I know what you want from me
And I defiantly know I want it too
We are aiming for the same goal
And both of our hearts are true
So you want me to be better
At everything I do
Well I see your bet and I raise it
Because my heart is true
I will be yours, and only yours
So we can see what we'll be
I know that you want this as bad
As I do, so we'll see
What its like to have the best
Yet, I am already there
Just because I have found the one
That everything, we will share
~Chrystal
Written on
October 12, 2013
...
Blessed are those
In the eye of the downpour,
Basking in the sun's warm rays,
Where others see only devastation
From the storm.
...
I would not be me without him!
The poet before you is because of him!!
For you see, he thought me how to read
and write; a writer himself. I recall mi
abuelito Chepe would write for hours and
at times I would ask him,
“Abuelito, que escribe?” “Mijo escribo
pensamientos!” he replied.
I always thought he had some long thoughts!
However, this is not the way mi abuelito
Chepe’s poem begins—it begins with the
letters “A..E..I..O..U,” the vowels of the
alphabet; the first day we began practicing mi
abuelito Chepe brought a white leather belt to
the dinner table; that’s where we ate, my dad
would pay the bills, and where my abuelo
Chepe thought me my vowels “A..E..I..O..U’s”
I quickly learned why the white belt?
Mi abuelito Chepe would pronounce the
vowels once before practice, then I started, “A,”
“La proxima,” mi abuelo Chepe commanded…
I said, “B,” and before I could catch my breath
again, I felt the whip across my back. “Es, E.”
he said.
I started from the beginning again, “A, E, C...”
but as the letter ‘C’ was becoming a sound, I felt
the white belt lingering in the air above, striking
my back like a snakes bite! Or a bumblebee’s
stinger! Then the tears started rolling. “No estes
llorando!” Mi abuelito Chepe directed at me.
“Es para tu propio bien, y porque te quiero te aporrio!”
He added. As far as I can recall that was the first and
only time mi abuelito Chepe had said to me these
words. “Because he loves me, he discipline me!”
He continues to tell me, “Cuando te apriendas las
vocales bien, las vas a decir haci de rapido, “AEIOU!”
No pauses, or letter breaks, only one long ass vowel,
AEIOU!
After the first practice every practice was the same.
He said, “A.” I would say “P.”—the white belt,
“Yeah, it was there too, it never went unused! Sadly,
I miss the belt, because it reminds me of mi abuelito
Chepe’s strong hands, a leathery feel…harsh, not soft!
When mi abuelo Chepe arrived home from work as a
security guard, he would first put his uniform away,
before he even ate dinner, he would call out to me,
“Sergio, traime el cincho!” “Bring me the belt!” Just
the thought of the whip on my back was enough for
me to shed a tear.
He would be waiting at the dinner table, I would hand
him the belt, and sit next to him; practice began with
‘A’ smile from mi abuelito Chepe, and ended with ‘U’
finding it hard to believe I was reading and writing in
less than two months. It was the fear of Jose Lopez in
me!
In first grade myself and another little girl were the
only two whom knew the ‘A..E..I..O..U’s’ of the
alphabet; the very little we knew, her and I shared
with our classmates.
In the third grade, I wrote six childrens books, which
won a couple of classmates and myself a trip to Ms.
Robin’s home to watch all three of the Star Wars
movies back in 1986…
since that day I have yet to leave heaven!
This could be the Ode’ of Jose Eulalio Lopez-Mejia,
but it wasn’t his commands that made my knees
buckle or the hairs on my neck shiver; it was the
sound of the leather belt breaking wind upon my skin.
The welts it left on my back ached as I lay to sleep,
sometimes I would cry myself to sleep. My days
seemed like neverending, anticipating mi abuelito
Chepe’s arrival from work; practices felt like military
training. He was the General, and I was his cadet.
