Hello my fellow Black Planet Peeps. I want tell every one; I am now a PUBLISHED POET!! You can find my first book of poems at Amazon.com. Go to --https://www.createspace.com/ 3444311 and check out my book. I am working on book number 2. Hopefully that tome should be ready by????. Thanks!
You might have heard that I write for Examiner.com. Just let me confirm - the rumors are true! I am the Southfield Coffeeshop Examiner. I'm sure you're not surprised that I'm writing about my passion for this subject and I can't think of anything better than to share that passion with the millions of people who are perusing Examiner.com's content on a daily basis. Well, maybe one thing better, which leads me to my next point. I would like to invite you to subscribe to my articles so you can stay in the loop; simply click on the subscribe link at the end of this email and you'll be notified whenever I publish a new article. Also, feel free to forward this email to anyone else you think might enjoy my articles. As always, thanks for your support! Warmest regards, Fred Green Click here to subscribe to my articles.
I WOULD LOVE TO NETWORK, MEET AND CHAT WITH OTHER POETS AND WRITERS. I WRITE SCIENCE FICTION AND AM STARTING IN THE GENRE, WELL, OF MAINSTREAM. I AM ALSO IN THE PROCESS OF STARTING MY OWN PUBLISHING COMPANY. SO IF YOU ARE INTERESTED PLEASE LEAVE A NOTE.
Ok everybody, this page will continually go under reconstruction. I will get it right sooner or later!
Welcome to my little corner of this beautiful blue green planet. I am glad and grateful you happened to pass this way on your journey.
Me? Well, my name is Fred So, I ain`t looking, now, For Real!! I am just too happy now! It was real ya`ll, but its time to move on! Smooches!!
Anyway, I am dedicating this page to my mother. I owe everything that I have learned in the last 47 years to her. She was a very strong woman, a doer, a mover and a shaker, courageous to the end. Mom, this poem is for you:
MY Mothers Garden
I sit in my mother s garden
admiring the beauty within,
Wondering how she did it,
right to the very end.
Now that she has passed away
I wonder will they grow again.
I sit in admiration and smile,
as Igaze upon the Lily s, Roses,
Orchids, and flowers I have no
possible idea what they may be.
But sitting in this lush verdure
of beautiful greens, and luscious
reds, I still have a sense of foreboding,
a touch of anxiety, a cause of Panic
that I cannot seem to shake, for now.
I sit in my mother s garden with tears
flowing from my eyes, in the very
chair that she sat observing what she planted,
after years of loving work. I sit and feel,
now lonely that her plants, like me, may
wither and die without the nourishment
of what she gave, her everlasting love.
My hope and not my worry isthat her
Botanical jewel will live on. Not with
My raining tears, but to find the very
Magic, my mother s soul, to help them grow.
I sit in my Mother s garden
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Hard Rain
Rain, erotic, a sensual downpour.
Passion radiating through my body
This downpour hearkens, my heartbeat quickens
An ecstasy, delightful, spreads within.
My fantasies beckons me, I open up.
Rain drenches my nakedness throughout.
It cleanse my soul as I frolic
I call your name, but the rain is deafening, now.
Drenched, I reach out and take your hand
I kneel before you.
Water trickles down, from erect nipples
Soft, yet supple to my gentle touch.
Bedew cascades down your luscious curves.
I use my tongue to open your flower and
Drink the rain from parted sheath.
The rain now easing, my fantasy ebbs.
I wait for another time when the rain may fall.
Hoping that you ll join me, exploit me, use me.
For now, my fantasy lives on, the rain will continue.
============================== ======
CRYING SERVES NO PURPOSE
Crying serves no purpose, I think or so I thought,
How can one have tears of joy, sorrow,
Tears for fear, grief, and righteousness?
A humble thing to do they say.
I could never feel this inside of me
I had better things to do I said.
My life I felt was rigid, hard to bend or even flex
That s not what I wanted but it s me, or so I thought.
Men, I m told were like that, never taught to cry.
It was something that just happened and I never wondered why
A man is a man and must always do what s right.
But life is hard, that I know and sometimes men cry all night.
For me, though, lifehas been too easy, it seemed to pass me by.
I lived from day to day, it was me, to me that was joy, I think.
The folly of my thinking satisfied my thirst, at first.
No hardships, grief, or sorrow, no tears, or so I thought
Then one day my mother passed, I opened up and cried.
The meaning of this moment hit me, but didn t clear my misty eyes.
Nights of restless sleep, dreaming that I cry.
Crying served no purpose, I think, or so I thought.
============================== ======
Thinking of you...
In the deepest corners
Of my mind
My thoughts
Permeate of you.
The pleasures of
Your touch tickle
My inner soul.
I drink from the
Spring of your
Sweet, sweet youth.
This once unreachable
Yet gentle milieu
Grows closer as
My pondering lifts
My Spirit. My memories
of you dance in my heart,
As I celebrate the day we
Reunite; I continue
Lost in time,
Thinking of you
============================== ======
In memory of trees
Like a fallen comrade I alone weep
Lying like scattered dominos
Tossed aside defeated, vanquished.
I turn and wonder my own destiny
Will we too end up this way?
It s life giving blood flows no more
A golden aura, its wisdom self-contained
Eons of evolution Spilled, hacked befallen
But saplings grow replacing spirits hopes
Only after my death will one realize
The true nature of their being.
Giants in this vast land coming of age,
Maturate, blossom, fruitful, harvest.
Every new day, touching the sky
Outstretched arms reaching to bless
Me. Only I with my mind to see,
In this memory, my memory of trees
============================== =======
GO MAZE AND BLUE!!!!!
GO STATE!!!
PLEASE TAKE A COUPLE OF MINUTES AND SIGN MY G-BOOK BEFORE YOU LEAVE. I WILL DO THE SAME WITH YOUR GUESSBOOK!! Ciao!!
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