9 of 22 poems to my king: Birthday Variety

Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry.


Forte

Fear of the Brink?Wild blink.
Applaud withdrawin link to
Vital earth,fresh Ground-ed
Not sink
Blot ink. Cornucopia’s retreat…
Shroud miserable company
Now – Forgotten, Inc.

“Genie-ology”, lampshady labwork
Pick a Pair half-Work
Make it fully have worth
Crackles echo Skittle paper-
Thunderclad surf
Extremes, esteemin em things like Kings had serfs

My Lord,
Thy torn, World.
Reformed ever by Morn, hurled To-Day
Curly as cumulus, my Girl touché.
Inlaid through da Dust, scape curves voluminous
Fake shapes losin fluff
Proving us.
GodGold IncuPlated
You to Trust

By: (husband) Robert e. Fitzgerald a.k.a. Whip

8 out of 22 poems for my king: Birthday Variety

Love, Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry., RetroStank

to a jewel of a man,
always strong even in the dark.
my sunbeam.
love streams from my soul for u.
its a keynote, played at fortissimo.
i send u the fruit of my fancy.
as we pen this love tale.
forevermore.

-Ladylove blu (Lauren Fitzgerald, me)


7 out of 22 poems to my king: Birthday Variety

Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry.

doing things like driving alone at the dead of night.

scared on a lonely old country road in the pouring rain.

in black sequins and satin blazers, I reach Stuttgart and know I’m close.

Memphis is like the heavens to a Moon waiting to greet the Sun.

bank accounts on the slim sides don’t count none to a young pair.

a pair of dreamers.

 

finding a pillow for the Saint,

and now its seven-thirty,

and in the most sensuous way imaginable, two souls form a{maze} of embraces,

unraveling a love for each other in such a whispering way,

its just understood.

tender.

 

i can see the beauty in marriage when i see you sleep.

 

 

the country dinner i prepare signals nights to come.

that hour you got to think, I wonder what you thought?

before the errands for currency and smiles for two at nineties’ movies and you falling asleep before me.

 

Monday.

when we can hardly getout the bed for tangling in it.

ice and acrobatics.

mmmmm

this love has a green apple and caramel taste to it.

water in dem curls of yours.

 

fried fish, fries, friends, baked beans, broken ice machines, and tomato relish.

then once again we’re off, to divide once more.

the last kiss is the sweetest.

By: (Me) Lauren Fitzgerald

“Ruby Slipperz” 6 out of 22 poems to my king: Birthday Variety

Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry.

We search, seek, and destroy for distractions.

Unfulfilled in distant lands…400 years still aint home.

 

Bronze fingers.

 

Sometimes when you leave home you caint go back.

Cuz it’s not where you left it.

 

Vice Chancellors patronize, advising just take 

This semester as a mental break.

 

Aint no open arms for some…

 

Starving the same way out of school as in.

College ramen-noodle diets.

Pet dogs eat better and more often.

  

By: Lauren Fitzgerald 

5 out of 22 poems to my king: Birthday Variety

Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry.

Zones 1-6

atlanta is a place where nobody asks where you from

it dont matter as we blend in together,

making a beautiful harmony of colors.

funky free,

i feeeeel my star brightening the avenue as i slightly gallop through little five points,  

trying to outrun the rain

laughter lives here, it collects in the air

atlanta is a dreamland

head spins loose in a trance

entrance granted

you knew the password

Maggot Brain

the bass based in my heartbeat 

the song in my veins

he will never leave you, he just visits other places 

always thinking of you

Atlanta with hands of a master teacher

giving me lessons on how to survive with my head up and my soul alive

gulps of air and teary vision

hazel leaves decorate city streets and the sun dries me like a towel after a shower

fumbling trying to click on the internal flashlights that number 144

she’s both bitch and beauty

that lady Atlanta

just to touch her again

her cacophony of street hollers and bus sounds

eat to your hearts desire

she will fill you again and again


4 out 22 poems to my king: Birthday Variety

Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry.

 

Mister Fur 

 

By: (Me)Lauren “Crayola Mae” Fitzgerald

 

You look new. 

And I’m taken in.

Not wasting a moment of this, gotta have leftovers.

Something for my mind to eat on when you depart from my space. 

Tragically in love with you, razor sharp feelings that cannot be dulled by 

anything. 

Not the ashes that grace the ground where ambition burned our present union. 

You whispered to me, babygirl you’re amazing, and I wonder if you truly believe 

how much? 

And that just brought tears to my eyes, sent a tremble in motion from crown to 

foot soles and from physical to soul.

Overlook the past, I plead.

My heart falls from my sleeve and you dust it off and put it back, back where it’s posed to go, 

in the left chest cavity.

Brilliance cloaks you as a skin, a pelt of fur of the most unique beast.

Animal and god, and what am I? 

The powerful petite. Word woman.

3 out of 22 poems to my king: Birthday Variety

Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry.

 

“Indian Ocean” 

10.8.12


Slightly wet eyes

Come about for an assortment of reasons.

Because a white-pearl stained dress blemished with diamonds and embroidery stands opposite a sharp sable-toned tuxedo.

Or maybe the first steps of a firstborn.

Or after a song sung so soulfully in Sunday service.

7

8

Spritely strolls across stages, hands itching to palm rolled paper deservingly secured and mightily merited

Movies, wars, surprise birthday parties, sickness, or bills

Yeah, tears run into eyeballs and jump out ready to greet the world


 

2 of 22 poems to my king: Birthday Variety (original poetry)

Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry.

Venus

 

The ditches look good with no water in them.

Clean, even.  

More like a Mocksville than a Nashville. 

The morning air is still and sweet.

I take a long drag of it. 

Despite the fact that we were just rushing around like demons busy on this Earth.

Cuz we woke up thirty minutes too late, and you were posed to do the prayer at 10 o’clock service.

I get in the passenger seat of my car, smile at you.

I guess you were thinking about not being late and I was thinking about how beautiful you are, 

how handsome of a spirit ambling among us regular menfolk, womenfolk. 

You’re sharp.

Can speak to anybody, hell I suspect you could chop it up with the Head of State right now, leave him with his mouth dropped.

“Wow”.

You could get the bitterest of bitter bitty to show you what’s left of her teeth.  

And that’s why I love you, beyond belief.


By: Me (Lauren Fitzgerald)