Bri Edwards' Early January 2022 Showcase Of 7 Poems By Various Poets....[ Sharing Poems ] Poem by Bri Edwards

My 'Showcase' Task & My Requests To Readers

It's not as easy to assemble poems (I like) each month to share with YOU.
I mean it's not as easy as it USED TO BE for me, but I do find a FEW.
It's partly because of a loss of some of my favorite poets on this PH site.
This is partly due to some changes on PH, from which they've taken flight.

Some of the poems are from current members, some from poets long gone.
Some may be enjoyable for you to read; others may cause you to Y...A...W...N!
Whether you like one OR dislike it, feel free to message me or poet. THANKS.
And if you have any suggestions for me, let me know, but, on me, play no pranks.


Bri Edwards

January 10th, 2022


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1 -

(oh Jesus, There Went All The) Money


Don't need new sneakers
‘cause you'll never find your feet
Don't need no lock ‘n' key
You got the worst house on the street
You gambled everything
And got busted, broke and beat
Your luck was runny
Now you got no money

Don't bother makin' up yo mind
You got no choice
You got no pull, got no sway
And you ain't got no voice
No rainbows in the sky
Under which you can rejoice
It's not too sunny
When you don't have money

So you traced your evil
Back to its root
And fully resisted
Forbidden fruit?
Well ain't you clever
And ain't you cute
Why you haven't offed yourself,
I can't compute

Some people set aside
Retirement pensions
Some people stay awhile
In houses of detention
You have success -
It's just in a state of suspension
Ain't fate funny
When you don't have any money?

Hit the bricks, pal
You couldn't close a window
Couldn't hit water if you fell from a boat
Couldn't keep up with your shadow
Looks like you'd better
Get used to this gutter -
A far cry from the meadow
Full of fawns and furry bunnies
Now that you've lost the money


Keith Dovoric Monday, December 6,2021

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2 -

A Brown Girl Dead


With two white roses on her breasts,
White candles at head and feet,
Dark Madonna of the grave she rests;
Lord Death has found her sweet.

Her mother pawned her wedding ring
To lay her out in white;
She'd be so proud she'd dance and sing
to see herself tonight.


Countee Cullen

Monday, October 6,2003

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3 -

Magic Mirror?

If I look in the mirror
And myself I do not see
Does it mean that I'm not really here,
That I have ceased to be?

Or am I just a spirit
That eyes cannot perceive?
If I but try, can I be seen?
Need I only believe?

Have I become a vampire?
How does that legend go?
I see myself and then I die?
No, that just can't be so!

It feels like I am in a dream;
I surely must exist,
Else I could not have thoughts like these;
I really must persist.

Oh, one day soon I'll 'find myself'
As that old saying goes.
Ah, here at last there is a start:
Now I can see my toes.

Magic Mirror?


Kim Barney

Saturday, March 21,2015

Topic(s) of this poem: fantasy, magic, spirit
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4 -

Regarding My Poem: (Book # 1) : Sheila And Clifford: 'hello! '... Etc....[ Chapter One Of Book One, Posted On PH 2014; Each 'Book' Has Chapters ]


As I entered the resort condo I'd be sharing with a stranger,
I couldn't help wondering if there could be some danger ….
from signing up for a two weeks stay, sharing (to have less to pay) …
with a woman whom I'd never met, BUT I could do it, my mind did say.

I'd seen her photo on the sharing site and we had emailed twice.
Though I knew little about her, … online she certainly did seem nice.
An accountant, unmarried, no children, …. non-smoker, and no pets.
With separate bedrooms and baths, ….. how difficult could it get?

Probably I'd spend most of the stay working on my book,
in a seaside cabana, ….. and at night I'd read and cook.
She'd said she planned to sightsee, do a little shopping.
Nights she planned to eat out, and then do some barhopping.

I‘ve never been married, ….. though I've been tempted twice.
Bachelorhood for me works quite well; I think it's rather nice.
I'm not a prude by any means: I do date, though rarely.
Sometimes in a conversation I hold my own …....just barely.

