Kissing Statues
By
Whitney Word
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Published by GoodSamaritan Press at Smashwords
Copyright 2012
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Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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About the Poet
Ms Whitney Word is an American Poet – she has written poetry for almost half of her life. She resides in Chaleston, Missouri. She greatly appraise the Lord for his favor on her life. Ms Whitney-Word is also an African American Poet. Her poetry has an American accent. She has written several chapbooks – her last book was entitled Frame – which she had published in Thailand.
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Note
I would like to thank God – the head of my life.
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It Was Like Medicine Filling a River
His words were like medicine filling a ditch
When you first began to want my soul
My last tile had been peeled off the floor
When the plucking season came
Sometimes it rained, sometimes the sun would shine
There were many night I went to sleep hungry for Jesus
Decorations and dedications were not as much as self help
The past life was gone there was nothing left on the shelf
I had to start over
Like firecracker in season one I was still young
The damsel in distress
When morning came I gathered my goods
When night came I prayed to move on
The soft Christ-like prayers seldom serenity me
Oh how beautiful this all was at first
My love for Jesus bigger than any fallen star
It was like heaven here on earth what a joy
Then his words grew hard and heavy, the wheel was
Hard to turn
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The City of Love, Morning
The sunbeam on the door
The arising smells of morning coffee
Egg yolks being broken
Like virgin mating moth
The windowsil cracked open
As I my hand reached underneath
As to pull an egg from a nesting hen
Underneath the window to get some
Fresh air from the stale
Smell in the kitchen,
Of bleach and rust from the sink
Now I was about sitting on the edge of my
Seat As I heard a siren went blowing by
I said a silent prayer
An echo from the commode
Sizzled as I flush the toilet
The ranking of things standing around the
Place after maintenance
I took care of the lawn
And the snow the rest
Until Spring begins.
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Clean Hands and a Good Heart
I was ashame
Ashamed of my hair
Ashamed of the clothes I wear
Even ashame of the skin
I was in.
Unlike the sunset arrayed in rubies
Like the sun I wasn’t arrayed in topaz
And I was not like the moon either
Adorned in a blue suede gown
I dislike the word ashame
The word almost cost me
My fame, my name
I tried to rescue myself
Cover myself invisible
And slip out of the field of lea
There, were many of times
When I was in the fire
When I was on trial
But I escaped it