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Luna Lynn Feb 2015
dancing to a broken record
of solitary tunes
the hand i held is but a mist of rain
gone far too soon

light a candle in the wind
of visions locked away
as we waltz among the memory
forever our song shall play
(C) Maxwell 2015
Luna Lynn Jan 2015
my great grandmother said,
Oh, freedom
oh, freedom
oh freedom
over me


my grandmother said,
and before i'll be a slave,
i'll be buried in my grave
and go home to my Lord
and be free


my father said,
no more weeping,
no more weeping
no more weeping,
over me


I say,
before i'll be a slave,
i'll be buried in my grave
and go home to my Lord
and be free

Oh freedom!

Oh freedom
over me!

how thankful am i
how blessed am i
to be black
and
be free
This poem was inspired by stories from my father. This is me envisioning generations within my family singing this song (Oh Freedom) at different stages in our history. To me, that has such meaning and power.. With our society becoming more openly racially divided, its as if we have moved backwards in time. So when I find myself becoming angry or hateful, I think about what my family endured in their time, about how my father's birth certificate says "*****" on it, and how he had to drink from "colored only" fountains, and how he grew up picking cotton from sun up to sun down, It means so much to me as not only a light in the dark gospel song, but to know this was sung from the very lips that began this family in a time where freedom was not for us, touches my soul to the very core. My family is a strong family and our ties are bonded by love and Christ.
My great grandmother was a slave, and to see where I stand just three generations ahead of her, really places into my heart the realization of how much power I truly carry in my voice and just how much strength I carry in my veins.

(C) Maxwell 2015
Luna Lynn Jan 2015
i went for a walk in the woods today.

and i can tell you there is a newfound peace among fresh fallen snow,

and i can tell you the crows are smiling even though they await the spring,

and i can tell you the trees create a gothic illusion that all thoughts cling to air,

and i can tell you that although the wind blew the water was still,

and i can tell you that even my very own footprints could not lead me back home.

i went for a walk to clear my head,

and became more intrigued by the mind instead.
(C)Maxwell 2015
in the pleasure of discovering
words rhymes rhythms
i'm a gluttonous poet.

day and night
bite of my growing appetite
makes me sink low

i don't notice
broken pieces
shattered peaces
around me

i breathe in writing
eat and drink
poetry

crazed obsessed stressed
my poetry
like any other debauchery
is an escape ride
someplace to hide

i'm a poet
subservient
to the pleasures of words rhymes rhythms.
Luna Lynn Jan 2015
you take my hand and say,
            "i love you,"
you speak as if you'll go tomorrow

i grasp your fingertips and say,
            "i love you too,"
oh how our love has become lost in sorrow

you ask me when and if you'll die
should we be okay?
i ask why would you ask me so,
let's focus on today

you pull me close
i feel your warmth
i could live inside your skin
forever

the very thought of losing you
creates a storm within me
one i pray to not endeavor

            
"You mean more to me than you know..."
          words could never fully persevere

which is why i fully believe
my god will keep you here.
(C) Maxwell 2015
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