My emotions
do not need
a stamp of approval
from angels in the Netherworld.
My devotion
does not need to be saluted
as it rises on a flagpole to be unfurled.
In many ways,
I am
a solitary man.
All I can offer is the feelings
within my heart
and the passion of the quill in my hand.
When mountains loom,
I never ask for a reprieve,
seek no alternative paths to take,
nor allow my inner demons to deceive.
Just a solitary man
with a chiesel and hammer,
chipping away at a mighty stone
with a manic desire
supported by a kingly manner.
My opinions are just,
yet only for one.
Unjust it would feel
for a man like me to run
from fault finding and critique,
now the audience interest
is peaked.
Wanting to accept few accolades
still reluctanly I bow
giving my all,
sweat cascading from my brow.
What I will accept
from the banquet is only
what I need.
My words and desires are mine.
In time
achieved
or
perhaps no?
Yet only forward I go,
charting a solitary course
surviving betrayal,
heartache,
separation and divorce.
At times separated from reality.
Just me,
a black man reluctanly
sailing on a restless sea.
My emotions
do not need
sympathy and such.
My devotion,
never seeks plenty,
never too much.
Just a man,
wanting to be left alone,
huritng no one,
prepared to live and die
on my own.
So many words,
opening doors,
yet the muse
can only be bruised,
when a ruse
becomes a daily chore.
Thus
I live with the outcome of one
accepting the hand destiny dealt
seeking no trial nor appeals
using words my heart deeply feels
comfortable in my solitude
for no one is home
the garden long overgrown
from dreams long denied
and still over the urban landscape
though one wing is useless I fly
daring the wind
to bring my flight to an end.
My emotions
are pure
always searching for signs
my devotion
implores
the muse to allow a complicated man
to be simply defined
I accept my many flaws
shouting to my enemies
though pain is felt
under the heat of your scrutiny
I refuse to melt
My friend
rest your tired feet
please
take my favorite chair
many times you will feel nothing is fair
but always be prepared
for this race is not
won by the swift
or the one
who has the most prodigus gifts
but to the one who exults in the light of day
and admits to being a slave to the night
accepting your few rights
yet never relinquishing the write
to fight wrongs.
I tell you this now
it is you i always admired and adored
the way you walk with grace
commanding the floor
you inspire me to stand
though at times i am reluctantly bold
always knowing the accolades i receive
have always been your love
reflecting in the mirror of my soul.

All Poetry by D.Greaves/Darwin Greaves by D.Greaves-Darwin Greaves is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at dgreaves.posterous.com.
Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://dgreaves.posterous.com/pages/dgreaves-tos