Leaves of Grass ii

My ode to the poetic greats and myself. Don't know why I have been thinking a lot of Walt Whitman, Langston Hughes and Paul Laurence Dunbar, maybe because their contributions shaped me and my inner poet. They have been a part of every time period of my life.  When I was young, my mother instilled a love of Paul Laurence Dunbar teaching me how to recite his words and act them out. I can still recite with vigor his poem 'In the Morning.'  In high school, I fell in love with the social justice poetry of Langston Hughes: his words, to me, smooth, but sharp. In college, I performed a dramatic reading of parts of 'Leaves of Grass' with a poetry group. I will forever remember the synergy of that experience. 

Today, all those memories flooded back to me and I was overwhelmed and overjoyed. I could only write in response. This poem features my soul and some of the words of my poetic heroes.    

i.
I celebrate myself and sing 
  as the fallen leaves 
  give rise to a symphony of time revealed.

ii.
Life in various hues converge
  laughs on grape and vine
  remembering a childhood that drags black  
sometimes 
   festering like a sore, but never shall I forget
  wearing the masks of grins and lies 
where songs are loud but low
 memories are sweet and change like
  falling leaves. 

iii.
Tree firmed planted 
  seeds of a new song 
  of audacity and hope and awareness
 The song of myself
 inconceivable for some. Bold and brilliant!
 leaf fall 
  speaking bliss to me.

iv.
I believe in you, my soul--the other I am
  creator and being wrapped into one 
healing ancient wounds still open to the flesh
 Lover of me. Protector and provider.
Withholding nothing 
    wrapping me in the melodies of an eternal 
love song
  Arose today bloomed.
 
v.
You and I celebrate myself in all the golden hues of fallen, 
crushed leaves. 

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