Poet -- Bonita Lee Penn

Issue #2                        Click here to read more of her work - Issue #1

 

 
You
 
his
image,
like the night,
came to me,
dark and comforting.
 
 
 
 
In Remembrance of All Before
 
whirling snow flakes lay as your soft blanket, while
ice sickles reflect the sun rays, guiding us through narrow rows of
neatly placed headstones covered with flowers and wreaths, left by loved ones,
leading us towards your chosen place, an
earthly place, only, to rest, your bones.
rapidly my frozen tears melt as the remembrance of your love warms my heart.
 
 
 
 
 
 

. . . and he smiles
 
and thinks of her. . .
damn, i love the fuck out of her.
 
each time, i see her,
each time i think, about her,
my dick gets hard
my heart races
my lips want get close to hers
 
she has me smiling,
just to be smiling.
cause i m thinking, about her.
 
and when i'm down
i'm feeling her positive vibe
telling me the tales of great warriors,
she says, i remind her of them
damn, she's beautiful and smart.
 
when i hurt
she gives me the pleasure of laying in the softness of her hugs
as she cools my angry soul with breezes of her wisdom
explaining i don t have to please everyone, just myself and God
and she recounts the good she sees in me,
the faith she has in me for a future so high, I'll never reach the top.
 
i'm learning to understand her strong faith in God
i know He is good and kind,
because, she says, He lives within her.
And, she is so beautiful and kind.
 
when i'm hungry
i watch her, smiling standing over a hot stove
fixing our dinner, food beyond the typical fried chicken, spaghetti, steak and potatoes,
at times she is brand new to me.
 
when i'm through with the streets
i go home and we share stories
 
she even reads her poetry, to me, before we go to bed
 
when the only colors i use to see
were the blacks and the whites
now, when i look in her brown eyes
she exposes me to the reds, to the blues, to the greens, to the oranges, to the yellows,
to the purples of the world.
 
i never realized my cup was half filled,
until she poured herself into me
now we're both overflowing.
 
damn, i love her.
and it goes on and on,
and on and on.
 
. . . and he smiles
© April 2006 by bonita lee penn
 
 
 

Sweetest Kiss

 

 

i - been watching - you

imaging how it would be

'your kiss'.

if even for a quick - long - lasting - moment

how would it feel to have you

close enough

to catch the fire

simmering behind my eyes.

to know

my lust.

to finally, be aware

i  long to taste your

kiss.
 
i use
each free second, minute, midnight hour

to day dream

of you.

bending down to bestow upon lips

and engage tongues

with the most sweetest

succulent

deepest

one of those, you didn't even know you had

kiss.
 

It all ends at the same precise - breathless - moment

At the first taste - of your - wetness 

of the

one sweet

kiss.
 

this poem is to inform you

i've grown greedy

in my dreams,

i now yearn, for your more intimate, connections -

of your thrusts.

tell me

would they be

as deep, as

your

kiss.

© october 2006 bonita lee penn

 

 

 

 


Rites of Passage

by bonita lee penn

he
orbits around me
he's the moon, to my earth.

i'm the darkness
he's, the explosion of a million stars                     
showering,
in offering to me.

spreading
my arms,
i gather the lights of his offering
on each
finger
tip.

i'm, now,  the light, and the darkness.

circling me,
chanting,
he's
whispering, in my right ear,
pleading me - to show him the way.

i touch,
an uninhibited place,

he follows,

and discovers
the flower,
planted,  for him,
blooming from
the back of my neck,
and
he savors the sweet smell.

circling me,
once more,
his chanting continues
whispering, in my left ear
pleading of his own free will
- he'll follow.

my finger tip emitting
light,
directing, him.

his palm connecting
with the small of my back,
and i breathe,
allowing him,
to take, possession of me.

his whispers float
in,
between,
my,
lips,
chanting, for me to
show him the way
and
he'll follow.

i touch (my heart)
pressing his
ear to my breast,
hearing the hurt.

he follows,
placing,
my nipple, in his mouth
extracting my pain.

and, i breathe,
allowing him
to take, possession of me.

he
orbits around me
he's the moon, to my mother earth.

chanting,
he'll do all he can do
to help my garden grow.

i touch
and
he follows.

showering, warm, thick, bursts
of his liquid life
into my garden,

and,
i breathe,
allowing him, to take possession of me,
and
my flowers bloom,
inbetween my,
thighs.

i'm the darkness
he's, the explosion of a million stars
showering,
in offering to me.

i breathe
allowing him, to take possession of me,
leading me into the light.


 


 

Options


options
of staying or
leaving love behind.
at one time it didn't matter,
i was sharing you with,
your other love,
i thought.

but now,
i find myself
drowning in green waters
of envy, jealously; and waves
of tears that once blinded
my option to,
leave you.

