“The sources of poetry are in the spirit seeking completeness.” — Muriel Rukeyser
Poetry Sampling: [Bits ’n Pieces of My Truth]
What is the most interesting poem you wrote or theme you address in Welcome to Irie Park? Well, that’s rather difficult to say; they are all important themes and special poems to me…so, here’s a sampling of the culinary flavors (excerpts or select stanzas) of the poetic art from the debut house specials—you know as Welcome to Irie Park—by yours truly, the poetic chef…bon appétit!
I am a world of thought Just waiting to be discovered I am a poem: An undisclosed, unrevealed verse Just waiting to be discussed Where is my Columbus? Where is my Shakespeare— To reveal me thus?
I’ve been told, Time and again That…we, the children of the world, are the future But why?  Why not the present (too)? Well, you know… I’ve been told With a smile, That…I’m only a child So…I’m must wait for a while! But can’t a child… Effectuate and change the world (too)? Why must we go and play And wait for the changes to come?
There is a noticeable silence That lives here in her absence That lives here in my room That has erased thoughts of you That has erased memories of her That has erased thoughts of her voice, and her laughter That has inspired this poem Thoughts of which now threatens the silence The silence has replaced my fleeting thoughts
There’s a hole in my head… And numbers are flowing out! There’s a hole in my head… And words are spewing out! There’s a hole in my head… And love and bliss are gushing out!
I did my best for you to notice me Dropped a line, said hello Waved at you; you smiled and looked the other way Why so shy? Why goodbye? Feeling ambiguous like a dangling modifier, I checked myself; dot my i’s and cross my t’s Befuddled, where do I go from here? Am I to read between the lines? Are you thoughtful like sentences? Or are you playful like nonsense verses?
The perfect poem is… Inspired and impassioned, Disinterested and indifferent, About love and hate, About everything and nothing, A weapon of mass disruption, Written in silence, yet A voice against organized decadence!
I’m a POW, A captive of the war of words inside my head I’m a POW, A casualty of the war of words between my heart and head Now I lie beside her in my bed Naked as (I was at) birth, yet I’m not the same Devirginized, innocence foregone Innocence forever gone Innocence sacrificed at the altar of passion, And perhaps love Innocence given up for experience Innocence betrayed; innocence destroyed I’m a POW, A casualty of the war of words between my heart and head
The forest speaks… To you To me To our ancestors and successors To our grandparents and grandchildren If we only listen!
Ol’ Man, Lookin’ South— When I think back to your life It mirrors a lot like mine You bottled up your pain And swallowed your joy Now you’re gone But your image lingers on
Look… Everyday I write the book Talk to me?  Socialize with me? You in there Discuss your issues with me? Yes, you in there I in there She in there They in there We all in there Everyday I write the book
Here’s an excerpt from one of the contributing poet’s featured gems that I like tremendously given its ferocious veracity and reflective focus on identity:
In thousands we came— bounded in shackles and chains. Embedded beneath sunlight’s deck— striving in darkness of fret. A voyage of life or death Consoled in agony of sweat. BLACK HEARTS SHALL NOT FORGET
Have I (and the contributing poet) whetted your appetite?  Salivating for more?  Need dessert?  No problem…just get yourself a copy of Welcome to Irie Park and satiate yourself!  [Thanks for your support!] “Metaphors Be With You!” —Frank G.
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