Writes..."Birthday Poems"

for taba...1-27-14

"on today, this special day, the day of your birth;
i've chosen words to convey my thoughts on your worth,
on your value; i'll use a verb or adjective
"loving" is an action, yet it also describes,
you better than any word from the best of scribes,
who penned lines 'cause penned lines were their reason to live
but through "loving" you i have a reason to say,
the word's ne'er meant more to me than it does today"

for michel'ley...12-8-13

"i've known you a short while, not a very long time,
but know when i look at you i see you as mine;
know i couldn't have asked for a better daughter,
in you, i've been given the word truly defined
you're better, the best; god made you a special kind
happy birthday michelley!!! from a proud father"

for e...8-14-13

"every year i think to offer something to say
that i'm thinking about you on your special day
but flowers wither and cards can be thrown away,
and candy rarely lasts for longer than a day
so i need something to give more destined to stay;
more destined to linger when gifted on this day
i require something that'll perfectly say,
"you're loved beyond what any of those things would say"
so every year i offer my words, and then i pray,
they show the sentiment that i want to display
again it's me expressing in a humble way,
i wish you a very joyous happy birthday!!!"

for tia...5-27-13

"roses are red, violets a reddish blue:
two things i'm sure you already knew
so i'll write on things i want you to know
pen just a few words in order to show
on your birthday i was thinking of you,
and thoughts last longer than flowers or dough
happy birthday! may today be full of,
joy; in the company of those you love
in celebration of another year,
may the laughter shared reduce you to tears
most of all, i wish on the stars above:
this day you know you are someone held dear"

for e...8-14-11

"i'll start this with: "roses are red, a deep crimson hue..."
roses are lovely and they smell fragrant too
they inspire jealousy from the unfortunate few
who wish they were you, and getting roses too

my words aren't flowers whose colors are red
or long-stemmed or thorny, so i'll send feelings instead
can't put them in a vase; or spread them out on a bed
penned by my hand; connected to my heart and head

happy birthday e! be blessed just by knowing
that because of you roses are continually growing
that my words are continually glowing; joy's overflowing
thus, a tribute to you through prose must be hallowing"

for jazz...8-1-10

"another year gone by, another candle for the cake, another chance to tell you how much you mean to me. more than using a generic template for a poem..."roses are red; a deep crimson hue...blah blah." more than a comical greeting card..."thirty's over the hill, you're old...blah blah." we're beyond both so i won't do either. all i'll say is i'm truly blessed to be able to call you my friend and i'll always value your being in my life. never forget that. happy birthday jazz and many more to come! and that's from the heart...my own words and my own effort."

Writes..."Wilson: First Love Pt. 2"

"and sometimes the heart does allow a man to rhyme,
even if it's in twelve syllable lines at times...
penning in perfect or near-perfect lines...
the feelings for another in his heart's confines...

i wonder if she remembers "us" from the start...
well, not the eighth grade "us" sharing a class of art...
with the school picture where shots did part;
her "bryant gumbel" parting shot 'cause i was smart,

wore glasses, or maybe 'cause i looked like the man...
but anyways...i'm off-subject; that's not the plan...
i'm referring to "operation: racket man";
elton john just said he's suing; fuck him, he can...

yeah, i had his song playing when i wrote that line,
but my play on his words mean now his words are mine...
besides, if ruled on how "infringement" is defined,
a judge, at most, would issue punishment in a fine...

but i'm off-topic again; back to the story...
my remembrance of our past stored in memory...
our history; not just "honors world history";
"us" in tenth grade; "us" with only tenth grade worries...

i often wonder if she can even recall,
exactly why she gave me a number to call...
yeah, i carried 'round a tennis racket and balls,
but i never figured that would "net" her at all...

she was standing by an exit one warm spring day,
waiting for a ride so she could be on her way...
that encounter between us is when she did say,
"brian, i'm interested in learning how to play;

perhaps you could offer me a lesson or two?"
to which i replied, "i can show you what to do;
i can teach you anytime you have the time to;
what's your number so i can get in touch with you?"

then she placed seven digits on my palm in pen,
marker; can't think of what writing tool was chosen...
i just know that our relationship started when,
i had to be off the phone with her before ten..."

Writes..."Nicole Simpson Can't Rap...And Neither Can I...XX"

"apparently to some i come off as conceited;
overweight ego 'cause i constantly feed it
humility is a disease; i don't need it
what color ribbon worn will show that i beat it?
be jealous of this dick; in fact, those can eat it
scratch that...don't need no dudes reaching for the cleated;
hands on my zipper, with intentions to free it
perhaps a brown ribbon will show i've been treated,
for an illness eventually defeated
'cause i shit out arrogance; my ass secretes it,
every time i'm on the throne, the king is seated"

Writes..."Penetration"

her: "i've felt you inside of me.. you're amazing! word for word it felt amazing! you have made me feel literally what no other man has ever made me feel."

 

me: "uh, you do know who this is right?" 

her: "the only man that can penetrate me with words."

 

"then she said my name; told me what i used to do;

how good i was at alternating rhyming lines...

when i wrote a's through g's, in ten-syllable lines,

penning my mind the way william shakespeare used to...

 

'cause she's seen who i am, through words devoted to,

one worthy of more than a few elegant lines...

and she's seen how i feel, what's in my heart's confines,

times that i'd given her elegant lines to view;

 

times that she'd found herself described in one or two;

on paper, her beauty and my brain intertwined...

a perfect collaboration in every line:

they were equal parts who she is and what i do...

 

she still inspires 'cause what i've penned remains true,

it's just now i've evolved to twelve-syllables lines...

in every piece adjectives and verbs still combine,

with pronouns like "she" and "i", the way they used to;

 

and i display the same sentiment i used to...

my heart on the page, bleeding out in every line;

my pen to a page, trying to "word" her to be mine;

each one intented to show we're a better two...

