Poem Hunter: Poems - Poets - Poetry

'Why keep a cow when I can buy,'
Said he, 'the milk I need,'
I wanted to spit in his eye
Of selfishness and greed;
But did not, for the reason he
Was stronger than I be.

I told him: ''Tis our human fate,
For better or for worse,
That man and maid should love and mate,
And little children nurse.
Of course, if you are less than man
You can't do what we can.

'So many loving maids would wed,
And wondrous mothers be.'
'I'll buy the love I want,' he said,
'No squally brats for me.'
... I hope the devil stoketh well
For him a special hell.
...

Women spend the afternoon squatting on the porch,
picking lice from each other's hair.
They spend the evening feeding the little ones,
lulling them to sleep in the glow of the bottle lamp.
The rest of the night
they offer their back to be slapped and kicked by the men of the house
or sprawl half-naked on the hard wooden cot.
Crows and women greet the dawn together,
the women blowing into the oven to start the fire,

...

I Was not Enough
I loved you with all I had,
A heart that never learned to let go.
I fought silent battles you never saw,
And stood beside you through every storm.

Though I wasn't perfect, my love was always true.
I gave you my best without holding back,
Yet someone else's little seemed enough for you.
Maybe I was never the one you wanted,

...

Others because you did not keep
That deep-sworn vow have been friends of mine;
Yet always when I look death in the face,
When I clamber to the heights of sleep,
Or when I grow excited with wine,
Suddenly I meet your face.
...

Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don't believe I'm wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

...

Savor the flavor
Red and green Lifesavers
Butter rum and bubble gum
I got to get me some

Some chick
Has got a death grip
On a Chick-O-Stick
Give me a Mars
or a Snickers candy bar

...

Rose-maiden, no, I do not quarrel
With these dear chains, they don't demean.
The nightingale embushed in laurel,
The sylvan singers' feathered queen,
Does she not bear the same sweet plight?
Near the proud rose's beauty dwelling,
And with her tender anthems thrilling
The dusk of a voluptuous night.
...

nothing will keep
us young you know
not young men or
women who spin
their youth on
cool playing sounds.
we are what we
are what we never
think we are.
no more wild geo

...

How will I spend my days
Every single days
I don't want to spend my days alone
Do not forsake my father
He is the man
That create all of us
Children of my Father
In his image
Many years image
We all look different from each other

...