Category: Global Poetry Writing Month

#GloPoWriMo 15/30: Dance

by Kirby P., posted in Global Poetry Writing Month, poetry

She dances with the wind. 
She is connection. 
Connecting us. 
Equal parts global, 
and local. 
Maybe God is in the ocean. 
Maybe God is the ocean, 
A trinity turned quartet. 
She will speak,  
if you listen. 
She will love,  
without conditions. 
She doesn’t charge the surfer
for the wave. 
Just happy he got his surfs up. 
She caresses the shoreline, 
Melodic and sweet.
Millions of miles. 
Smiling on those
who visit. 
Loving those
who need it. 
Keeping the
secrets of the ocean talkers
She dances. 
She is the tide.

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#GloPoWriMo 14/30: Come

by Kirby P., posted in Global Poetry Writing Month, poetry

Come as you are. 
As long as you come like us. 
Be like us
if you want 
to be with us. 
Monopoly on Jesus. 
This is the way. 
Say as we say. 
Do as we do. 
Be whoever
you desire to be. 
Just don’t
be you. 
The gatekeepers
of goodness. 
Only the great
can come in. 
Be my judge. 
Or be my friend. 
But you can’t be both.

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#GloPoWriMo 11/30: Improved

by Kirby P., posted in Global Poetry Writing Month, poetry

If faith in humanity
could be single handedly
restored, 
it would be
because of you. 
A breath of fresh air. 
Full bodied,
green leafy trees
in the Springtime. 
You are
the perfect day
in all seasons. 
You are
Miss Bliss
even when I don’t need to be
saved by the bell. 
I breathe better. 
I am better
because you exist.

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#GloPoWriMo 10/30: The Fruit

by Kirby P., posted in Global Poetry Writing Month, poetry

He stares at me
intently. 
Studying my being. 
He knows
something is different. 
That I’m not like them.
That I’m not like him. 
He hears in my accent
that this 
is not my home.
To be surrounded
but be alone. 
Told that
I’m not African
enough. 
Not Black
enough. 
If it’s us versus them, 
I was sure
that I was us.
But I’m not. 
Not enough
for the exclusive. 
Our ancestors
could have been neighbors, 
and this ain’t neighborly. 
I am not the enemy. 
We
have much more in common.
Perhaps our differences
aren’t that different. 
The same tree 
planted elsewhere. 
We are 
similar fruit.

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