 

she and i, would share something known by just a few;

be the answer when people ask how love's defined...

but if i asked her a question, this would be mine:

"will you allow more than words to penetrate you?"

 

or "do you think on scenes of me loving you;

a tryst where i'm filling you with more than just lines?"

i do; i think on times when more than words are mine;

and "inside" of you means i owe that side of you

 

imagine words replaced by a finger or two;

perhaps three inches that'll inch closer to nine;

all put in the same places, with the same design:

to keep that "amazing" feeling running through you...

 

i'm asking for a chance to do what my words do?

you say i've "been inside", so i'll just use your line,

as proof that you believe we've already combined...

why not connect on a physical level too?""

Writes..."The Sweetest"

for taba...10-19-13

 

"today's special...but not 'cause other people say,
"it's sweetest day" since you're the sweetest every day
your heart-shaped box is filled with more than chocolate
you possess a love inside loved ones don't forget;
and ones once loved are pained now that it's gone away,
wondering daily how to exist without it

no, i don't need those who talk to get me to say,
" today's special"...'cause being with you makes everyday
special... and extraordinary... and exquisite,
'though more than those adjectives would easily fit
i guess my point is it's 'cause of you, every day's
twenty-four hours of time i'll never forget"

Writes..."Secret Garden"

“she’s celibate but what i pen’s making her doubt,

the reason she has for keeping pen-ises out

my words relevant, what she’s been dreaming about,

in dreams she views scenes of someone turning her out;

turning her on; when the switch is off, lights are out

‘cause in the dark, it’s my lines she’s thinking about;

and in the dark, it’s my lines that are eating her out;

every adjective and verb takes a direct route,

to a place now flooded that once had seen a drought

when she “cums”, it’s how i think that’s making her shout

i plant myself in her so the rooting can sprout,

through seeds i create to show her what i’m about”

Writes..."Opportunity"

"it's in that moment when two pairs of eyes connect;
the opportunity for connecting's perfect
i mean like "me in she" since i'm being direct;
the opportunity..."me in she" is perfect
and in being direct i can say i suspect,
it's not hard for her to imagine me erect;
or herself on her knees waiting for me to inject,
my erect...never mind, let me change the subject
well, not change as much as show a lot more respect,
when i "nickel and dime" the act, i disrespect
the opportunity for us should be perfect,
so i need to better word the way we connect

let me start again..."when two pairs of eyes connect;
my brown ones seek to make her brown ones the object,
of my desire"...nope, it's back to disrespect;
opportunity means she is an object;
and opportunity means she doesn't object,
when i tug at her nipples to get them erect
only moans escape times i take an indirect,
path directly to the spot where her legs connect
i guess what i'm trying to express in effect,
is that each time i think of her as a subject,
i think of opportunities we can connect;
"connecting directly"; seems that wording's perfect"

Writes..."Brown Eyes"

“i gaze upon her face, to find brown eyes gaze back
at brown eyes magnetic; i find brown eyes attract
my brown eyes to her own, they keep drawing me in;
i’m drawn to them the way moths and flames interact
i continue to stare as her brown eyes stare back,
knowing i should turn from them but nothing distracts;
nothing else exists in the world that we live in,
just she, i, and the tools we use for eye contact
i know the sight burns into my mind in the act;
searing; to see it will endure times all is black;
when my brown eyes are closed, her brown eyes are open,
proof the connection between them remains intact;
proof her regard has had its desired impact;
see, she wants brown eyes to remain after the fact
a lasting reminder ‘til i see them again;
the last thing i see when i see no more in fact
i return to her face, to our gaze still intact
‘cause brown eyes hypnotic means nothing ‘round distracts
the truth is they mesmerize; i can’t help but spin;
i can’t seem to get my train of thought back on track
it’s in looking straight in her eyes, my mind’s sidetracked;
only i find a direct path through the same act
brown lost in brown, for me serves as inspiration,
each time i have words inside i need to extract”

Writes..."Fibonacci Poems"

"love" (7-15-13)

"love
means
loving
all of her
loving all she is
with everything inside of me
and maybe, just maybe, having the same love returned
love is she and i giving all of ourselves, in all that we do, to ensure this lasts forever"

"desire" (7-16-13)

"she
i
coupled
forever
is what i most want
'though i've never wanted before
us together is the only thing i desire
our existence being one my love for her is surpassed only by my bond with her"

"waiting" (7-18-13)

"she

stands

waiting

patiently

for someone she finds

worthy of the love inside her

she knows only someone who sees what’s inside of her

is someone truly deserving of loving everything that they see on the outside"

Writes..."Promises"

“she promises me a white dress; a purple band;

something elegant, perhaps of vera wang’s brand…

a tiara with a veil; a long-running train;

a bouquet made up of lilacs held in her hands…

i promise to have an intimate venue planned;

some secluded place possessing a view that’s grand…

plus, an afternoon absent the presence of rain;

on a bluff overlooking both ocean and sand…

she promises that day she’ll walk to where i stand,

confidently knowing each step’s one she’ll command…

the path taken without any issue of strain;

without any aide to provide support in hand…

i promise myself when she reaches where i stand,

i’ll receive her with tears that we’ll both understand…

we’ve both, having experienced heartache and pain,

sacrificed; as tribute finding true love demands…

she promises her life when she offers her hand,

through the symbolic exchange of two golden bands;

every thought, of feelings she says will never wane,

is easily believed ‘cause i’ve felt them firsthand…

i promise her… i promise her…

i promise her my love until my dying breath…

i promise her my love with every single breath…

i promise her my breath…”