I thank him for the discipline he bestowed on me back
in the day when I began learning my vowels. I say my
vowels, because I earned them the hard way. I own the
vowels ‘A,E,I,O,U!’
I thank my mother for not teaching me my vowels; she
tried but I didn’t listen. So she called her father! Mi
Abuelito Chepe!
Today, I bleed these vowels and the rest of the alphabet
upon pages, napkins, receipts, even dollar bills—
I created an image he laid the foundation for;
Soulcriticpoet... Rise!!
Little twips,
Envious snips,
Ill equipped,
Worried about things out of their league,
For the sake of intrigue,
Alone,
Must be so sad for them,
Only viciousness shone,
Cold to the bone,
Their illusory throne,
Gone.
It's a real pity,
I'm not being witty,
Monotonous city,
A wall of deceit that's not pretty,
A haggard old snotnose committee,
Shitty,
Unhappiness clouding,
Their lives full of doubting,
Oh my, how they dare,
I can't say I care,
No, not one itty,
Bitty.
© 2013
Thinking on the dew of a just-born day, what today seems so vibrant, tomorrow grey?
For now the shapes they bend into figures and ornaments wrapping and surrounding me like their purpose is only to supply a place where new smiles on my face can grow. The colors, they twist and crackle, they sparkle and gleam, jumping for point to place dancing, dipping and diving all around sparking flames of brilliance not unlike the ones prayer’s followers hope to unite with.
How long can this continue on before these colors, these shapes, this myriad of dreamscapes turn from twists and bends to writhing and seizing. The colors glowing so brightly they block out the timid beauty of the sun, the tender calling of the ocean’s decadent rainbow. The shapes, like the leaves of fall, stumble and crack against the wind of time, dying out and falling just short of another beautiful cycle.
Perhaps though, in this life’s bliss less downfall, in it’s breaking and fading apart, a new ending will become far away; objects forming worlds as the tumble together from their end to an elegant new beginning. The bright whites and gleaming colors collapsing into each other so as to splinter and fracture, molding and forming just to show it’s not how bright they were, it’s how well they responded to each other. It’s not how the shapes fell together, but how with dignity they fall apart. It’s not that the sun was gone, it’s just that sometimes the singing and dancing make for a better view…
Vulture's thirst,
rapier vision.
Grace reversed,
inquisition.
Stoic mass,
contemplating.
Upper class,
salivating.
Lumbering
interruption.
Numbering
deconstruction.
Poisoned weather,
breath is tiring.
Clung together,
mute inquiring.
In formation,
hunger blinds.
Sweet oblation,
blood is wine.
Helpless screams,
rendered faint.
Crimson dreams,
splattered paint.
Jealous treasure,
wounded beast.
Sate your pleasure,
in the feast.
We won't pardon,
those who transgress,
God's special wardens,
when they won't confess.
So can we the guilty,
in His Court today,
deny we're as filthy,
as dark birds of prey?
Ugonna Wachuku
There is a dream far from
the land of my soul.
There are tearful streams
of thought caressing the
yearning warmth of my being.
Windfull trees sway to the
rhythm of nature's heart-beat
in the eye of the me that
I am.
This new dawn, I walk your path
with handsome hope and tear-drops
on my right hand.
This new day, I yearn to see
new landscapes and new beginnings.
But the day is misty, the landscape
unkwown.
Yet I am heaven's hopeful child.
And I must dream beautiful, new
dreams on this land of the eagle.
This new day, let me be created
anew with love on this land of
the eagle beyond my dreams.
Let me be who I must be for the
good of all humanity. Just let
me be made whole on this land
of the eagle.
This new day, there
is a dream far from
the land of my
yearning soul.
Help me Lord!
This new day, let me be
created anew with living
hope and strength on this
lush land of the eagle!
Land of the Eagle
~ Critiques/Comments ~
Valerie Jochum
vjochum@hotmail.com
Each day does indeed hold new beginnings. When we try to view tomrrow
from yesterdays point of view, those new beginnings do look misty.
