Kensington(through my eyes)
As I look outside my window,
I sigh thinking of what could be,
What should be,
And what is not.
There are drug dealers on the corner,
Stumbling over each other
Trying to make a dishonest living.
Dying over a sale.
Trash on the streets
To compliment the prostitues
Under the EL.
You ask, 'Is this Hell? '
No, for me it's home,
It's people are suffering right now,
Something's got to give,
People here are dying
Just trying to live.
The children roam freely
Among the chaos
Becoming immune to the destruction around them
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poem by Denice Robinson
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To My Daughters
You are destined for greatness,
Yet you do not even know,
You have such passionate feelings,
Yet you never let them show.
I carried you in my womb,
And now I watch you grow,
Soon will come the time,
When I have to let you go,
I have always loved you,
How much you may never know,
I have always been so proud of you,
But my foolish pride won't let it show,
You are so beautiful,
Yet it to you it seems unknown,
Your endless wit can be a gift or a curse,
Use it carefully when you are grown.
I'm sorry for not being the mother you may have always wanted,
I raised you to be everything that I am not,
Only because I want the best for you,
So you don't have the life I've got.
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poem by Denice Robinson
Added by Poetry Lover
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