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Three Poems


By Bob McNeil


Saturday, December 06, 2014.


A Versified Voyage

Another boy was raised at the Hudson River
With a firm Earth Sign—
A promising limb on an African tree—
And The Thinker, his archetype,
Sat beneath his unburdened brow.
24 seasons later,
The child scrutinized
The Lost Tribe’s Jerusalem—Harlem.
And Like East 127th Street’s Shakespeare,
Langston Hughes,
The boy embraced his race.
At 54 seasons,
The boy became a knowledge-consuming entity
Learning about African-rhythmic prose, odes,
Bantu, Zulu, Malinke, Yoruba,
South of the Sahara songs.
The child traveled
The geography of his mentality
With David Diop, Dadie,
Césaire and Senghor,
Poets who created the seeds
That became Afrocentric Breeds.
To the boy,
These poets were sight-igniting keys.
By plying those keys,
He opened doors to vistas
Where Black people were birthing
A renown-bound future.
Eluding adult’s brimstone-sizzling stress,
Beneath a dirt-antiquated tree,
He studied comfortably
And saw the spirits of the pundits.
At 55 seasons,
With his ever-present pen and paper,
He was runner-in-a-race-inspired—
Those were his sight-igniting keys.
By plying those keys,
The child and a page converged
And an aged griot emerged.

by Bob McNeil
Copyright 2014

Sword of Words

we create
we shape
we mold
a cosmos of star-lustered concepts with words
God-hallowed words
sage-made words
Adam-ancient words
sermon-mounting words
we write
we inspect
we dissect
exposing our love-housing hearts
exposing our world-impaired spirits
we infuse each page with words
passion-inclined words
birth-painful words
war-morbid words
rainbow-garnished words
the serum, language
flows from our veins
words are forces
possessing an artery
to assault or soothe
we're poets
throughout our souls
throughout our limbs
we feel our poems

by Bob McNeil
Copyright 2014

Heal, Alkebulan, Heal

Heal, Alkebulan, Heal!
Your burdens have been large and long.
You have been abused by dictators,
The native, the foreign, the mutually wrong.
Heal, Alkebulan, Heal!
Your burdens have been large and long.
Stampede these dictatorships.
Use your herd that is both large and strong.
Heal, Alkebulan, Heal!
Conjure your nigrescent elephants.
Destroy rifle bullet tyrants.
Trample their policies and rants.
Heal, Alkebulan, Heal!
Your potential is large and round.
You will near cheerfulness
Along your continental mounds.
Heal, Alkebulan, Heal!
Your potential is regal and round.
You will see liberation grow
On your gladsome grounds.
Heal, Alkebulan, Heal!

by Bob McNeil
Copyright 2014

Poetry by Bob McNeil

From: Julian | 12.Oct.2015 @01:54:00 | Add Comment
Victorious poetry, Brother McNeil! I'll help it get around????
From: John Squire | 4.Jan.2015 @21:22:00 | Add Comment
From: Poetical Angel Queen | 26.Dec.2014 @17:28:00 | Add Comment
Fabulous art of the poetry. LOVE THEM ALL

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