Even if we try to see the newness in the early dawn, there is mist.
We are unable to see the plans which God lays before us each day, for
his plans are much different than what we could ever imagine. I think
we are only to know that His plans for us is for a new day, a promise,
and our chance to remember He is the commander in chief of our soul.
With that, we are created anew and refreshed. We may keep our dreams,
for those are what he gives us to pursue. Dreams are like ships
floating captainless along the sea of our mind. Dreams, waiting for
us to permit Him to come aboard to sail them into their port where
their reality will manifest. Ugonna, this poem was splendid!
http://www.postpoems.com/members/vjochum
Charisma *T.A.* Makatita-P
charisma@freehomepage.com
Misty days within new hope, new beginnings within dreams. You captured
these things and feelings very good in "Land of the Eagle" Thanks for
sharing. Charisma
http://www.postpoems.com/members/charisma
Farah D
farah@overseas.co.uk
wow! this is inspirational stuff! I was feeling pretty low when I got
here and I must stay it has really lifted my spirit! Excellent
writing!
http://www.postpoems.com/members/destiny
Misty Lackey
countrygal_cc@yahoo.com
loved your poem it gave a sense of freedom along the wings of a
eagle.. good job!
http://www.postpoems.com/members/mistylls
Patricia Jones
patriciajj@hotmail.com
This is musical and sublime; it reads like a long, euphoric sigh. Well done.
http://poetrypen.com/wingsoflight
2002-11-15 11:01:11
Ugonna Wachuku
You are the road.
I am the seeker.
Then, show me
the way.
You are the river.
I am the boat.
Then, float me to
head-waters.
You are the wind.
I am the eagle.
Then, glide me to
towering clouds and
unseen mountain tops.
You are the rain.
I am the flower.
Then, give me water
to grow.
You are the flower.
I am the butterfly.
Then, let me touch
your ripe, blue bud
with a kiss.
You are the tree.
I am humankind.
Then, show me how
to climb.
Remember, you are the
road. I am the seeker.
Then, show me the way.
You are angel.
Then show me heaven.
Yet, you are the road.
I am the simple seeker.
_
The Road
~ Critiques/Comments ~
Gwendrina Howe
Dear Ugonna, again, this poem brings me truth and spiritual pleasure. "You are the road, I am the seeker" - how wonderfully stated! Your analogies are drawn from the depth and simplicity of nature's beauty to make the reader enlightened by this path of knowledge. This verse fills me with deep peace and renewed hope. Thank you, Wendy
http://www.postpoems.com/members/Gwendrina
Helen Schmidt
A lovely poem, Ugonna! You illustrate so clearly how interdependent the various aspects of life are upon one another. We are always searching for answers, and so many of them lie in nature. Beautiful words!
Helen
http://www.postpoems.com/members/helen
Rachelle Wiegand
Came here from your interview with Deborah, Ugonna :) Wonderful interview, wonderful poetics! Thank you for sharing!! :)
http://www.postpoems.com/members/rwpoet
Ken Corbett
This is my favorite work of yours, so far. You are skilled at using the small words to great advantage.
The pictures you paint here are clear and strong.
Ken
http://www.postpoems.com/members/darkpool
Tim / manatee Marshall
bigone5gt9vc7@webtv.net
HI~like we said in the hipie days (HEAVY MAN) lol A+,your writings are like songs and i'm using what someone told me
it plays at the very best time to go along with what i'm already thinking simular thoughts of,thank you
http://PostPoems.com/members/bigone
2002-05-02 17:10:48
Netta Jack
Love the simplicity yet deep message in this piece. Very nice work. Thanks for sharing.
http://PostPoems.com/members/nettajack
2003-01-21 18:21:18
Jayati Gupta
Man seeks God provides! Wonderful poems you write.
http://PostPoems.com/members/jgupta
2004-09-27 14:41:41