Here is a sample of my latest poetry collection! The entire collection will be available Internationally soon and I am very excited! Enjoy this read, it is one of a kind!
SOURCES OF THE SOUL
CONTENTS
Sources of the Soul – PART I – Nature’s Way
A Peacocks’ Tale
Pebbles
Connection
A Frog In July
Captivation by a Subtle Symphony
Beautiful Combination
Nature of the Beast
I AM
So Blue
Autumn Gold
A Cardinals Way
Dandelions
An Elevated View
Shooting Star
June Bugs
Sources of the Soul – PART II – Along Life’s Path
The Hustle
The Listener
Chase A Dream
Just Let Go
The Trailblazer
A Mother’s Sacrifice
Blessing
Branch of a Tree
A Military Mind
Essence of My Heart
Bumbee Martin
Bumbee’s Words of Wisdom
It is the existence surrounding us each day that creates the energy to move us forward and excel to life’s greatest rewards. Whether we find the tranquility and triumph in the simplicities of a rainfall with a Subtle Symphony or acknowledge the aging peddler on the street corner, no longer the successful Hustler, every living form provides a generous story for life's journey. If we listen and look close enough, everything we encounter are Sources of the Soul…
PART I - Nature's Way
Introduction
Life and Death and all amidst; are the elements of Mankind-
But the origin of how we exist, Nature offers to define--
The earth gives way to human fate; revealing as we grow—
A magnificent planet formed to create- - the true sources of the soul….
A PEACOCK’S TALE
Like a peacock’s tail; soft feathers of a shield
A poems colorful word can graciously reveal
Remarkable beauty, with profundity hidden
As the true tail’s exposed, so expressions are written
Formed notions of nature, the quill of each word
Luminous reflections, like the train of this bird.
Presenting the splendor to eyes unaware
Of greater significance that was already there
Awed with the simple exquisiteness unveiled…
The narrative of nature; but a peacock’s tale.
CAPTIVATION BY A SUBTLE SYMPHONY
From out of the skies grey huddle, a soft patter, yet profound
Meets the earths awaiting puddles, to scatter freely upon ground, --
Random drips sprinkle and fall, with delicate formation,
Connecting life to all; uniformed precipitation…
The assorted and varied existence, overcome by a steady rain
As it covers with persistence, all throughout its domain..
It resonates every parched and thirsty soul it surrounds
The sweet cadence in march, to the beating, triumphant sound
The tender drops of water, orchestrate a gentle song.
Amplify a mystic mortar, as they gently pass along
A drenched invigoration, like bullets… yet innate
A quiet liberation, as shots of rhythm penetrate…
The umbrellas and tree tops, which apparently yield
Is not enough resistance for the harmonious field…
Moving along, striking all with captivation-
Natures steady song, but what a fascination..
Drumming calmly by….conspicuous and free….
Music from the sky… a subtle symphony.
A CARDINAL’S WAY
Life was lived with a destiny neglected, bringing the normality’s of time
But one day Death came unexpected, and left a lasting revelation behind…..
It was as I slept one awesome day, the unconscious journey took flight
My life on earth dwindled away, and a red bird came in sight
I felt the brightest sun surround me, against the bluest sky
A place with energy so abounding, I thought that I could fly.
The doctors said that they were loosing me, my pulse slipped away.
But As I became relaxed and carefree, this cardinal spoke that day
I couldn’t appreciate it at first, the tweeting seemed uncomprehending
Then its delicate cherub chirps, became words of understanding
It landed right before my eyes, and spoke to me so clear
“Your life cannot to be compromised and I’m to guide you while you’re here…–
I will be the spirit of your strength and hope – A presence to shield the doubt
For times when you may struggle to cope--I will encourage your destined route.”
When I awoke once again, I knew that talking bird
It was more than just imagined and not just a voice I heard…
The moments of life lost that day, with a miracle that proceeded
Gives thanks to many with a cardinals way, in those 4 pints of blood I needed
For me to survive fully unscathed, passing through deaths door
Renews a spirit never enslaved, which searches as it soars…
There are times I clearly see, those bright spiritual wings of red
Fly so close to perch upon a tree and just watch me from ahead….
And when I’m lost with hesitations, I can hear an angel say-
Return to focus from your frustrations… as the cardinal guides my way.
AUTUMN GOLD
A little autumn leaf blew so freely in the wind
Didn’t seem to know that a time had come to end…
Once a sprouting bud, then springtime made it green
As it masked a tiny nest and heard the robin sing
When its branch had extended it provided summer shade
Yet it held on to its stem when it began to fade.
Elements of time turned the emerald leaf to brown
And oh what a venture in its voyage to the ground.
It scurried like a child, out for a day of fun.
Floating all about, bending to the sun.
Twirling and dancing in the cool October air
Its change almost final, the leaf but unaware.
Riding whistling wind, so happy and carefree
Flying loosely for awhile, disconnected from the tree.
At last it was caught in a final gusty breeze
And fell into a puddle, where it would likely freeze.
