Voices of the Fans
It is only 38 degrees here in the windy city on this first day of April. If you go by just the weather you can’t even tell that this is the 20th day of spring. Well I know it springs from the sounds my ears hear. Not bees buzzing or birds chirping but the voices of the fan. The fans of America’s greatest past time baseball. The excitement and hope in each fans’ voice as the season begins. Fans Argue with one another but not in anger but in fun defending their team. Every fans a manger and know exactly what their team needs to win. Yeah the weather might make it feel like it is still winter but the voices of the fans lets me know it is spring.
poem by Lore Me34
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Old Brown Shoes
Look sitting at the bottom of the bed.
A pair of old brown shoes.
I can tell by the soles of those
old brown shoes; that they
have walked many miles,
Furthermore, I can tell by
the scuff marks on the toes
of those old brown shoes;
that they had to kick many
obstacles out of the way of
the owner,
Now, by the fade shine
on those old brown shoes;
I can tell that they were
handled with much love
and care.
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poem by Lore Me34
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Please Don't
She only was trying to sooth his back pain; when he stole her innocence away. He took her by surprise and even though he saw the fear in her eyes all he could say was please don’t pull away. Thinking that all he wanted was a romantic kiss she relaxed, but before she knew it he began to unbutton her blouse fear took over the words please don’t could not come out. I’m a virgin she said, I never done anything like this before but her words he ignored. He then flipped her over and penetrated her from behind. Fear took her voice again because she was screaming please don’t in her mind. But her innocence was gone even though she said please don’t.
poem by Lore Me34
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Washed my Feet
Mmmm I know to most this may not seem like much but last night my man washed my feet. He took the sponge and dipped in the water then he held over my feet and let the warm water dripped down on. Woo it felt so good. He then lathered up his big strong hands with soap and began massaging my feet. It felt like ecstasy. Now, he was done with his soap massage he once again wet them with the sponge and when he was done my feet shined like two new pennies. He then dried them and girl that man of mine finished by giving my feet a kiss. I know my man loved me because last night he washed my feet.
Note: This is fictional I wrote this from a woman's point of view.
poem by Lore Me34
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Where is Moses
The ghetto streets are filled with lost souls.
They walk the night with no one to guide them.
Now as I watch a flame burn from a garbage can
I got but one question where is Moses?
Where is Moses to lead all these lost souls to the promise land?
Where is Moses so that he may reach his staff out and part
the sea of bullets that fly through the sky?
Where is Moses so that he may preach to masses
and tell them worship not that idle God known as a crack pipe,
but worship Jesus?
Is Moses some where sitting on a mountain writing
his next top ten rap song?
I know God would never forsake any of his children
but Lord we need guidance. So where is Moses?
poem by Lore Me34
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My Ears - My Eyes
My ears are my eyes because I am blind.
When I cross the street I listen for the sound of cars braking.
My ears are my eyes.
When I enter a room I tap my cane onto the floor and listen for the distance the echo travel to know how far I am away from someone else. My ears are my eyes.
I may never physical see the beauty of a spring day, but when I hear the birds are chirping, bikes constantly peddling by and lovers saying I love you. I know it is a beautiful spring day. I may be blind but I still see my ears are my eyes.
Note: No I am not blind myself but I know several people who are and this is me letting the rest of the world how they see through my poetry.
poem by Lore Me34
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When Life was Simple
When life was simple
Was when I was in mother's womb?
but wait we were poor so my mom got no prenatal care.
When life was simple
Was when my mother gave birth to me...?
but wait I was born premature with a collapsed lung unable to breathe.
When life was simple
Was when I was 6 month old?
but wait that was when my mom found out I have Cerebral Palsy.
When life was simple
Was when I was about ten?
but wait that when I was called the little cripple boy who has no friends.
When life was simple
I was about 26
but wait that when my mother scoffed at my poetic gift.
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poem by Lore Me34
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When I Touch Your Belly
When I touch your belly tears of amazement run down my eyes.
I am so amazed that inside your womb a life lies.
A child that was created all from our love;
God, I can’t believe that in a few weeks you’ll give birth to our miracle of love.
When I touch your belly with my ear;
I can’t believe the heart beat I hear.
It like a little drum beating a message to me;
In the sounds of the beat I swear our child is saying hi daddy.
When I touch your belly I caressing you as well as our child;
I’m caressing you to say thank you for carrying our child.
I could not have chosen a better mother then you.
These are all the things I’m saying when I touch your belly.
poem by Lore Me34
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Stolen Moments
Because you were stillborn my little niece
The moment of me holding you in my arms for the first time has been stolen.
I’ll never have that moment of hearing you say my name that moment has also been stolen.
I’ll never feel your sweet kisses on my cheek or your hugs around my neck more stolen moments.
A lot of the special moments we would have shared have been stolen.
But I want you to know the moment of me loving you my little sweet angel was not.
The moment I knew of you; you stole my heart.
I’ll love you in this moment and every moment for the rest of my life.
This poem is dedicate in memory to my little niece who I passed away today 3/1/08. She was stillborn
poem by Lore Me34
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Who Loves Me
Who loves me?
Is it the woman who carried me in her womb for 7 months?
Or is the man that I am the spitting image of that I call Pop?
Who loves me?
Is it my three siblings who I grew up with?
Or is it their children who call me Uncle Ronald?
Who loves me?
Is it my friend I known for most of my life?
Or is it the woman I Instant message and hopes to one day make my wife?
Who loves me?
Well out of all those people I mention
I can’t tell you which one of them loves me.
From my mother to the woman who’s more than likely my future wife.
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poem by Lore Me34
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