By James C. Kilgore
A few shelf put on in a different way first-class.
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Extra resources for African Violet: Poem for a Black Woman
Page 40 My senses wage a quiet struggle; My tongue tastes the sensuous syllables She drops with casual neatness or windy precision, And I long to smell the fragrance that marks the boundaries of her night and morning state; And even as I leave her I am still mystified, Yet very satisfied, But I pray for another more divinely powerful time When TANTRA cannot be denied, When the energies expanding in the cosmos within, between, and from our worlds Shall call the coiled goddess to send a synthesized TSUNAMI Tremoring across my red land.
No balm this side of the Middle Passage. Any trained mind should know that Without you there would be no Black home; No one to rock baby Barbara Jordan to sleep in Texas; No one to sing a lullaby song to Little Lena Horne; No one to make Monday nights peaceful in Buttermilk Bottom; No dark familial gravity to call me out of the taverns and poker rooms when night sets me free from labor to struggle for freedom and oneness with you, to seek renewal and immortality with you Without you there would be little music in this hemisphere; There would be much less dancing and poetry here, And no shouting in the church's aisles.
Steel, Shovels coal, deep under dark Kentucky, Squeezes the triggers of M-16's, Asks social questions of computers, Points blue-black pens at the Chairman of the Board to make her stock market points, And makes business in the bedroom. Page 42 I Shall Remember You When summer disappears And autumn stalks the road to Chagrin falls like a San Francisco whore welcoming troop ships to the shore, I shall remember you who will not wait for gray days to walk the land you love. When autumn is weeping wild tears on the sidewalks of Shaker Heights, You will be watching the tobacco harvest from atop of Mt.
African Violet: Poem for a Black Woman by James C. Kilgore