© 2014 Eloquently Speaking
P. O. Box 2979, Upper Darby, PA 19026 | email:Eloquentlyspeaking@gmail.com | call: (484) 374-7852
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Dare To Be Different
The Poet
& The Poem
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A PRODUCT OF ONE
As the heat exudes from the flames in our hearts, we draw close then unite
The blaze flickers, the wind tries to smother us... but something keeps us lit
Bystanders stand by and watch in awe as they attempt to quell the mystery
Our emotions promote agape torches as we drift together...
And fuse into new
shapes of… us
Our bodies drip sweat akin to hot wax...
pheromones and hormones create our moans
The universe dictates that we morph...
thus we surrender together in a smoldering, luminous kiss
As the embers flutter about the sky and the crowds ask us why…
we continue to endure?
When the flames do not remain, the smoke burns their eyes...
finally they must surmise
How do we continue to grow and burn with vigor?
The solution is as clear as day & night
The flame is gone but they smell the vapor, the smoke dissipates...
our heat… still prevalent as our essence is omnipresent
The aura of our union will permeate the universe...
And society will be scorched by our fire!
No longer objects or beings, we have unequivocally....
exited to Exodus
and we exist as....
a product of...
ONE!
© 6-2014 Christhegifted
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D. Christopher Harvey
Tears For Mama
a lump formed in my throat
contained tears soon escaped
the core of my heart smiled
but I couldn’t fight the pain
which turned into new joy
I wish Mama could see me
the tears became a stream
thoughts became a dream
which suddenly came true
the stream began to dry up
the lump began to disappear
a soft voice whispered calmly;
“I was there, I see U, I love U!”
I looked toward the Heavens
contained tears soon escaped…
© Christhegifted 10-8-14Poetry
Chase your dreams and follow your vision.
I published my first book in 2012, Chris' Culmination.
It is a true must read,
available on Amazon, Kindle, and Createspace.
To purchase my second book,
"Surrendered Inhibitions" 2015
Please click on the button
NO VACANCY
The sign says "No Vacancy"
But here u are again...
Showing your face all in my space
I don't think your welcome BUT
you don't seem to care
I don't kick you out, yet...
you were not invited...
You did not RSVP so others....
well they took your spot
No hard feelings, no love lost,
animosity, jealousy or vengeance
on my part or the ones who replaced U
The sign says "No Vacancy"
but here u are again...
Please supply your new address
I'll send you a Rosetta Stone cause
clearly u don't understand English
I was never mean to U but I need to be firm
U can't keep runnin back & forth thru my head
Heard it before "I'm so this, you're so that..."
I'm different, you're unique, let's make a difference!"
We had the same goals and even dreamed in common..."
The sign says "No Vacancy"
U see a pattern here... My dear!
As magical, mystical, lovely, good and plenty
that U think we could be; At this point it's futile
We never touched, kissed, or even hugged...
Damn... your loss... I'm not recyclable like trash
So stash me away in the back or your mind
Better yet write my initials on a grain of rice...
Throw into a pit of fire, throw the ashes in the
deepest well and pretend that we never met
Please take the welcome mat, roll it up
and place it at your next stop... then
I'll call u a memory cause I can't forget U...
But I don't recall...
If I ever...
HAD
U..
The Poet and the Poem
She said she had no idea I possessed such talent.
Neither did I, but He knew… before the first line.
It was always deep inside; I just had to let it shine.
I know where it came from, not sure where it will go.
Like the plant in the soil, the light allows me to grow.
Don’t like to cause commotion or elevate my voice.
Prefer to do it this way – such an obvious choice.
Some people have read my work more than 200 times.
Do they know I have created more than 200 rhymes?
Creating poems is a gift or skill. It’s simply my craft.
It improves and evolves with every rough draft.
My strongest supporters remind me to be patient.
I write for the young, middle-aged, even the ancient.
Was once asked not to write but to say how I feel.
The lips can say anything; My written thoughts are real.
As Bruce was to nun-chucks and radiance is to the sun.
I am the poet and the poem… as we morph into… one!
©Christhegifted 10-3-14
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