Tuesday, June 9, 2015

Marchell Dyon- Three Poems

In loving jest you’d walk me to the bus stop corner.
From there I waved goodbye till your shoulders turned the corner.
I believed once that together we could weather any storm.
Didn’t you promised better days and blue skies were just around the corner.
Happy to wait on rainbows when the roof is leaking proved not to be our style
We wanted the recession in our lives to quickly turn that corner.
You were laid off for a year, you didn’t mind it
Because I played the understanding spouse, the first to be in your corner.
We were poverty’s children, and to you it seemed not to matter.
I wanted more than a two room shack and eight corners.
We need only a spark and we are a tinderbox waiting to explode.
We are no longer speaking, no going back. Yes, we have turned that corner.
We box around the issues we don’t care to declare,
We round off each match in our neutral corners.
Referees are as good as lawyers;
When a couple decides to turn the divorce corner.
 In better days, our love stained each and every corner.
Now love decompose, our once apple hearts rot together in a corner.
(For Mike)
You are a rose in color that blooms not only for a season.
This bouquet of words, I have made for you my brother.
In search of love, you have plowed and planted
You will harvest the wheat in time, my brother.
In your reaping may you find a good partner
Rock solid in good times and bad, all for you, my brother
With fists cradle to the sky, you did not say you were lonely.
Know the words you signed did not fall on deaf ears, my brother.
When you are deployed, often we all sit on mom’s porch
Now remembering we are incomplete, alone without you, my brother.
You are beautiful, a harbor through the storms of life.
You are a protective rainbow, a shield, this you give us, my brother.
You are a rose in color that blooms not only for a season.
This bouquet of words, I have made for you, my brother.
(For Marland)
I saw your face again in dreams.
Your smile cracked again with age in dreams.
Often you are the same as when we parted.
Most often you are a child in dreams.
In the heat of summer and the frost of winter
Let them pass by for you, into a glorious spring in dreams.
As Stephanie Mills sang in the song Home
“Time be my friend let me start again,” if only in dreams.
Time in a jail house rocks away slowly
The bars even try to capture the soul in dreams,
But your soul is too quick to be shackled down.
Can the soul sing away all cages? Where if not in dreams?
As we grow old in our skin, these eyes remembered only youth
In a place where we’re never depressed, but always triumphant in dreams.
A place where there isn’t any walls of glass between us
No guards, no wires, and no guns, allowed in dreams.
To give to Caesar what’s owed Caesar is the time paid back by you
But the mind, heart, hands, isn’t his in dreams
Visit me often you say, I‘ll take the high road, you take the low road,
Let’s meet in the middle somewhere in dreams. 
Bio: Marchell Dyon is a forty year old disabled poet. She believes her disability has inspired her creative spark. Her poetry has been published in many publications including  
Silver Blade Magazine and Torrid Literature Journal. She is from Chicago IL.

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