When I picked up my condo key, I learned she had arrived.
As I entered and saw a suitcase I thought 'so far I have survived.'
Then I heard Sheila call out 'Clifford, I'm in the kitchen. Hello! '
I responded 'Hello, Sheila. To which bedroom shall I go? '

She stepped out into the living room, and I felt a bit of fear,
for Sheila was holding a cocktail, wearing only panties and brassiere.
'My stuff is in the second room, but you can have your choice.'
I would have said 'I'll take the first one', but I ….could not find my voice.

She smiled the sweetest smile....I'd seen in many a year,
and said 'Oh, Cliff, don't mind me at all; there's NOTHING to fear.'
I gulped and returned her smile as best I could; at least I tried.
Then I checked into the first bedroom, trying my embarrassment to hide.

I'd always been shy around the 'fairer sex', since I was a kid.
I freshened up in the bathroom, unpacked, and came out from where I'd hid.
By then she'd put on a short-sleeved blue cotton shirt,
and a floor length, slightly-see-through, yellow skirt.

'Sorry if I shocked you Cliff. Do you mind me using 'Cliff'? '
I said, 'Uh, no, Sheila, please excuse me. With strangers I can get stiff.'
[As soon as I said 'stiff', meaning 'uncomfortable', I knew my face would redden.
The silence then between her and me was so heavy it seemed
leaden.]


Bri Edwards

Wednesday, January 5,2022

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5 -


Happy New Year 2022


The last petal fell from the flower
A chapter closed
A year came to an end
Year 2021, we say you good-bye
Joy and sorrow, ups and downs
passed into history
We are waiting for
Another bud to open
A new flower to unfurl.
A new year is coming
with hope and happiness
Let us greet the Year 2022
With all cheers.

02-01-2022

Bharati Nayak

Saturday, January 8,2022

Topic(s) of this poem: new year

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6 -

A Song For Freedom


Come all ye bondmen far and near,
Let's put a song in massa's ear,
It is a song for our poor race,
Who're whipped and trampled with disgrace.

Chorus.
My old massa tells me O
This is a land of freedom O;
Let's look about and see if't is so,
Just as massa tells me O.

He tells us of that glorious one,
I think his name was Washington,
How he did fight for liberty,
To save a threepence tax on tea.

Chorus.
My old massa, &c.

And then he tells us that there was
A Constitution, with this clause,
That all men equal were created,
How often have we heard it stated.

Chorus.
My old massa, &c.

But now we look about and see,
That we poor blacks are not so free;
We 're whipped and thrashed about like fools,
And have no chance at common schools.

Chorus.
Still, my old massa, &c.

They take our wives, insult and mock,
And sell our children on the block,
Then choke us if we say a word,
And say that 'niggers' shan't be heard.

Chorus.
Still, my old massa, &c.

Our preachers, too, with whip and cord,
Command obedience in the Lord;
They say they learn it from the book,
But for ourselves we dare not look.

Chorus.
Still, my old massa tells me O,
This is a
Christian
country O, &c.

There is a country far away,
Friend Hopper says 't is Canada,
And if we reach Victoria's shore,
He says that we are slaves no more.

Chorus.
Now hasten all bondmen, let us go
And leave this Christian country O;
Haste to the land of the British Queen,
Where whips for negroes are not seen.

Now if we go, we must take the night-
We're sure to die if we come in sight-
The blood-hounds will be on our track,
And wo to us if they fetch us back.

Chorus.
Now haste all bondmen, let us go,
And leave this
Christian
country O;
God help us to Victoria's shore,
Where we are free and slaves no more.


Anonymous Americas

Monday, April 5,2010

Bri's Notes: 'massa' refers to a slave-master/owner, or one managing the owner's slaves, referring to slaves in 19th century 'America' I believe

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7 -

Warning


When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.


Jenny Joseph

Friday, January 3,2003

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End of this showcase. Thanks to all poets and readers. Until....next time!

Bri Edwards

;)