Surviving Life

©2017 E. R. Smith

Surviving soul seeks

in states of art to master

and plaster to self

so not to be found wanting

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Party Girls Why Do You Hate Me?

©2017 E. R. Smith

Party girls why do you hate me?

You dated early choice boys who forsook me

Always invited to the party or to club

Me? Home studying how to live above

How do I move from welfare to fairing well?

Well, I missed the parties, the boys, your circle of love

Party girls why do you hate me, I adore your pretty babies?

Stopped by every shower to shower you with a first paycheck gift

Left wondering at the ousted feeling on my skin,  a bad whiff

Why do you hate me? I wondered at the choices of mates you mated!

Jealous of the choice boys you sampled in the community

Wanting to be held, but more held above other women, highly rated

I waited….a    long    time.   Saw you all from time to time; raising families

Jealous of the love surrounding you, wandering where mine lay hiding

Graduated BS, MSEd., good job, okay looking lady seeking family

God sent him and then my dearest daughter’s love, abiding

Married black family rare and true, but I’ve done nothing to you

So, why do you hate me, when’ve I’ve only envied how God blessed you?

Too Fresh to Pick

©2017 E. R. Smith

Stand side line watching players ball

Sweat flying, limbs sleek and poised

Alphas in their prime, gorgeous and tall

Ten wonders, beyond average boys

Heart pounding, in awe of design

Taking in all of the whole of them

Eyes large with possible, uncross align

Preparing to pick the best gem

Picky girl observing on high bleachers

Recalled she’s fresh fifteen

Life with these  remarkable creatures

Just for now,  a vivid dream

Creepy Caper Served Cold

©2017 E. R. Smith ,

Slinky sliding, floor warm sticky.  Straight to my goal, aimed   Sounds of rocks on gravel almost deafening.  Room is dark, shadowy like Scooby Doo, when crew enters a place they have no business.  Fan on High, ’cause it’s way too hot.  Crawl sliding, middle of  bedroom behind fan; I stop.  Noise really is loud.  Prepare weapons.  Study victims.  Migdalia, her side, snoring like she’s fighting to breathe, but losing.  Next bed, Mary, mouth open like she’s yelling at ‘Dalia.  Toss my weapons into air.  About a thousand tiny pieces of paper land on them from overhead.  Watch them wake screaming, swatting.  They think insects.  I smile.  Every time they break something  in my room, I feel like swatting them.  Big sister revenge takes planning, maybe losing a night’s sleep; totally worth it.  We are way better at appropriate punishment than parents.  

Can I Just Park in Peace?

©2017 E. R. Smith

laze, lounge, park by sea

open essence, overdue

surf side skin drinks deep

quench spirit, dye aura hue

erect peace attach to spine