Sun splash, 

Crystal Palace,

Bob Marley and green pear tea.

Pancake breakfast for three:

The century before cars, ministers travelled on their feet.

Prayer amidst the pain, mellifluous and soothing.

Rich enough to spare a smile when the  purse is down to dimes. 

Life (is) spiced by relationships.

As permanent as white beaded anklets, sincerity is its own tatoo.

The ratio of joy to rain is 3:2.

-R.S.

Written 5-2-2015 amidst surviving.

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Sweet Orchard Skittles

Posted in Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry.

11 out of 22 poems for my king: Birthday Variety

tingle

9-20-2012

A Thursday where aunts die and grandmothers’ earth suits are viewed without breath or blood.
Wherein attempts to revitalize yourself, you wore your brightest summer shades: pink, teal, and orange.
Your heart aches at constant ripping and repair, scattered with sawdust.
Exhausted with dosages of heartbreak medicine.
Little snack-size dark chocolates cannot sweeten the bitter taste.
The coarsest wool salts against raw skin, applauding the assortment of thoughts and fears.
Frosted with the softest sprinkles of high voltages of intense emotion,
you linger
Like an afflicted body spread on a racing gurney with closed eyes and labored breath,
sensing the changes in light from hall to hall and room to room.
But this is not movie, not at all a feature film,
this is our life.
Absorbent of both the best and the worst of what the lowlands have to offer.
Let it all fade away, tie your sunbonnet under the walnut tree and hum spirituals until everything stops.
Freeze.
A birth has been reported.
A rebirth has been reported.
The corset of life has been loosened,
The wallet that contains your strength is filled.
Back in orbit.


Posted in Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry.

10 out of 22 poems to my king: Birthday Variety

Limbo, Limbo, Limbo

Slink your shoulders underneath the broom bar, 
Tilt your back towards the Earth.
Ah, this middle ground betwixt near and far,
A pose to prep for passing; checkpoint before rebirth.

Fair-warnings blow to let not this game 
Become a humble abode, a phase become a form.
Not cold, not hot. Nor bold, nor tame.
Limbo outperforms none, what a drab cruciform!
To hang, nailed hands, awaiting death and fire.
Before I land in limbo again, I would rather fall on a spire.
Posted in Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry.

9 of 22 poems to my king: Birthday Variety


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

Posted in Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry.

7 out of 22 poems to my king: Birthday Variety

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

Posted in Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry.

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

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 

Posted in Poems for my king: Birthday Variety, poetry.

5 out of 22 poems to my king: Birthday Variety

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