Pride in His Stride is a poem inspired by Greg's son's graduation

Pride in His Stride

Ancestral pride is in his stride, His destiny forward march Refined in pressure of midnight hours Refusing surrender to slumber as mind Wrestled with knowledge until It blessed and changed his name. I Don’t know him, but feel his triumphant Procession around the corner, walking In flight to future purchased by prayers. Warm breeze dripping off robe Like black wings/ […]

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Greg Powell pens a poem about his family farm

Break the Soil

Break the soil Plant the crop New life begins When seed drop Sun beams down Caress the ground Soon rain come Roots abound This how we live Love seed we give Fruit we bear When we forgive And grow in earth Divine rebirth In common Spirit We all have worth Let’s break the soil Plant the crop Hueman uprising From […]

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Mother's Glory, a poem by Greg Powell to his favorite mother

Mother’s Glory

Love so profound it’s umbilical Cord of life, of beauty so lyrical Transcending pain and death mystical Moments and memories sweetly whimsical Shared heartbeat drumming musical Tears that drip joys not tragical Eyes glisten with peace spell magical Got mother in spirit and mother by my side Couldn’t imagine the trip when she was my bride She became mother before […]

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Daddy's Voice by Greg Powell - poetry for Being Hueman

Daddy’s Voice

(For Dad’s 87th Birthday) Memories dim and refracted In days gone and presently lived Of Daddy’s voice, barely remembered. But presence magnified/ residue like Star dust everywhere And in everything I am. He taught me a man can love With beauty beyond gender Nourish a garden he didn’t Even know how to plant. How Did you do it, I asked […]

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Song of a Free Soul written in 2002 by Greg Powell

Song of a Free Soul

(For Joetta Powell & all cancer overcomers) I live! I am alive! I am life! Yes! I journey through days and precious moments, I keep on climbing higher and higher My pain cannot diminish my promise. I live, And am blessed, so in my journey, I rise to bless. Tears flow, then cease to trouble me. My clear eyes 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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Deborah Powell, his wife, is the inspiration for Journey to the End of Our World

Journey to the End of Our World

opaque clouds rush over expanse of heated sky above raised face giving thanks for you, my love, our love like sun shining by faith and not by sight. we hurdle together toward end of the world our love revealing beauty and peace be still under boiling sky. The end is nigh, ground whispers to me from deep beneath concrete under […]

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Greg Powell pens a poem giving thanks for Thanksgiving

Thanks Giving

I am thankful for this breath, these words tumbling from rugged gravel road of life being lived on edge of time slipping away. I embrace this edge, this path, the ancient warrior called shadow of death where I feel painfully alive. I embrace praise song of steps and breaths/ soul hands reaching for common hands and God and hope, straining […]

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Greg Powell pens The Descent a poem of love

The Descent

sometime in the time outside time, Jah Love dipped they hand in black matter, the Creator Artist’s raw creation soul soup and stirred in nebula placenta for life genesis. found a righteous man and woman in a place far from America / Earle Arkansas, sharecroppers’ domain. poured into mind heart soul womb penis in cotton field encounters of black matter […]

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The Night Clouds Ate the Moon by Greg Powell

The Night Clouds Ate the Moon

The Night Clouds Ate the Moon Strange May night chill breeze gray black clouds rush in black above And beyond. Faster than ever before. The earth warming chill night, sky Boiling froth of clouds drawn to Messenger moon speaking sun codes To moaning earth. Is it labor or death? Labor or death… or both birthing Children of dust and storm […]

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