A Friend of Light
As earth prepared its meeting with the sky
And my wishing to watch the sun slowly
Sink into the spectacular glow, instead
I basked in the dark not trusting light.
Then along came Patricia, who chased
Away loneness, fears and all its hosts
You used the means to mine beauty, joy and grace
That I may feel, taste and SEE, and turn to
You when my spirit needs a lift.
Patricia, lovingly called Pat, and my dearest friend:
I remember the first day we met. You
Accepted me and all my grime even instilled
In me that spirituality and beliefs restores.
You cared for me as I scrambled on the floor.
I didn't know where or how to go, yet you kept in touch,
Reached out your hands and picked me off the floor; then
Helped me clean off the grime.
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poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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Waiting...
Waiting…
In my own tranquility, I attend my breath and wait.
I need neither Zoloft, nor steroid, nor meth.
I rage on no more against time and fate, for
what's mine is expecting me.
I stay in haste and delay glee-for
what benefit is such haste?
I stand amid pain and sorrow, yet
Knowing that what's mine awaits me.
Many stormy days and dark nights, I stay hoping
to find my way home, yet not knowing that
which I seek seeks me, and yet
not changing my destiny.
Does it matter to be alone or shall I break?
I rest in joy for that mate in wait.
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poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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Gazing Through Airplane's Pane
High above. The shepherd-less lonely
white sheep being blown by wind as her
cotton tail a wandering across the sky.
Peering down through
the uncontrolled clouds, I see
free-born valleys, knolls, and
Green foliages decorating the ground.
And the river- birch perches on the riverbank,
and being amused by bluebells dancing in the breeze!
Illusions of Immortal souls strung across the heavens
like miles and miles of twinkling stars
dancing on the Milky Way
signaling forget-not New Orleans'
bayous still with no mate.
Standing still- it feels- some thirty thousand
Feet above fields of cotton, creeping vines
strung with seedy black eyed watermellons, their
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poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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Rest in Death
My soul rest from bounty days and years.
With generosity, you gave me long life...thank you!
Now, family and friends surround me with love
Read this poem I wrote for you, don't
wake me let me sleep.
Spirit needs to rest in peace.
Ring the bells and beat the drums.
Fill mouths with songs and eyes with hope.
Turn your heads toward the past.
Recite and paint it magical meanings,
Let songs and poems be my epitaph,
And a soft bed upon my soul rest
Weep not for me family and friends,
Raise your chin up like a rose
raising it petals to dawn.
Speak not of flowery deeds, instead
plant each step In life's garden.
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poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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A Mother's Collection: Tissues, Bones, and Blood (first)
Her First born that seems so long ago:
Peering into my mind...
Look at what I see!
Life-form swimming in sap,
nourished by condemnation and shame.
A little unnamed baby
laying quietly in arms,
What to do with this little stanger?
None other to name you but me and
Desperately needing on the job training!
Days, weeks, and months
Were the only teachers.
Son, step into the now, a half century
Oh my! How time flies! Oftentimes,
it’s when a son becomes a man that a mother
Realizes the many ways he touches her heart.
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poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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Hurricane Roars and New York Naps
Some still absent power; all absent subways and buses; others
absent theatrical Broadway; still others absent restaurants of
many…but
Hurricane past, not without experiencing its majesty,
terror, and the sublimity of a great storm.
Dark clouds roamed the sky shadowing it and the sun.
Man ran to greet the storm, after meeting, in terror he runs.
The winds round buildings moaning and howling like a pack of wolves.
Yet my shivering legs and feet tap and beat to the sounds:
The furious winds ripping down signs, clashing lamppost; and splintering
objects and tossing to the street; and pulling cranes from their posts and
throwing to the ground.
Even rain and winds chased folk from their homes; stripped trees to the bare bone.
Young sprightly trees swayed before humbly bowing, yet the shore was fully exposed
to the East river's surge and the Atlantic Ocean's waves reminding me of the climate changes and its beauty and power!
Bye, bye, bye Sandy: New York just awakens from her nap!
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poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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Goodby: Narcissus
Good-bye, I’m leaving you where you belong…
Only your reflection in mirror you see, while
I wander through the forest in fear alone,
So absorbed are you in your self …
You can’t see me soaking in my spume
Now I leave you alone in your own
I’m also saying goodbye to your flattering face:
Self –aggrandizement, warped self-worth, and
Other unknown things your base
In tears and a sadden heart, alone
I leave you in your own place
Good-bye to the love we’ve shared
I know it’s my life alone I must face
Too, I’m left by the riverbank nearby
a cabin in the woods by a stream
of clear water to drink in your face.
Instead, I listen to early birds awakening the day
Instead, I rest in this scared place in the cool breeze
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poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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An Epiphany In The Car
The gathering black clouds-eerie feeling-
spread over blue sky, putting me in a pensive mood.
Not long after, dark clouds commence
raining and slowly seceded from the rest and leaving
open to view, a silver disk setting in distant west.
Being overcome by flaring orange- red
then and there, the sun falls into the warm arms
of the fiery glow.
Looking into his face, hints of grey down the side that,
seemed to further the water flow down window panes and eyes:
Childhood days were recalled from distant memory of
walking out the sun right into the cool rain.
Too, raindrops on window sounded like Momma's ever whipping tune:
'I told you…beat, beat, beat...not to play in the rain…beat, beat, beat…
'OUCH, 'her lyrics and beating continued hours, it seemed.
Still, we sat in car looking out on the rain, I felt the warm
sunsets and the years of Momma's missed presences.
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poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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A Mother's Collection: Tissues, Bones, And Blood (fourth)
Fourth Born
While they were carefully restoring
The damaged done to the sacred house
I heard a whisper in my ear,
“Mother you have a baby girl.”
I had thought I would have another
boy and would call him “Lanzy- granddaddy’s name”
Like my first born, I asked myself, what to do with
This little pink bundle of joy?
Oh my, a girl! Your dad jumped for joy for
the little girl born of my tears, tears, and pains.
Now a quarter century later- right before my eyes-
You’ve become a beautiful daughter, wife, mother, and sister.
Your passion to be and to do your best is evident in all of this.
A mother learns much from her daughter:
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poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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Rubi's Art
I never miss a special occasion.
Placing the rich red fruit on the canvas; peeling off
The leather skin exposing a spongy labyrinth.
Careful not to Injury the tightly packed red juicy sacs,
She cautiously works her way down to the
Delightful pearls…the finest art.
A picture perfect woman thou art:
Virtue covers your person.
Charm coats your smile.
Warm colors encircle your heart.
My friend, go ahead, consider me disloyal- in part-
in my testament to your modesty and talent that
you prefer to conceal, accuse me of
"blowing your cover". You're dear to my heart; and I
accept the charges of honesty and the freedom of expression.
Some are of "Noble Birth", others not, still others feel they ought"
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poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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