The Golden Goddess

She's the Golden Goddess,

A great writer but always modest.

Teaches us N critically honest,

One of the few I'll truly miss.  

She's either mixed, coloured or black,

With pronouns that tickle my sack. 

Her skin will never ever crack,

N her writing is pretty whack. 

We all listen like kids,

As she lifts the literary lid. 

On poetry n stories already writ,

N let's us write our own shit.

She's a full Zoom faced wonder,

Teaches us all like rumbly thunder. 

Lightening fast we're no longer dumber,

N she ignores R odd writing blunder.

Our lessons R always a blast, 

Making us write gold, so very fast. 

Puts her college kids on their own arse, 

So I jus hope, my own poems will last. 

The Golden Goddess was a gift to me,

She helped set my own writing free.

But from Covid, we all had 2 flee,

To Facebook, phones n PCs.

So to Michele, I'll always say,

That on my very own final day.

I will appreciate u deeply always,

For allowing my work 2 B displayed. 

© 2024 - All Rights Reserved - Robert Reid

Black

I feel black like a smack and the crack of the back,

Slowly drifting to the end with no coming back.

I am living in the dark coz it keeps me warm,

But I am in pain from the blood stains from the bandages warn.

My bleed is a seed that apparently is making me ill,

So looking forward to that op and the drink I’ll down, pig swill.

Black is the light of the night and sunrise to me,

Go to bed at 5 or 6 and I wake up at midnight you see.

Then everything is chill and I can type away,

The night is my time, if I had to choose when to play,

I only get out of bed early if there is a dox or hoz appointment that day.

Building my BOT, writing, and doing stuff other people do in the day.

And black is the slack in my creaking old back,

With bones and nerves in pain as if I’ve been strung on the rack.

It’s not really a colour but the absence of them all,

But black is the colour that keeps me climbing the wall.

© All Rights Reserved 2022 By Robert Reid