Anthony

My father’s right-hand man

Decades did not change humility

Civility learned a lesson from him

Who knew not to express own beliefs

Who knew not to profess superiority

Of education, attitude, and future

But sat, year in year out

Devising his own way to count

Money gushed like open dam daily

Wealth he counted, no salivation

Sponge in a tub of water served him

Money dried his fingers crisp

Caused phalanges to hurt

Counting all that money with spittle

Coming by way of tongue-slicked fingers

He counted all that money

Disseminated parts of fractions

Carried all instructions humbly

Invented service before it spread

Distance polarized our relationship

Never got a chance to declare openly

Bottomless gratitude cherished

Thank you for decades of service

Humble, easy going, respectful

I hope respect returned itself to him fully

Thank you so much for tolerating

Nine children and uncountable relatives 

--My dream has loved paper so much for so long because it gave influence to the parched voice of a fashionista poet. Finding this outlet, that voice is now replete with expressive sound.

A Lie Becomes the Truth (Reloaded)

Frances @ 165 pounds

I am woman given to delusions of slimness
I am woman given to whims of fancy
Society expects no lie but with exceptions
Women hold fibbing license with boldface
Too lax, too lazy to work at its achievement
The chant I offered to those demanding
Once upon a time, 130 was mine to sway
Sauntering with a model’s insouciance
Fitted with a model’s draped egoism
Accelerator sped with 168-pound calories
Birth and deaths shoveled fatty tissues
They failed to ask my desire and piled high


The yardstick of validity


In retrospect, 130 was a skeleton walking
 I wanted meat on bone for man to hold
I wanted holding place for man to pull
No fear of breaking me in half, should he
Declared my weight 150 with bold face
 Repeating many times, I bought belief
Chancing a glancing in that crystal ball
Showed clearly the achievement of a lie
No stopping now when lie becomes truth
Next stop, my weight 145, now a lie
Will become the truth one day soon  



Achieving a Lie

That fat lie a slim truth did become

The yardstick of validity, a dress dotted
Hung in my closet, a secret resolve
How did such a magic come about?
I’m grateful to corn and wheat intolerance
Those two bullies achieved my goal
Now, the lie once told with a boldface
Has become the truth at sassy 145
Therefore, your honor, I rest my case  


At 145

--My dream has loved paper so much for so long because it gave influence to the parched voice of a fashionista poet. Finding this outlet, that voice is now replete with expressive sound.

Slow-Motion Leaf

This poem is featured in Geogia's Best Emerging Poets
----------

Two sided mirror is the window of contentment

To see, to admire, both views of misconduct

Unlike the police department’s biased vision

Thin veiled inquisition drapery hangs

Giving uninterrupted view of curiosity

Of paraders on one side preening

Seen, but can not see  

Standing captivated and bereft

Watching it through window of contentment

Two sided mirror of voyeurism

I see it; it sees me without pause

Gliding slowly, broad view fanning

The noon sun puts it through tanning

Natural x-ray machine thins veins

Through paper smeared margarine drapery

Through blinds purchased with irony

Projected clearly for admiration

Every vein, every sharp edge

Splayed through private slide

Splayed through private screen

This leaf, autumn’s paint brush

Meta-morphed into seven shades

One leaf, seven shades, nature painted

Most prominent of the four, autumn

Paints earth tones and greens

Gliding, unhurried, leisurely down

As if lowered by a spider’s web

As if lowered by a puppeteer’s deception

Slowly it spiraled, pirouetted, paused

Downward gracefully, a swan’s pose

It glided, pausing for my breath to catch

Leaving me changed, pensive

--My dream has loved paper so much for so long because it gave influence to the parched voice of a fashionista poet. Finding this outlet, that voice is now replete with expressive sound.

First Book to Be Published Next Month!

Posted on August 7, 2012 by literarynomad11 (Frances Ohanenye)

 

I am working with BookBaby to release my first book on a long list of my writing adventures. This one, The Waters Family Chronicle, combines a very unique approach to teaching bodies of water with narrating a story about naming “children.”

This book brings a fresh and fun look to storytelling with clues and hints that get the brain popping. Students and all teachers of social studies, get your computer and brain ready to outdo Sherlock Holmes.

The Waters Family Chronicle is going on sale on Amazon early next month (September). Reserve your copy today!

Please visit my Facebook Author Page; click "like.": https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Frances-Ohanenye/348583808554457

--My dream has loved paper so much for so long because it gave influence to the parched voice of a fashionista poet. Finding this outlet, that voice is now replete with expressive sound.