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Sondra's Poetry Gallery

 Welcome to my poetry gallery. I write many styles of poetry including African American Poetry or what some might call poetry from Black America.  I began writing poetry as early as my grade school years. Since then through experience and studies I have put words into play, expressions, literal meanings, articles, writings of different cultures, new ideas, verbal interpretations and done a variety of writing.  I have read many poems by black poets or African American poets and writing of other cultures.  I have been inspired by many of the following writers: Maya Angelou, Paul L. Dunbar, Nikki Giovanni, Gwendolyn Brooks, W.E.B. DuBois, Arna Bontemps, Langston Hughes, Phyllis Wheatley, Jessie Redmon Fauset, James Weldon Johnson, Ntozake Shange, Margaret Walker, and Claude McKay.

 (Source: ctadams.com and afropoets.com)

I'm a Little Poem

I'm a little poem,

I'll tell you why,

The hummingbirds humm,

And the blue birds fly.

I'm a little poem,

I'll tell you why,

The seasons change,

And how the days go by.

I'm a little poem,

I'll tell you why,

People travel around,

Weather train, bus or fly.

I'm a little poem,

I can guide you through,

Things going on,

Old or new.

I'm a little poem,

Just a couple of lines,

Mabye I'll even,

Make it rhyme this time.

The Bongos

 Around

 the park we sat.

We listened to the beat.

We talked about the things we heard.

Music!

 Beat On!

 Bongos rang out there.

 We pictured being in

A jungle or some distant land.

Africa.

At once,

Black men took strokes

They sat in a circle.

There were about eight men in there,

Heated!

Lady Lady

Lady Lady, Honey Pie,

Don't you wanna come by?

Cooked some Honey Bar BQ,

Don't you want some of it too?

Lady let me drive your car.

I won't take it very far.

If I have you by my side,

We'll just go and take a ride.

Lady, you look kinda sweet,

Cause your clothes is very neat.

Let me take you to the store,

You can buy yourself some more.

Lady, like the sky is above,

I'm gonna show you some love.

When you get the chance come by,

I won't let you see me cry.  

I Hear Women Singing

I hear women singing throughout the world.

Chorus of culture,

For men, women boys and girls.

A tree of music,

With many branches.

A reflection of ones existence,

And life's many chances.

I hear women sing,

Throughout the world.

Flows with natural rythm from within,

A mirror of the personalities of where they begin.

They feel the words-give sound-voice,

Bringing people together eagerly without a choice.

I hear women sing,

Throughout the world.

With voices of richness and and diversity they bring,

Songs of heartache  or joy they sing.

They swing;they sing-so smooth,

Spirituals, cries, hymns and blues.  

The Open Ring

Look through the open ring,

You will see many things,

It is a ring where many opportunities open up.

A ring where charatible contributions are given but

In this ring love continues to grow.

A feeling of warmth and happines has a steady flow.

 You see through the ring poets writing,

 people singing, men and women working,

Teachers teaching, and schools enrolling.

Many go onstage to act,

All on the news steadily informing,

People dining, families gathering-a continued welcome matt.

Writers never stop writing in the open ring,

They continually write about mant things.

Children never stop growing tall,

They learn not some things but many and all.

This is a ring, that with good deeds, never closes,

Like an afternoon sunshine that rarely dozes.

Raisin Wheat

The alarm clock rang at 6:00.

They always woke up together.

Alert and ready to take in the world and it's mix.

Another day.

Wanting that satisfaction that always came

Early in the morning before their goals

Could make their way to fame.

Raisin Wheat.

The table always decorated so right,

Blue cloth covering interlaced with ruffles,

Plates, cups, and utensils sat in place tucked in tight.

Urban scene.

The smell lingers from the kitchen pots

Into the breakfast area, where they sat.

Hot cereal, eggs, sausage-all buttered hot.

Mouth water.

Like in a camera, the pictures flow through one's mind.

How the first meal of the day, started them on their way.

Soon as always time for them to eat their favorite all the time.

Raisin Wheat.

The Door Is Now Fixed

There is a man that lives two blocks down.

He's the repair man-Mr. Fix it in town.

They say he's prompt.

And they say he's quick.

He dosen't waste your time,

And he will charge you just a little bit.

A neighbor asked me the other day

What do you need repaired, If your not ashamed to say!

I told her I had a door,

With many holes and cracks.

That door has kept me hungry

And held me back,

She said she would send The repairman down my way,

To look at the door and see

What he would say.

Lo and Behold, the repair man agreed!

A new door to life is what you need.

He patched and nailed

And thought about it twice.

After a while it turned out so nice.

I can walk through that door and never fear,

Opportunity is near and success is here.

My Body Is My Home

My body is my home.

It is where I live. My whole world inside,

Where I take and give.

 My body is my home.

 I take it where I go.

I carry it with care,

 As I go to and fro.

My body is my home.

I nourish it everyday.

Many foods and liquids I eat,

And reward it with a treat.

My body is my home,

It likes to go places.

To be around other people,

And to see many faces.

My body is my home.

 I drive it to the store,

 To shopping, to visit, To entertainment and more.

My body is my home.

 It interprets the world around,

Lives with many people,

 In a busy little town.