I scribbled something on a piece of paper today and shoved it into my pocket; then showed it to my co-worker….This is what it said. “I stopped writing for a while…consistently…and I ached all over. It almost darn near killed me. No can do again. It doesn’t matter now whether someone wants to steal my work….not meant for me to hide my light under a bushel, but shine my light before men…and women. It doesn’t matter whether I’m depressed or marooned on an island….I can’t let the words escape from me. I can write my name in the sand with a stick or write them with my finger on rolling clouds in the sky. My words disappear being whisked away by a slight gentle breeze. It’s who I am. Dying would be not writing at all or never being able to write again. I’ve decided it. I’m sure of it….
This poem is dedicated to Maya Angelou.
A One-Way Street is a direct route
In one direction
Going in the opposite direction,
May be going against the grain,
You may find yourself turned around upside down,
Backwards and not forwards,
Distracted from the destination or the goal; sidetracked.
Not where you want to be.
I found myself on a One-way street in traffic
Turned around or upside down, backwards instead of forwards,
As travelers on the road looked on confused.
It happened because I was not clear about my destination at the time.
Navigation compass out of whack.
I gathered myself together after this grievous mistake,
Pulled myself up by my bootstraps,
Adjusted my clothing,
Picked my face up off the floor and made a U turn.
I was thinking how did I ever get turned around or upside down,
Backwards not forwards, wrong direction.
Further from the finish line.
Now facing in the right direction I was equipped
To stay the course, remembering what was my initial fixation of a sensation,
Overcoming distraction, while using contemplation of the manifestation,
Of the completion of my journey
Down the One -Way Street……
This poem is dedicated to Maya Angelou, whose work has inspired millions. Thank you Miss Angelou for your gift to the world.
I failed today. And it’s okay.
I tried and tried.
I’ve failed many times before.
Lost many battles, bled and been defeated,
I’ll get back up and try some more.
I’ll win the war….settle the score.
Wisdom says Practice makes perfect.
I’ve met Practice and I’ll admit, I scoffed a bit and
laughed at it….. at times in my youth.
Now I’m older that I’ve realized that Wisdom
Was right all along. What a fool I had been.
Courage told me that Faith and Hope
Would pull me through
And they have. Hope told me not to give up
Stay in the race and run it.
Determination and Perseverance met me
While I was resting “Get up! Get Up!
Time is ticking!”
Time smiled at me and shook its hands.
I arose and took to the Road once again.
Now I know what they meant on that Road
I’m travelling. It whispered to me through the
Wind and said,
“Remember good advice. Don’t waste it. Don’t give up.
Follow your dreams. If you do these things traveler,
you shall surely find God’s greatest gift in you.
This will make you a winner……. winner.”
This poem was inspired by John Bunyan’s “Pilgrim’s Progress” and Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken”
by Okema “Seven” Gunn
I cannot breathe without notebook and pen,
I hold my breath and count to ten,
I live to write, about simple things
The greatest joy that words can bring.
I wish I may, I wish I might
It is my gift. It is my right!
When I was young,
My first craze was to look upon a book and gaze.
I’ve been to cities in Senegal, China, Italy,
Belgium, Canada, Panama, and Belize;
Climbed mountains, swam oceans,
ran beaches to catch the breeze.
I write about film, and love and life,
I write about obstacles, hardships, and strife,
I’ll write about dogs, cats, fish and birds,
I’ll write about anything in other words…
I’m passionate with words I can declare!
A long-standing love….a great affair.
Unstoppable, Unshakeable, Unbreakable bond.
The Essence of the best….Yes! Beau monde.
While I boast of this kinship, fraternity…..this way.
This friendship is not to be taken lightly…
No not today!
I can never see a world without adverbs, adjectives, and nouns…
Descriptors of life…
Sight, smell, touch and sounds.
I fear that my books will suddenly disappear…
My old-school thinking tossed to the rear.
An uncertain future of computers and machines…
My words must connect with real people if ya know what I mean.
A new world emerges ….a strange embrace….Facebook, youtube, and Twitter
In yo’ face!
I’ll hold onto my books and my old way.
Handle with care. Mend pages and binding with fray.
I’ll smile and hug my old friends taking on the new.
I have to change, catchup. It’s all I can do!
Finally…I can vividly..remember when it first began
My love affair with words…
My right Hand man.
A new poem by Okema “Seven” Gunn. Now starting to record my poetry. This one is a bit somber, but not all poems are as such. 🙂
My words were pure and from the heart,
I hoped and prayed …mine from the start.
A world came crashing down like before,
Slightly Ajar… now… closed.. the door….
It aches, it groans…for something
That doesn’t belong.
A frightful night, an eerie song.
He can’t be mine….he never said.
I rested and cried myself to bed.
Oh! How could this be!
I fell again.
For I knew not how or even when.
Hush. Hush. I closed my eyes
And felt the words slowly arise.
He made me gush,
He made me free,
He made me live a fantasy.
On to the next.
I think he may, I think he might.
Release the darkness to the light.
Woe is me! That to find…the memories,
Replay again, and rewind.
Love may cost me…
What I’ve known,
There’s sight of frost and winter’s bone.
If you happen to see him,
Tell him I said,
By him no longer will I be led,
To the sun, nor to the sea.
I’ll make the journey just for me.
I’ll do my best…. The way I know how.
I”ll go and give the greatest bow.
My final act upon the stage….
Farewell performance of this mage.