When Doves Cry
(In memory of a moment shared with Legacy)
I remember the sound of your voice
You were so very excited
With that hearty laugh and high pitched screech
You said mama “you gotta hear this beat”
I gasped and went into my silent retreat
Here we go again gotta listen to some sinful music
All proud and religious
As if my soul would melt if I allowed myself
To indulge my beautiful little girl
Who I thought had too many entanglements
Inside of the secular world
I dropped my pride while gritting my teeth
Hoping that the shrieks of Prince’s voice would cease
And then I watched the smile on her face
See I never knew that sharing a moment would
Change my daughter’s mind
About her religious mama who was filled with so much pride
Saved, spirit filled and sanctified
Can’t enjoy a solitary moment
With your developing teenage child
She was right that day it was an awesome treat
I even learned to appreciate
The awesomeness of the beat
And now when I remember her
And tears fill my aging eyes
I know the sound of angel’s flight
Love is what it sounds like
When Doves Cry
Sonja M. Stuckey
6/28/2021
Under the Poet Tree
(writer’s block strategy)
​
Me thinks good thoughts
Develop strong sense of whit
Relaxing to the sounds
Of the forestry
In the shade
Of the branches
Of the soft green leaves
That blow in the wind
Of the poet tree
Me rests my weary
Mindless wonder
Sink slowly into
Drunken slumber
Winds caress my sullen face
Woo me into this
Quiet space
Where birds make nest
And wanderers rest
Where fruit may grow
A sunshine glow
Where dewdrops fall
From Morning to eve
Restless minds will
Take reprieve
In the shade
Of the branches
Of the soft green leaves
That blow in the wind
Of the Poet tree
Where pages bloom forth
As springtime flowers
Volcanic words
Erupt in showers
Hues of yellow, green and blue
No longer blocked
I feel empowered
Unplugged from daily
Drain by choice
Pick up the pen
Renew my voice
In the shade
Of the branches
Of the soft green leaves
That blow in the wind
Of the poet tree
Meadows as far as
The eye can see
My heart has found her liberty
Abundance of words
Comes back to me
As in a divine epiphany
In the shade
Of the branches
Of the soft green leaves
That blow in the wind
Of the Poet tree
Quietly----
My muse at peace
No greater gift
To me is given
When words appear
As random scribbles
And scribbles become
Metaphorical phrases
Alliterative outbursts
In free verse style
Fall like rain drops
Makes me smile---
In the shade
Of the branches
Of the soft green leaves
That blow in the wind
Of the poet tree….
Mother Nature
Inspires
Creativity---
“Mama’ Sonja M. Stuckey
April 30, 2019
7:19pm
Magic Mic
I long to hold you
In the hollow of my hands
To grip you oh so tightly
As I lift you off the stand
See you excite me
In ways I can’t explain
I find the need to engage you
Over and over again
You incite poetic word play
As it oozes through
Cerebral membrane
I’m caught in the trap
Of your embrace
Filled up my creative space
Tempestuous thoughts
My voice amplified
Hearing the feedback
Of the listening crowd
I’m doing fine---here
On this cloud nine
Heart throbbing
To rhythmical rhymes
Meters and lines
Lyrical intonations
Attune to the rumblings of my soul
I’m raptured
By your cosmic juju--
I live for this ride
This natural high
I’m flying free
Winds behind me
And I breathe….
I’m intoxicated--- by your energy
Magic Mic
What have you done to me?
As I release you back
Into your resting place
And I bow my head
To fingers snapping
Hand clapping roars
This stage is the birthplace
That will be the death of me
Destination---poetry
Magic mic --- be the muse
That I can’t refuse
I keep saying I’m done
But you pump up
The volume inside my head
So here I go
Picking up the pen
---slowly surrendering to my own chagrin
To the language that
Lives in the writers soul
Expressions too precious
To leave untold
I fall helplessly
Into your clutch
Etching out musings of the
Scribal kind---
Keep saying that we won’t
Do this again---
Feels so good—
It must be a sin
Ok, magic mic you win
Your magic pen writes on my mind
So let’s get stroking-
And hit rewind
Magic mic
Is not a choice
He is the muse
The master
The melody of voice…
Mama Sonja Stuckey
NaPoMo PAD #5
April 7, 2019