by Willow

Diamonds sprinkled on black velvet,
As far as the eyes can see,
A temptress,
Like a moth to flame,
Beautiful Lady,
A Bitch!

Copyright 1996 © Willow. All Rights Reserved.
Photo by Willow
As Published by
The National Library of Poetry
Seasons to Come, Anthology
Lib. Of Congress ISBN 1-56167261

by Willow

The chill was in the air on these gray, damp, cloudy streets.
A Tall husky figure, emerged slowly from a building, tired.
An old man, who came to this country for a better life,
A life he built with his hands and toil; now a night janitor.
The young ones in the car, came here for the easy life.
They were told this country would take care of their people.
Indifferent and idle, they roamed the streets for excitement.
On this dark and desolated street, they will all meet.
The old man, crossing the street, was just missed by the car.
The old man cursed them in his language, as he shook his fist.
The car rocked to each side as it sped away; the old man smiled.
Only it returned, with more cars, slithering around the corner,
Searching for their prey; he shivered; the air felt electric.
They scurried from their cars encircling him with baseball bats.
From the dim streetlight, he could see their eyes glowing,
Their feral teeth bared, snarling, they moved in for the kill.
To the left, the right, the blows came; the old man fought back.
Police sirens, could be heard screaming in the distance...
The smell of spring, was in the air, on this star lit night.
A limping figure emerged, cautiously from a building, tired.

Copyright 1996 © Willow. All Rights Reserved.
The National Library of Poetry
Best Poems of 1996, early spring 1996
Library of Congress ISBN 1-56167-284-4

by Willow

Sassy, young girls, in tight dresses with big asses,
Struttin' their stuff in the hot summer breeze,
Teenagers, proud, naive lambs, ripened and voluptous!
Bodies moving in a slow sensual rhythm as they walk the gauntlet.

Conquests and babies are the gauge for their manhood,
The Lover Boys, lust, in tee shirts, bums; leaning on cars,
With their lethal weapons nestled gently between their legs,
Its a weapon that has destroyed lives, as effectively as a gun.

They're watching the fine young thangs; their prey passing by.
"Hey baby, you sho', is, lookin' good!" one Lover yells out.
"Come over heeer-a, I gots some luv, fo' ya," he drawls,
Then he grabs his bulging crotch to show her, his desires.

He promises hot nights of sexual delights (all for a moment).
Will she be tempted, on this day . . . no, not this time.
She smiles, although a little frighten; and without a pause,
She yells back," Y'all knows y'all don't mean me no good!"

Then, she turns her head away, in a toss, of disdain,
All the while walking a little faster to her destination.
She knows the outcome, fatherless babies, and poverty.
She didn't listen today, but there will always be a tomorrow.

Copyright 1996 © Willow. All Rights Reserved.
The National Library of Poetry
Of Sunshine and Daydreams, Autumn of 1996
Library of Congress ISBN 1-57553-153-4

by Willow

I wanna be loved, I wanna feel love!
I wanna belong to some-bod-y,
I wanna hear the sound of my name on his lips,
I wanna know how it feels to buy his things,
I wanna, breathe in his musky scent.
Cherish me, I wanna suck it through a straw,
I want his man flavor to drift up into my nostrils
and wrap its self around my brains,
I wanna touch those pillow lips to mine,
And lose myself in all its glory,
I wanna wrap my legs around his waist,
And have him impale me baby on his shaft of life.
I wanna pull him deep inside me,
And pump him until I suck him dry,
I want the two of us to rock ourselves up to heaven,
And hitch a ride on that orgasmic rollercoaster,
So we can float endlessly in that timeless place,
I want him to work it baby, and sweat,
I wanna lick him, eat him, and touch him,
I want to belong to somebody I want a man.

Copyright 1996 © Willow. All Rights Reserved.
The National Library of Poetry
The Best Poems of 1998, Spring 1998
Library Congress ISBN 1-57553-688-9

by Willow

When does enough, get to be enough?
What is the limit, of what you can't take it anymore?
How many times can you roll with the punches?
The problems keep coming left and right,
They never cease; never giving you a break.
One, right, after, another, no time to recuperate,
No solution or hope; no light, at the other end.
The walls are closing in on me, and I'm choking.
I feel hands snatching little pieces of my flesh.
And, I can't, take the pain anymore.
I feel the arms now, wrapping themselves around my legs,
Pulling me thru the quagmire, and pushing me into the abyss.
I'm tired, so very tired, and I can't fight it anymore.
My Lover has come a courtin' and his name is Depression.
I'm going down, oh yeah, I'm going down,
To visit my three friends, Depression, and Despair,
And that temptress who dances tauntingly before me,
Gowned in white, beckoning me, to the safety of her bosom,
She is my Lorelei, but her name is . . . Suicide.
I'm going down, oh yeah, I'm going down.

Copyright 1996 © Willow. All Rights Reserved.
The National Library Of Poetry
Forever and a Day, Winter of 1996
Library of Congress ISBN 1-57553-070-8

by Willow

I have a friend the best of his kind,
He rode up to me one cloudy day on a white horse,
And swept me under his arm as his protégé,
He was fearless and gallant.
He took me by the hand on my dark days,
And pulled me from the bottomless abyss,
It was through his eyes that he showed me the light,
And snatched me from the greedy jaws of the sharks,
He guided me safely through the maze,
Where I was to be ambushed by my enemies,
It was on his broad shoulders that I cried,
His deep resounding laughter, that was my catharsis,
He was my confident, who listened without judging,
I thought we'd be together, forever,
But I fear this is not to be, because,
We have reached a fork in the path of life,
A path that will take us in different directions.
An opposite road maybe his destiny to follow his dreams.
If so, I will be more than sad if I lose me.
I will feel so empty, as if I had a hole deep inside me,
I will grieve his departure as if he had died.
Because he is my big sister, my brother,

He is my best friend.

Copyright 1996 © Willow. All Rights Reserved.

by Willow

She had just said "hello," he'd answered with "good-bye."
She now knew, that what she'd long dreaded was now reality,
By the look on his face, she knew that this was his last day.
And just like thousands of parting lovers before them,
It was time to say farewell.
She wanted to touch him; he desired to hold her, one last time.
Into their arms they went, their warm bodies joined as one.
He pressed his rough face, gently against her soft cheek,
And in those few seconds that they held each other,
From the dark recesses of their minds, they reviewed,
All the scenes that were from, their sweet memories.

It was like their lives were depicted on upright slides,
That slowly fell, in a endless winding row, like dominoes,
From what was seen and heard, each tender moment was relived.
Each scene made them realize how dear they were to each other,
She asked softly against his ear, "You're leaving me?"
His answer was, to hold her like he never wanted to let go.
She closed her eyes tighter to hold back the ebb tide of tears,
Woes, breaking thru the dam they ran like hot streams of lava,
Each riverlet etching into her cheeks in their last embrace.

Copyright 1996 © Willow. All Rights Reserved.
The National Library of Poetry
Best Poems of the 90's, Fall of 1996
Library of Congress ISBN 1-57553-132-1