K.L. de Ville | Collection
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Collection

Bending Time

If I could turn back the hands of time
bending time
I would turn corners
Jump through the magical loops of mystery
Just to find the words to make you feel alright.

If I could bend time
I would squeeze through trees
tumble across the Serengeti
lap, sip, and drink the Atlantic
All to show you the depths of my love
That runs deeper than surface to crust.

The voided crater you were unfortunately given at birth is not yours to own.

If I could bend time
I would store up filled wishes, kisses
Many ways to let you know you’re missed when away
And spin them all into a woven baby’s blanket
Waiting for you
When you made your entry through womb to mother’s earth.
I’ll wrap it over, under, and beside you
To shield the ills, chills
And lack you grew to embrace as your heart home.

If I could bend time
I would fold back to the day you laughed instead of cried
The day you accepted crumbs for love
To the day when you heard said,
You weren’t good enough
Would never be anything
And scoop you up to lollipop your ears
To hear the sweetness and softness of your developing heart.

If I could bend time
I would bend it with only you in mind
To let you feel love entering through your first breath
To your last heartbeat.

I’ll love you forever
Even when time is not on our side
I’ll bend it with only you in mind
If I could bend time…..

Game On

Before the eve of Monday
the burden of the day
attempted to slay me

Yet I survive
When the immediate anger set in
my unconscious mind said
you can’t sway me
Because I thrive

As life played the test
to dismiss my unwarranted stress
My mind did not rest
but began to express
my ultimate quest
I will not be moved

As the sand of the sea
remain too many to count
my drive will forever prove
I can revive

I am strong and mighty
driven to succeed

I will break the barriers
sent to bury us
What you need
I will be this for you

What you bleed
I will help to see you through

We can do this
one task at a time
Stand with me and hold my hand
because as long as we are one
the battle is already won!

Wait for the Light

Trees blowing in the wind the leaves of autumn hues Soaring wing-spanned creatures sailing across the sun-streaked sky Young’ins bundled in winter wear shuffling to their daily grind On the corner one is found waiting for the light to cross Hoping the bus doesn’t rush the remnants of last night’s rain across her frame Who would have guessed who would have wondered how this beautiful, gracious lady Would speak those words, to this one, on this day, On the corner, while one waits, for the light to cross

Good morning my fair child do you know who you are? Do you know the angels clamor to sing your song? Do you know they wait to catch you when you fall? Do you know you are wonderfully gifted and true? Didn’t you know the heavens burst full when you descended to your earthly place? Do you know who you are?

My good lady, how kind your words are to my ears, indeed they are.

My fair child my words are true, my words are of you.

You are a vision that was seen long before your very existence.

A prayer prayed by one who would never lose their hope of you.

A burning desire kindled over time in hopes one day to be found.

Walk tall my child, hold your head up and know you are truly blessed.

When you sing your song know you don’t sing alone.

When you trip and fall, know that you can ascend with the wings beneath you.

Everything you touch, will be transformed.
Every word you speak, will be heard.
Lives will be changed, dreams realized, birth of hope will abound.

Why my dear child?

Why indeed, you were sent to love, to give, and share.

So don’t despair when selfishness, malice, and lies cross your path.

Your light will never dim

Your love will never tarnish

Your sharing will never tire

Your giving never end

Now cross my child, your light has changed and never again will you be the same.

Oh what joy can be found when you wait for the light to cross……

The Tradition of Conditions

The Tradition of Conditions can alter your core
The Tradition of Conditions can ruin your soul

The meaning of your being is to express your honest heart
Yet the tradition of conditions can lean you to be not
Find your way to shine each day
Open your heart no matter the start

Wanting and needing we all do
Yet giving and fulfilling only a few

Picked from the vine you’re one of a kind
Lean not to your own understanding
And rest assured your promise is in view

If the conditions you formed as a tradition
Is one you can lose.

Unwind Your Design

The human emotions
are inapplicably intertwined
with the ultimate search
to find someone

who can unwind
the constant gnawing
that hides inside
every unmet feeling
of our intimate mind.
Although we know
We yet to define
That the troubling season
is all by design.

A letter to Mother Angelou: “Pray Mother Pray”

Your writing is amazing.
Your voice is very clear.
Every time I read your story
it awakens my sleeping pen.
You are my inspiration.
I am your unknown muse.
Your life, your journeys, I thank you
for sharing them all, as you so eloquently do.

From your pen lives have been changed.
The courage to speak — to dream — to hope
and even visualize are birthed from the reading of your life’s work.
Oh, how amazing Mother Angelou you are.
Yes, the phenomenal woman that you are.
I hesitate to even speak from my pen
to express the fullness from my heart of your wondrous work.
My pen, be it in its infantile state,
dares to write the joy and motivation you bring to mind.

Last night I completed “A Song flew up to Heaven”.
It was well passed one am on the eve of a working day,
but when I contemplated to lay it down
my heart wrestled against it and won.
Your words moved me more than any I have ever heard.
Once done, I reflected as I laid to rest.
My mind, constantly singing with words streamed together beautifully.
The bravado of my voice is clear and pleasantly set.
The symphony played its piece all night as my lullaby sweet,
which didn’t fail to wake me to begin my duty-filled day.

I thank you Mother Angelou for giving us you,
for the sharing of Guy, Mother Vivian, Bailey,
the ‘Strong African Man’ and your elite friends.
Oh, how amazed I was to read of each one.
To read how life played its lovely song in your life
A minuet here; many symphonic poems there;
all outfitted with the beloved highlife of experiences for all.

I pray my voice will find its strength.
I feel it growing with every visit of you.
These words are a mere reflection of what swayed me to sleep last night
and shook me awake this morning.
I wondered why they spoke so strong in my resting mind
and so softly do they speak from my stifled pen.
Pray mother pray!
It is my destiny.
Pray that the resting masters sleeping in my spirit
come to know and begin to show the way for my waking pen.