Circle. Sister. Circle.
Let's connect and become infinite wisdom and love.
Allow me to be a link in your chain and take me with you.
Eternal.
I remember when poetry was fun, before the bullshit. When it was the four of us. In your kitchen, playing musical chairs. Wanting to be.... Before the road trips, before we gained weight and expanded, when it was simply a love for the words, and words for the love. When we wrote just to write. Before everything else. I wouldn't change today, but... I do remember when poetry was just(us) and it was fun... We may never have that again... but it doesn't stop me from remembering and wishing that we could go back there.... AGAIN
Sundays In Harlem
Jesus is on the main line, tell him what you want,
Jesus is on the main line tell him what you want,
You just call him up and tell him what you want...
I met him on a Wednesday, but it felt like an early, Sunday morning...
Lacy dresses, patent leather shoes and big bows on freshly pressed hair.
Hallelujahs, amens and hymns...
Like when I'm on my mission Lord, will you guide me?
I wanted him to guide me like in that ole time Negro spiritual,
'Cuz he was
Strong. Warm. Comforting. Welcoming.
Calling me home.
And like a good country Sunday morning sermon,
When the pastor has the hands swaying,
the white gloved gripped fans are waving,
With women dancing and shouting down the aisles.
He permeated the essence of my soul
I could feel his love all the way down to my bones.
He was my Sunday morning innocence...
Handkerchiefs with hints of peppermint and gardenia toilet water,
Running between pews, playing church, and smacking lint laced butterscotch candy.
While falling asleep with great grandma's arm draped softly around your shoulder.
In him I found a new religion
His smile, a song, teeth, bright as new ivory piano keys, his voice,
a melodic harmony, rivaling that of the heavens..
I know this sounds sacreligious,
But his love was heaven sent
Like a melody that I couldn't get out of my mind,
The child in me skipped rope while chanting and singing
Humming his name, through laughter and smiles,
Sunday morning, Sunday morning, Sunday morning
I met him on a Wednesday, but it felt like an easy Sunday morning.
Sunshine peeking through closed blinds,
A cool spring breeze flowing
Blowing the scent of warm love thru the air, while
kissing droplets of moisture beading on entwined bodies
Cuddling til the sun was past high noon
He and I are morphed and molded into one,
His arm wrapped securely around my waist,
A perfect spoon position,
For me there is no more mid week grind
In him I found a rejuvenated spirit.
Like my favorite childhood show,
With Nancy Drew and Hardy Boy Mysteries,
I welcomed the eve of Hump Day,
Remembering it was Anything Can Happen
He has renewed my faith in Wednesdays
Every time his name comes to mind and slips from my lips.
I say a prayer, God Bless Sunday Mornings.
Let's connect and become infinite wisdom and love.
Allow me to be a link in your chain and take me with you.
Eternal.
I remember when poetry was fun, before the bullshit. When it was the four of us. In your kitchen, playing musical chairs. Wanting to be.... Before the road trips, before we gained weight and expanded, when it was simply a love for the words, and words for the love. When we wrote just to write. Before everything else. I wouldn't change today, but... I do remember when poetry was just(us) and it was fun... We may never have that again... but it doesn't stop me from remembering and wishing that we could go back there.... AGAIN
Sundays In Harlem
Jesus is on the main line, tell him what you want,
Jesus is on the main line tell him what you want,
You just call him up and tell him what you want...
I met him on a Wednesday, but it felt like an early, Sunday morning...
Lacy dresses, patent leather shoes and big bows on freshly pressed hair.
Hallelujahs, amens and hymns...
Like when I'm on my mission Lord, will you guide me?
I wanted him to guide me like in that ole time Negro spiritual,
'Cuz he was
Strong. Warm. Comforting. Welcoming.
Calling me home.
And like a good country Sunday morning sermon,
When the pastor has the hands swaying,
the white gloved gripped fans are waving,
With women dancing and shouting down the aisles.
He permeated the essence of my soul
I could feel his love all the way down to my bones.
He was my Sunday morning innocence...
Handkerchiefs with hints of peppermint and gardenia toilet water,
Running between pews, playing church, and smacking lint laced butterscotch candy.
While falling asleep with great grandma's arm draped softly around your shoulder.
In him I found a new religion
His smile, a song, teeth, bright as new ivory piano keys, his voice,
a melodic harmony, rivaling that of the heavens..
I know this sounds sacreligious,
But his love was heaven sent
Like a melody that I couldn't get out of my mind,
The child in me skipped rope while chanting and singing
Humming his name, through laughter and smiles,
Sunday morning, Sunday morning, Sunday morning
I met him on a Wednesday, but it felt like an easy Sunday morning.
Sunshine peeking through closed blinds,
A cool spring breeze flowing
Blowing the scent of warm love thru the air, while
kissing droplets of moisture beading on entwined bodies
Cuddling til the sun was past high noon
He and I are morphed and molded into one,
His arm wrapped securely around my waist,
A perfect spoon position,
For me there is no more mid week grind
In him I found a rejuvenated spirit.
Like my favorite childhood show,
With Nancy Drew and Hardy Boy Mysteries,
I welcomed the eve of Hump Day,
Remembering it was Anything Can Happen
He has renewed my faith in Wednesdays
Every time his name comes to mind and slips from my lips.
I say a prayer, God Bless Sunday Mornings.
kdtaylor, 2004
Section 8 Coffee publications
All rights reserved
6 comments:
The bullshit is always hard. And I know I wasnt one of the first, but I know and you know. I loooove me some words.
I love the smooth melancoly of this peice.
*sigh*
thank you for the conversation today...thank you for your words...thank you for your authenticity...thank you for your perspective...
i appreciate your friendship more than i'll probably ever be able to accurately and adequately describe kimberley. my hope is that i can ALWAYS do for you what you do for me...
Sinsae! lol. I have a blog spot now too. Just got it so not really literate with it yet. Just wanted to let you know I'm here now.
Love ya much
Just wanted to let you know that I have a blog now. Please be patient with me as I am not totally literate to it all...but I'm learning.
i know i wasn't one of the firsts either, but ...yeah.
what did u change in this piece? seems to flow better and hang in the air ever so much more sweetly.
cousin: we just wanna write, spit, and not have to deal with anything else.. ya know?
angel: always. i am learning so much. thanks you.. thank you. circle sister circle.
ebony: first autin, then the world. thank you.
'chelle: not so much firsts, but just the idea of being a place to escape. change is evident, so it's not so much an escape as it is.... no the piece hasn't changed.
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