The little autumn leaf, its journey so concise
Glowed with satisfaction, crystallizing in the ice….
A changing leaf of purpose, no longer brown or old.
As the sun reveals a remnant of splendid Autumn Gold!
PART II - In Life's Path
Introduction
As Natures defines the earths form, surrounding us to grow
The road we take when we are born, with people we love and know
Leads us to deny or endorse, the bright future we are given…
Those in our path but another source, to the world we are to live in…
THE HUSTLE
Hesichire Moore, still on the south side, a Chicagoan, born and raised.
Death at his door, he never changed tides, - a swindler most of his days.
Once A thriving young man, of attraction, fluent with success in the game-
Chose the long hand, of satisfaction, with only his self to blame.
The daily “hustle”, as he always called it, for too many tiring years
Bred deflated muscle, an empty wallet and her disappointed tears.
The constant grind, he made his way, to meet throughout his life.
Left dreams behind, and then one day his routine left no wife.
He was a good guy against the ropes, who assumed he could attain
A living that would justify, big hopes, he’d tried to gain-
Through easy ways and chance and luck, efforts seemed to fail
The promised days, he chased the buck which came to no avail
The notorious hustle, thought temporary, created a constant strife
As loss and tussle, turned ordinary, then consumed his vacant life.
Finally one day it seemed, the long grit, practiced for years.
Had taken all his dreams, with no commitment to lifetime cares.
The “swag” he possessed, the equitable walk, in that way of a con
The splendid dress and persuasive talk; suddenly were gone.
Now he moved throughout the town, to his corner lot, each day
And fumbled around, to pick a spot, and see who’d come his way.
The days were all the same, a mundane routine, of ease
He never stopped playing the game, his only means to please
Hesichire Moore, his life severed, would never understand
The path in store, just took more effort, to make the better man.
The ramifications, he accepted, ignoring cause to make a change
Left limitations, with dreams neglected, and a life he never rearranged
So as he met, each trodden lost, with a response of the same reaction
Today he sat, paying the cost, to a life time of infractions
As he opened his hand, hoping for plenty, from the next car at the curb
I smiled at the man, and provided a Twenty, but he looked at me disturbed
He felt a sudden shame, from a time he played to win, for I had my father’s face
Recalling poker games, he’d sit down with his friend, only he never got out of the race.
No lesson learned, he gathered a smile, for the following car that gave
A dollar earned, all the while, he’d take the Hustle to his grave.
BUMBEE MARTIN
Her husband of many positions, left her the home when he passed on
But the stories of life with a never-ending mission, were never truly gone....
Her grand house on the south side of Chicago, held a Precinct Captains laws
And the life of a Minister with a Barber shop below, echoed throughout its halls.
I finally gathered from the depth of each visit, and in the years I'd come to know
That her storytelling was quite exquisite; a real lesson for my soul.
The golden drapes were drawn each morning, as her fresh bread rose with the sun
And she send up the stairs, with only one warning, to come down when breakfasts was done.
A spacious home with crafty hideaway doors that now stocked antiques to last.
Porcelain dolls, lined the dusty passageway floors, and spider webs covered their past.
We’d play with the large Dumb waiter, with dishes from the kitchen place
We’d hide upon it later, and scare each sibling that opened the space.
So many incidents had come to be, from the place we held vacations
Not just leisure but the thru history, as we grew with a changing nation
The personal journey from Mississippi to Chicago, were carried for 50 years.
In the house where the Martin family would grow, through one woman’s sweat and tears.
The Nine children she proudly birthed, is now all but one in the same--
Eight of them have left the Earth, as my mother, is the Keeper of the Flame…
The knowledge I take from my ancestor’s hand, holds some answers to life’s long quest.
The past is acknowledged so we understand, better ways to attain our success.
As my grandmother with a lesson in words, would summarize her reaction
Of a situation she either saw or heard, and further clarify the obvious action
Her words of wisdom ring on high, in my mind when I recall
How Bumbee Martin never let anything by, with a few words for us all...
WORDS OF WISDOM From BUMBEE MARTIN
"Change is inevitable and circumstances will rise -But it is the reaction to these that makes a man wise...
An empty wagon makes a lot of noise--boasting is made by girls and boys"
Pride cometh before destruction – a haughty spirit before a Fall.-Arrogance limits production, take heed to advice when it calls.
A closed mouth may not get fed-but what comes natural has a way to be said-
Bestowing ourselves humble and strong-the world our bread as we move along..."
........
THE END
Thank you for allowing me to share some of my work from Sources of the Soul... This is only a glimpse into my colorful interpretation of Nature and the People encountered along life's path. This poetry collection heightens the positive vibrations that can enable your soul to elevate to its highest potential. I take pride and excitement in knowing that Sources of the Soul will be available for you to enjoy in its entirety very soon!
Also, Please Look for my Trilogy, Book I - WAKE ME UP BEFORE I DIE coming soon...
Thank you again for your interest!- Kennedy
Impressum
Texte: copyright, Library of Congress, 2013, revision copyright, Library of Congress 2013
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 07.09.2010
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