

Our destiny we cannot deny

So on the brave soldiers march

Into the shroud of darkness

Mindless to political demarche

The time is upon us

This war, however

Is not built upon hate

Only love, now and forever

Shall be humanity’s fate

Some battles are fought

Over space, resources and land

Some people are sold and bought

For whatever the world commands

But this is a tale of joy

A poem of unrequited love

There is nothing in the deep violet

That can force this undone

Diamond Candy

Diamond Candy

Every girl’s dream

A jewel that she can bandy

A woman’s best friend

A piece of diamond candy

The light refracts the jewel

Fracturing the light about

Show it to all her friends

Her diamond candy she will flout

Pink and blue the colors

That tell us who we are

Yet every girl knows

Diamond candy shines like a star

White line, twisting path

Of which we must explore

Every girl begs

Diamond candy, give me more!

So if you want to know

A way to a girls heart

You have to know her favorite

Diamond candy, thou art!

Primary Ambition

Primary Ambition

The dawning of a new day

A chance to start anew

The path of a middle way

Colors, fresh and true!

Paint touches canvas

Giving us something fresh

No need to have planned this

Art put to the test

Each color with a meaning

This art, pure emotion

Creativity through is seeping

A muse that demands devotion

This art, an unnamed feeling

Joy and serious, true

An artistic endeavors dealing

A talent held by few

There’s no way we can know

An artist’s true intention

One thing for which we must go

Is their primary ambition

Snow Queen

Snow Queen

Her title

Betrays the trust

That her subjects have

In her

To do her best

To care for them

To protect them

To do what’s right

To do what’s fair

To do what’s just

So, the snow bears down

Blanketing the land

In a sheet

Of the purest white

It does so

Only at her command

So that the children

Can play

In snowdrifts

As high as city walls

And spend their day

Lost

In a cloud of white

Summer Daze

Summer Daze

Summer daze

Bright color craze

Try to change

Trying to say sane

Colors love me

Orange and peach cry

So in love

With the summer sky

Summer daze

Covers the town

No chance to laze

The king needs his crown

Makes me happy

Makes me free

I can’t wait to see

What it’s gonna be!

Summer daze

Lights up my eyes

Makes me smile

As the evening dies

Come tomorrow

It’ll return again

Then we’ll be

Off to Neverland!

Streamers

Streamers

The ticker-tape parade

Rings in the new year

Time to celebrate a year from another day

The air full of streamers

A joyful celebration

Of a time a year ago

A time for utter elation

As we await the future to unfold

The colors fill the air

As the party carries on

Life is all but fair

As we sing that ole happy song

Hugs to go around

As we love our fellow man

A bright, joyous sound

As life, it seems, starts again

So let’s ring that old bell

And gather once again

Sing it over every hill and dale

The new year has began!