Tag Archives: freedom

Feathers

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bird photopin

 

I wish I could be as a bird with clipped wings or bound by the bars of a cage

To fit in that proverbial box, where life and love all neatly arrange,

Held atop a pedestal and never fall

But my wings are wild and wide

My need to fly as great as an ocean’s tide

My spirit cannot survive if banded with gold

My heart cannot justify the love it withholds

And I am at a loss without reason to explain

Why I seek freedom the way others seek refrain

 

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/48600090482@N01/298680933″>Wings</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/”>(license)</a&gt;

Clipped Wings

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Birds in Flight

 

Like a little parakeet, her body soft, her beauty sweet

She takes her water and her bread, never hungry before she’s fed

She sings a song that’s all her own within the cage that is her nest

 

Oh for freedom’s rarest gift, she’d forsake the safety

Of her wired home, to seek that which the wild bird knows

Light her feet upon sand or bruise her wings in foreign lands,

 

Enjoy the company of another to fly away before she smothered;

If destiny did not bound her to the sky, she’d seek the heavens for to fly,

Touch back down when need be, to remind herself that she is free

 

Perched upon a beaded swing, her world a little house so fine

Sings a tune pretty to every ear, but sad the melody of her mind

 

 

(photo credit: <a href=”https://www.flickr.com/photos/thomashawk/5581519819/”>Thomas Hawk</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;)

Any Given Saturday

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Liquid dreams, she sees sunshine thru a prism

Tiptoes past the moon to dance in the heavens

Her gypsy heart sees the lines, but they blur

The fragrance of the cosmos flavors her universe

Delicate, her confidence, sprouts from a restless seed

Grows into a vine that spreads like an unchecked weed

I thought I caught a glimpse of her in the mirror one day

She winked and she smiled, but continued on her way

 

 

(photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/markchadwick/9215209587/”>markchadwickart</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;)

Amethyst Dreams

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In this envelope of the cosmos, unsealed by the nimble fingers of time, where the Divine brushes the ordinary, a breath releases its destiny

Let one sigh wind its way through the atmosphere to fall against the naked lobe of a lover

Infinity is only unattainable if limitations are imposed –

What are your impositions?

 

Allow the caress of movement to be the guide; else faultless dust will land on the stoic

Fearless fortunes are made or broken this way

 

(image courtesy Microsoft Clipart)

Ornamental Wisdom

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This is the freedom of the spirit,

Soaring to reach the unknown when,

In the course of measured responsibility, bands are broken;

Invisible, self-imposed obstacles shattered.

Whisper in my ear the truth of your own desires

They are there, in wait, in want.

Desperation feeds exuberance or solitude,

Could go either way –

Will you take the chance with me?

Will we find ourselves on the cusp of exhilaration, or be

Discovered plunging into a loveless silence?

I’d rather know than not.

(Image courtesy of Microsoft Office ClipArt)

Declaration

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proclaim with boldness,

your love, as it were

your desires; but if it be

freedom your heart seeks,

Declare with resolute certainty

so that no man or woman can

misunderstand or wonder at the

intentions –

 

Caution: search the shoreline of your

existence, as Resistance approaches;

are you willing to bloody your own hands?

for a chance at independence…

It’s All About Interpretation

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 by Sheila R. Pierson

It’s all about interpretation – I wrote a song with this phrase in it one time. How one interprets what they read or see can make all the difference in their reaction, if they have one at all. When I was a young child immersed in a very strict religion, I was raised to believe that if you had sexual relations with another person you had to marry them…or burn (in hell) based on the scripture 1 Corinthians 7:8,9 King James Version. This led a lot of young, God-fearing folk down the aisle of a broken marriage before they could blink. It turns out this particular scripture can also mean it is better to marry than to “burn with passion,” giving a whole new meaning to the scripture. I bring this up to merely make the point that interpretation can make all the difference.

I wrote the poem “Truth” a few years ago while living in Memphis, TN. It was Black History Month and I looked out across a field and saw it covered in tiny stalks of a white flower I didn’t recognize, but on a grand scale it made me think of a field of cotton – something I am all too familiar with in the areas I have lived all my life. I posted the aforementioned poem a month ago on my blog, but wondered if anyone interpreted the meaning I aimed to imbue it with. Here we are in Black History Month 2012 and I would like to revisit it, if you will indulge me and allow me to give the meaning behind the madness in my mind.

Truth

Flying spiders, upright toads

Whimsical fairies, the mind implodes

Shadows flee or perhaps they chase

The sun that shines over such disgrace.

An open wound that drains disease –

Don’t Read My Mind If You Please!

Cotton stalks, the smell is rich

Of crosses hot and black flesh

Which will burn or hang if chosen by

White sheets tonight living high

The wind will carry through the leaves

Stories of old and dreams of these –

Hasten to capture the Truth of just one

Be wary of those who say there is none.

The first two lines: the inconceivable, something disgustingly impossible, an implied segue to the upcoming lines in the poem.

The next two reference such things as disgraceful and hard to look upon. I call these ‘an open wound that drains disease,’ attempting to acknowledge that I know such horrors may actually be possible but the next line “don’t read my mind if you please’ is asking the reader to not assume too much about me, the author; don’t assume I condone such horrors when I resolutely do not.

The next few lines are more easily interpreted: “Cotton stalks, the smell is rich of crosses hot and black flesh which will burn or hang if chosen by white sheets tonight living high.” This is an out and out admission of the severe injustices that have happened in the South by those who hide under the cover of darkness and white robes. 

Following this is an intention to challenge the reader to believe and acknowledge the truth of this; that when you hear the stories of the very people who were forced to use separate water fountains and weren’t allowed to sit where they wanted, go where they wanted and yes suffered physical and bodily harm to afford themselves the same rights as everyone else, don’t doubt them! For God’s sake, listen to them and learn from them. Take your new wisdom and spread it to others. And yes, the phrase “dreams of these” is in reference to Martin Luther King, Jr.

Lastly, when someone (and there’s always someone) doubts the truth of these things, remember the last line of my poem and “be wary of those who say there is none.”

image provided by Microsoft Clip Art