A Quiet Man *

I speak to

you sometimes

in those moments

before

sunset

or

sunrise,

I feel your closeness

within the sound

of the wind through

the trees.

~

I miss

your gentle quiet ways,

comfortable with silence;

your words of wisdom,

offered tenderly;

your ever present smile,

my own given in return;

your calm ice blue eyes,

that always saw my soul.

~

I was like an island,

surrounded by an

endless ocean

of love you held

in your heart

for me.

lg/21062020

*Note: I was lucky to have this gentle man as my father.

This is a photo of my Dad at the age of 21 shortly after my parents were married. My Dad is looking directly into the lens he always did that. He looked people straight in the eye never looking away. As I got older I noticed it made people uncomfortable, sometimes they’d look away. I remember asking my Dad why that was. His response was two fold, either their lying or hiding something deeper they don’t want you to see.

On a side note: I have a photo of my Mother age 17 in the same setting, apparently taken the same day. however she is actually reading (she loved books) the book.

Wishing my fellow bloggers a Happy Fathers Day to the men who choose to be a Dad, Step Dad, Adopt, or Mentor a child, remember be kind, understanding you are molding who they’ll become.

Always 🌎 ✌🏻 💙 Take care, be safe.

BLM

Black is the color of my skin~

the difference

between you and me

Live life without fear my dream~

the difference

between you and me

Matter as a human being~

the difference

between you and me

~~~~~

Willing too accept change

Have love for our diversity

Indifference no longer acceptable

Together we can grow strong

Embrace ‘n respect our differences

lg/09062020

Poem by Leslé Honoré *

The lights are out at the white house

Made with enslaved hands

The lights are out at the white house

Pillar of stolen land

The lights are out at the white house

Because we have been at war

Battlefields soaked with our blood

Enemy from within our shores

The lights are out at the white house

A thousand points of oppression

Millions scream We Can’t Breathe

white supremacy the constant lesson

The lights are out at the white house

We elected a bigoted whore

While hope crumbles

The coward hid in bunker floors

The lights are out at the white house

democracy in darkness

Every time we filled it

With righteousness

It was met with rage

When it was most brilliant

When it’s legacy was change

america answered with a

Fascist clown

So the lights are out at the white house now

justice is in a perpetual sleep

fists reach toward the sky in defiance

Power is the Rhythm of the Protesters’

Marching feet

The lights are out at the white house now

Like the church isn’t pews or steeples

america isn’t the white house

It is an Uprising People

© Leslé Honoré 6/9/2020

*Note: Being from Chicago I became aquatinted with Leslé through a mutual friend (who would share Leslé‘s poetry on Facebook). I sent her a friend request explaining we had a mutual friend and was an admirer of her poetry. Leslé‘s poetry speaks for people of color, it has strength , it has pride, it has pain and it all digs deep into the heart. In time I found her to be a wonderful strong woman of color, who stands up for and serves her community as well. I admire her as a poet, now I admire as well for the beautiful human being she is. The link is to her website if you wish to read more of her poetry.

https://www.leslehonore.com/bio

Please do not reblog this without permission, she is a noted published copyrighted poet.

As always 🌎 ✌🏻 ❤️ we need it in today’s world more than ever.

Malcolm X’s – Police brutality is nothing new, it’s time for systematic change.

Eye View #15

I’ve

waited

for

hours

to

see

you

rise,

now

you

play

hide

‘n

seek

among

the

trees,

however,

peek

a

boo

I

see

your

bright

light

shining

through

branches,

such

brilliance

has

no

where

to

hide

in

a

cloudless

sky

lg/03062020

Photo and words by lg/eob

Eye View #14

unruly

tangled

bushes,

form

tiny

buds

which

burst

into

flowering

white

splendor,

slowly

will

transition

into tiny

deep azurea

clusters.

patiently

awaiting,

wild

blackberries

tart ‘n

sweet

explosions

upon

the

tongue.

early

summers

tasty

gift.

lg/31052020

Photo and words by lg/eob