Honoring the Memory of John Lewis Greg Powell writes poem

Neowise Comet Crosses Bridge

(painting by Catherine A. Moore) We chased the comet, Descending like a teardrop It’s journey slashing polluted Onyx sky. And then the news John Lewis gone now John Lewis gone now. His Trail blaze righteously cutting Redemption way, dim, descending To rest with heroes under The earth, where they nurture Us in the night. The comet speaks And i see […]

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Beautiful Bird by Greg Powell for Jonathan

Beautiful Bird

(for my son, Jonathan, on his 15th birthday) pretty bird pecks orange beak on window. he’s made home in habitat, freedom of outside bushes. but he pecks against glass, collides with window over and over trying to break in. you open the window, invite bird to peck through screen/ break into little room. fear drives little bird away only to […]

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Kemet of Ancient Egypt by Greg Powell

Kemet

clouds float in flames as sun drops. rays beam through west window holding my face. caress skin blackened by healing Ra heat of home. i have made pilgrimage to holy lands, where spirits whispered and whispers in sun rays and smooth breeze slipping in open space. goddess speaks wisdom of earth and sky. commandments sung in tongues of communal drums. […]

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The 23-Year Walk by Greg Powell

The Twenty-Three-Year Walk

We keep walking baby We keep walking, in the sunshine like old Harriet said/ we keep moving Baby we keep moving. Every step a triumph over ghost lynchers riding horseback in squad cars. But the day is beautiful with love. 23 years of love strong and stronger to walk though shadow valleys of death and burning towns and flesh. Walking […]

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Greg Powell's Psalm of Uplift a poem dedicated to women

Psalm of Uplift

Lift handbag of regretful weight From sturdy shoulders Beloved, Shuddering in dance of tears Beneath strength profile. You got Enough weight to negotiate, Enough faith in your feet to press Against headwinds and jagged road, Migration through daily wilderness To your dreams. Ease into now Where peace and power reside. Within you is the fruit bearing seed Of your regrets. […]

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Fists Bullets and Blood, a poem of uplift to my brothers by Greg Powell

Fists, Bullets and Blood

Brother, I know rage like lava In dormant volcano pressed down By four centuries of stone stresses To explosions only we can feel, and Women we love and children we seed And community we embody, scarred by misdirected fists and bullets and blood. I say to you dying is a waste of life Rage inchoate is a waste of love […]

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Poem by Greg Powell is To Children of a People on the Rise

To Children of a People On the Rise

As read for the Black History Month Program for Seniors on the Move, a ministry of New Faith Baptist Church, International 1980 Panther people on the rise 1990 Panther people on the rise Year 2000’s Panther people on the rise Energize our minds/ we ride the skies In the 2020 the times is dark Corrupt eruption got the nation stark […]

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A Meditation on Being Hueman for Kobe by Greg Powell

Meditation on Being Hueman (for Kobe)

(for Kobe) The truth is we all walk through the valley of the shadow of death. And we all have opportunities to experience mountaintops. We have more in common than what we allow to separate us. The hoarders of wealth and power make great effort to distract and scare us away from this simple reality. We want to live in […]

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New Year's Psalm of Hope- Poetry by Greg Powell

New Year’s Psalm of Hope

another journey of green and deep blue Mother around sun. everything is a journey. through black spaces black matter black veins of universe womb. and tomb. and womb again. I pray she forgives our sins and refuses to die to us. but does forgiveness come without repentance. i hate my suv drinking dinosaur residue/ shitting death to the air we […]

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Hymn to an Elf Tree is a poem Greg Powell dedicates to his wife

Hymn to an Elf Tree

my Queen speaks love through arts and crafts, making pretty things/ making all things pretty. like the tree that greets me entering family room, son bouncing dropping dunks into nerf hoop. we hug and he asserts that the tree is extra. Corny, he says ’cause he is not a veteran of life/ not weathered soft enough to fully feel mommas […]

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