Iris (a Lanturne Poem)

Bloom
Fragile,
Grape – scented,
Lovely, short-term
Bliss

Beginning on the floor in child’s pose,
You curl up, comforting,
Before confronting
The barriers to your liberty.
Climbing to table pose,
Sitting back up to
Stir up the setbacks;
You brace yourself.
Transitioning to warrior pose,
Arms stretched wide
To knock on opportunity’s designer door,
Recently painted persimmon.
Rising up to mountaIn pose,
You stretch, leaving fingers lingering
To get a feeling of the glass ceiling
That once covered your hope.
Breathing in, ribcage expanding,
Reminding you of your strength.
As you exhale, a long breath of epiphany
Makes you realize that you were
never
in a box
to begin with.
Snow in April (Cinquain)

Graupel—
Bouncing pellets—
Is it snow, hail, sleet, or
Spilled styrofoam filler beads?
Spring ice
Spine Poetry (“written” at the public library)

Encapsulated Embryos,
Mostly made of water molecules
And protein—
The recipe for life.
Done up, brown,
Dressed in Protoporphyrin—
Stylish, soulful specimens individually;
Captivating and charming collectively.
Varying in size and shade,
Parallel in nutrition and wealth
Six of one,
Or half a dozen of the other.
Disciples, with baskets of copper yolk
Standing at attention.
Microscosmic
Fruit of
Gallus.
I was making a spectacle,
Dread detectable.
I had to step back,
Wipe my eyes and mind,
To see what I could find,
Align my spine—
Find out if I even have one left.
I found myself cyclical,
Continually cynical,
Questioning you,
And avoiding the reciprocal.
In retrospect, I must confess,
That while inspecting
the speck near you
I was ignoring the plank,
Driven like a stake,
Through my own vision.
I need time for introspection,
To review what is written,
Change my mission.
No need to defend
my position
because,
When I look back,
and look again
(Re)connecting—
(Re)specting—
I can see
That I need
To adjust my view
(And maybe my thinking),
Though I’ve no inkling
How to begin.
Any aspect of respectable
That can be found feasible
From your spectrum,
Your perspective,
Can’t undo the reprehensible—
Even if it was not intentional.
Pardon me for being skeptical—
My questions unacceptable—
But I’m trying to find a way
To get back on the pedestal.
So, I’ll pay my respect,
But why does it have to be
So costly?

#BlackoutPoem #NaPoWriMo
This was written on April 1, 2016
Ode to Kwame Alexander (aka Lemme ShakeYour Hand, Sir)
Oh, Kwame—
With your wonder words—
Laying lines of rhyme,
Preying on prepositions in their prime:
Outside the cage,
‘Round with rage
With, or without, wage,
Down
the
page.
Within the winsome,
Surrounding the sweetness,
Hanging with the hope.
Throw me a challenge.
Amuse me with your musing.
Confuse me until I see.
Wind me up with wondering.
Word to your words.