I Think I Will Have That Drink

I Think I Will Have That Drink 

I love the small
version of you
and the delicate touch
of your fingertips
and the poetry that each
layer brings to how we devour
each other in slow and deliberate bites.
It’s magical, and the leaning sky
doesn’t wait but instead
hesitates, nods, and dreams
for us. This is how we have
learned to dissect life, but if we stay too
long, then we are already late
for the evening show.
Yes, the drink will do us fine
and you too will learn
that with each sip,
we are falling in love
once again. With each sip,
we are once more unfamilar
as to why we are here
in the first place.
Yes, I think I will have that drink.
Yes, I think I will.

M.C. Davis

Communication I

I love poetry, as most would suspect about me. There is something about the charisma that poetry brings to the table that changes the color of a room or causes people to stop talking. More specifically, I love slam poetry because within its many different layers, I hear music, and tonal noise that causes anyone to stir uncomfortably.

I ran into Dr. Maya Angelou’s poem Communication I a few years ago and it made me stop, think, and then sit down. It’s poem that surprises you then makes you realize that Angelou’s understanding of love is absolutely misleading in the sense that love between lovers might indeed be the same love for another. There is a sense of prowess with this poem and I believe that the balance between love and sincerity is proven deeply within Angelou’s layering and almost subtle hints of what’s to come.

Communication I

She wished of him a lover’s kiss and
nights of coupled twining.
They laced themselves
between the trees
and to the water’s edge.

Reminding her
they cratered moon lay light-years away,
he spoke of Greece, the Parthenon
and Cleopatra’s barge.

She splayed her foot
up to the shin
within the ocean’s brine.

He quoted Pope and Bernard Shaw
and Catcher in the Rye.

Her sandal lost,
she dried her  toe
and then she mopped her brow.

she walked into her room
and frankly told her mother,
“Of all he said, I understood
he said he loved another.”

Why I’m Here

Why I’m Here

I don’t stand too tall
nor do I speak like
Abraham nor do I walk
with jive and speed
like bumble hives on
a  warm sunny day
but I know why I’m here
and what I’m supposed to do.

I may not carry a tune with
sound of wisdom times faith
divided by square root of
some other number nor make the days
seem like ease on top of ease but
I do know why I am here and what
I am supposed to do.

 Like others, I may not grant
the kindest smile or extend my hands
with grace nor take the time to admire the
moon on crystal nights or make a mirror
of my image in your eyes but I know
why I’m here and what I am supposed to do. 

In other words, don’t clamor my style
by cutting short my worship and my attention
to what I am supposed to do because
my time as well as my heart doesn’t belong to you.

See, you tend to disagree for the sake
of disagreement but instead
let’s make your moment become our moment like
we used to do in the golden age?

When our minds were filled up like waterfalls
on a clear Sunday afternoon.

That’s why I am here and that is what I am supposed to do.

M. C. Davis 

I Want To Be Like Langston

I Want To Be Like Langston

The hills are too far for my reach
and I am desperately seeking a
way to understand his
words, ideas, and fantasies,
since I am here and he is there.
Life stumbles on like drunken soldiers
and I am dashing from your start
to my finish, wondering just how you
did that. I am lying around
and tempting myself into thinking
that you are at the gate
when all along you were
standing in the window
with your little yellow
pad, jotting metaphors
and dangling participles.
I want to be like Langston
because he knew what the soul
craved and he understood
how delicate words are to digested.
I want to be like Langston because
he understands my need for peace
and the trees that guard my gift
surrounding the culture within these bones.

M.C. Davis

Ms. Giovanni

I think even before I was even able to speak out my thoughts and feelings, I understood poetry and its rhythm. Still today, as an ever-pressing adult, I hear the rhythm in words and the nature of how innocently they sound when spoken within several layers of each other. I love this gift and I thank God for giving me an ear to understand what is usually said under one’s poetic breath. A wise poet should always an even wiser listener.

On another note, my passion for writing poetry gives way to an even deeper passion for reading poetry. Nikki Giovanni, who has always provided me with sound resolution as poet, has a wonderful poem that despite its short stature, it’s a Napoleon of a poem and resonates like a category 5 hurricane within my soul. I found this poem a few years ago since this gem of a find, I have read this poem at the beginning of every poetry reading I’ve ever hosted or been involved with. It’s called Communication and it’s fitting for what we are sharing at this moment:

Communicati on

if music is the most universal language
just think of me as one whole note

if science has the most perfect language
picture me as MC2

since mathematics can speak to the infinite
imagine me as 1 to the first power

what i mean is one day
i’m gonna grab your love
and you’ll be

Here’s a brief bio of Nikki Giovanni:

Nikki Giovanni was born Yolande Cornelia Giovanni, Jr. on June 7th, 1943 in Knoxville, Tennessee, but was later raised in the Lincoln Heights neighborhood of Cincinnati, Ohio. She attended the all-black Fisk University, where she became involved in both the Writers’ Workshop and the Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee. The connections between literature and politics would continue to absorb her attention for decades to come. In 1967, she became actively involved in the Black Arts movement, a loose coalition of African-American intellectuals who wrote politically and artistically radical poems aimed at raising awareness of black rights and promoting the struggle for racial equality. Radicalized by the assassination of Malcolm X and by the rise of the militant Black Panthers, her poetry in the 1960s and 1970s was colorful and combative; a recurrent theme of this era is the possible redundancy of poetry in the face of possible revolution. Nikki Giovanni is now a professor at Virginia Tech, where she currently teaches English.

She is truly an amazing voice, spirit, and beacon for how poets should examine their work but most of all, she is a realistic approach to taking a very simple element and making it completely and utterly intimate.

M.C. Davis

Source: http://nikki-giovanni.com/