Elizabeth Kudebeh
Elizabeth Kudebeh Poems
Henry David Thoreau stated,
“If a man does not keep pace with his companions,
Perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer.”
Linda Ronstadt sang,
...
I want to blend.
I want to be swallowed up by the brick wall I pace in front of.
I want to be taken in by the grit and grout.
I want to become one of many,
...
A thief has come in
And cut out the ends
To our perfectly woven excuse
And unravel it does
...
Eyelids are exaggerated.
Plumped up and sneaking over eye whites.
Bloated and sickly,
Engulfing lashes and all warmth.
...
Your snide comments
Made our kisses taste of irony,
That hard metallic sting.
Gone with soft tenderness
...
Listen closely…
Let your body go.
Let it fall and hope it lands where it began.
It is of no consequence now, your earthly possessions.
...
Between those painted lines you draw
Sits a man who will tell you what really happened.
He replies in gruff tones unfit for virgin ears
And ears brave enough to listen will then have wilted minds.
...
Please remember
Our sweeter time,
Like nectar on our skin.
When we were young we could love without caring
...
With the tapered off finger of the trees
At eye level,
We sit on the rotted out porch
That much closer to the sky.
...
One of many, we form a whole.
I am hugged by grout,
Constricted, yet constructing.
...
The only thing left over to remind you of last night
Is the syrupy sadness in the last of your bottles.
See if you can force it past your throat,
Into your stomach, so it can sit there,
...
When the warmth blossomed from my cheek,
I could almost feel the shift in the future.
Tears stained pink no longer meant happiness,
And the pink stain was no longer metaphoric.
...
The Best Poem Of Elizabeth Kudebeh
Thoreau And The Art Of Rebellion
Henry David Thoreau stated,
“If a man does not keep pace with his companions,
Perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer.”
Linda Ronstadt sang,
“You and I travel to the beat of a different drum”
The drum beat pulses throughout our life.
Crescendoing and pattering.
So many people,
Do their drumbeats ever intertwine?
Those people skipping ahead,
A soft, quick pitter-patter of a drum beat.
And those that fall slightly behind,
Their beat off from the rest,
But just by a half-beat,
Not enough to fully notice, and barely too loud.
If I went to the quiet of Walden Pond,
And held my ear cupped in my palm,
Could I hear the beat you left behind?
To sit and listen in the crowds of a city,
Would be deafening.
“Say what you have to say, not what you ought.
Any truth is better than make-believe.”
Is what Henry David Thoreau mused.
When we were only children,
And only make-believe was regarded as the highest power,
We said what we ought of, and did what we should have.
And as we grow into our minds,
We will discover in the corners lies a deep understanding
That only truth should be exposed as true,
And make-believe unveiled as lies.
“Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you've imagined. As you simplify your life, the laws of the universe will be simpler.”
Exclaimed Henry David Thoreau.
Rebellion is in perspective.
In the mind’s eye, you hold all things familiar to you.
Straying from those, to venture into new territory,
Is to rebel in your mind.
And to act out of character,
From pure spontaneity,
Is to step out of who you are
And step out of who you are expected to be.
While you march along to your drums,
I dance.
I not only hear a drum,
I hear a saxophone, a trumpet, a cello.
I can snap my fingers in time,
Tapping my feet along the way to where I am traveling.
And when I arrive,
I will have a head full of more than just simple beats,
I will have a head full of music.
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4/26/2024 11:01:23 PM # 1.0.0.1119
