Work Place, Equality and Freedom
We struggle with it
under many names;
we all feel the tension
and the tug-
how can I as a child
learn equality
and go to work
where
equality dies
in the bureaucracy-
a lonely stepchild?
Where in the hierarchical
schema chart
does Freedom live?
Where is Justice
in the work place Meeting With Staff?
No, we all have bosses
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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A Visit To Poemville
Come with me now
to visit the town
where all the Poems live.
There we have fine houses
carefully built
with words, verisimilitudes
and verbs;
wide open windows;
poetic friends waving from inside
some shutters are closed-
inhabitants moved on-
deleted.
Our streets
have funny names:
Heart Break and Bitter Regret
Love Lane and Candy Dates;
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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But On The Other Hand
Death is Bad;
but it is slimming.
Life is Good;
Except when it is Bad
Heaven is good
but it is too far away
and I wonder if there
is dating there
or marriage.
Why do Arab Martyrs
get 21 virgins in Heaven?
Where do they come from?
Dying is ok by me
I just don't want it to be unpleasant
and I certainly don't want to watch;
don't want you to watch either.
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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A Kiss Unrelinquished
A glint of light
flashed through her eye
flecks of dust too
floated there.
Words echoed in the air
and I could hear
her welling tear
howl like a sorrowful wind
in eyes which grew
narrow
from the question
which hung in
the thick gap
between question posited
and response given.
I was
a dust mote;
reeling
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Love Lights
The sun rises
sparkle fingers
aop the horizon;
my feelings are alive.
I tingle at the breeze of a single
butterfly wing
that is your touch;
dust in light shafts
come through
the window sill
stir
and float
above us,
I move to taste you;
perfumed still
from the surging night
and you loom above me
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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America Is An Idea
In the Rotations
of the Universe
periodically,
the Destiny Dial clicks
to that space
called Community.
Then all the world
celebrates
and weeps-
tears
which sparkle
and reflect
each hope,
each dream;
when we all plant
our Heart Flower Seeds
in the garden
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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How Long to Sky Blue? Rayletha
'How many days to sky blue
how deep is down under,
I wonder' she said
'What is up
because I have only seen different shades of misery.
When you call me I answer to 'never me'
because it is never me.
Never chosen, never loved, never given nothing.
Fat, female, black, no schooling, betrayed, lonely
every day in person and on the television
I am told I am the least of the least,
stereotyped, misused on sight and despised.
In me resides all the things they hate about themselves
on their inside
they is terrorized that if they don't eat their peas they will end up like me
and I say what is so wrong with me?
I am a human being
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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A Hand
First Love's Touch,
mutual gathering was only through them,
our Hands.
We poets celebrate
Hearts and Souls;
Love too wields magic,
but neglect too often
those stalwart two-
the human hands-
we're birth'd with.
Entwined most
in our Corporeal Destinies
yet hands occupy
in the Pantheon of Graces
a position lower than should be.
Consider birth's first
is a touching hand.
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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To Each a Season
Summer kisses Winter's Hands
thereby warming them
as she takes her hair
and wraps him
in the midst of the blowing gale;
her arms reach out
to his icy branches
giving a spark to each sleeping bud
awaking each from its frozen winter encasement.
But Winter's Heart
is cold indeed
whispering to her in her ministrations
'I am Winter and Winter is my fate;
from my icy cradle
Spring is born
and I must not miss her birth.'
Summer was angry.
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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May-December Kisses
She is a flower given
in summer time,
full of ocean-ness;
it's vastness swims
in her eyes.
She moves soft winds before her;
floating lightly;
shiny new
with a young soul
touched only by sentiments
innocent;
all experience her delight.
She has never known Mean Love,
only Love Requited.
Joy seldom comes to the Stapled Heart
and hers has never been.
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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