 

 


Untitled Eintou #2

 

foot steps
door unlocking
it s rush hour, no more.
put away the suit, and jacket
come baby, sit with me
listen to my
heart beat.
 
flat palms,
working your back,
placing you in a trance.
arousing your body to the
sound of love manifested through
kindling of
fingers.
 

 

 


 Mike s Song

 

 

first time i saw you, it was a warm and sunny day
all i knew is that i wanted you
i didn't know you would look at me
then you smiled at me so warm and sweet
i could hardly speak
you made feel like a itty bitty girl
 

erika badu, our background music

that first day the sun warmed the city streets

after i trekked through a cold and lonely winter .
 

i looked over,

tried not to notice you

but there you were  

smiling at me.
 

i fooled myself into thinking

i could fake

not noticing you

you noticing kept

watching watching
 

i couldn t walk fast enough

to escape your eyes,

i tripped right into

your smile
 
how could i forget
the memories
of lust
so intense,
my hair caught fire,
and our bodies burnt hot
like candle wax
melting into each to the other
fusing as one strong connection
the memories of your constant
innocent smiles
 
still has a way of lifting and melting inside of me
twirling my soul back to that summer and you.
 
to the time i looked over
and there you were
smiling
back at me

(c) unpublished works bonita lee 1997  

   

Untitled Eintou #2   

 

  Untitled Eintou #2      

 

Growing Up

 

you lock yourself up
away from what is going on
for reason you re past the stage of
being played as a game.
 
you don't want to be used
you tire of being judged because you re not
light enough, dark enough,
hair not long enough,
nappy enough, straight enough
because you don't give it up,
as easy as you did
before you grew up
 
or you don't grind when you dance
like you use to
before you grew up
 
so you locked yourself up
knowing they still expect you to
perform as you once did
before you grew up
 
others find it hard to accept the
new you
they fail to realize
you have
evolved
into a
woman.
 

you walk with a new

confidence

they find sexy

but

they can't grasp
this the new you
so they don't
ask you to dance
anymore.
 
like they did
before you grew up.
 
you now drink to chill
not to fall into any man s predatory awaiting arms
so they stop
buying you drinks.
 
if they ask
for your number
and you say
no
in turn you
ask for theirs
they stumble with excuses
cause the baby mom, who has no place to stay
is living with them cause they ain t gonna let their child live on the street or in the projects
or the chick, they really ain t living with be trippin
 
so they pass you
to smile at a more
accommodating female
giving her goodies away
for free.
 ©September 2005 unpublished works bonita lee

 

 


When Will I Stop?

 
when will
i stop moaning
his name in the middle
of the nite, while drowning in my
own feverish, moist cum.
when, will i stop
moaing?

 

 


Racism's Zip Code 15219

sitting here
trying to write a love poem,
meanwhile my brothas are
being stopped cross town
for traffic violations, 
 and justifiably killed,
pepper sprayed
or detained.
 
it's always open season on black men.
no need for a rope
when a badge will do.

 

 

 

 


Rain Storm

 

standing

in the middle

of a rain storm, hailing

haphazardly on exposed flesh.

i feel the sting of your

lash, loving all

of me.

bonita lee © may 2005

 

 


 

Moments in Love

 

moments in love
 the nights you allow me to release everything that had worn old in me
 i woke up anew, beside you
moments when our bodies clashed in heated explosions
 the after waves within you
 poured into me
 through me with lust from the top of my head
 as your trail blazed through my heart, to the tips of my painted red toes
  
the moments love multiplied
 when i woke in the middle of scattered nights
 with burnt desire to finger feed you the sweet brown fruits of my hard nipples
 moments followed me every where
 as I was forced to sit crossed legged in meetings
 my mind focused on thoughts, of,
         dipping your head in the healing river that flows between my thighs
i loved you
 as your tongue reached in and resuscitated my soul from loneliness
 i live
 i breathe
 you.

 


 

I.

Frosting
 
 
my fingers
frosted with oil
 draws paths through his thick dreds
 laying down my scent
allowing him to

find his way home.

 

 

II.

My Journal

 

if my emotions were a journal
 unwatched, unlocked
 on my bed,
 would you
 think
 to pick it
 up and
 find me?

 

 

III.
To Move With You

 

the music of my tongue
wanting to teach your body
 new movements.

 

 

Meet the Author, Bonita Lee
All poems are the property of Bonita Lee
©   All rights reserved.

Bonita Lee born and raised in Sewickley, PA, she now resides in the Manchester section of the Pittsburgh s North Side. In her words, she has been writing since forever.

In August 2005 her first book of poetry Visiting Room was released publsihed through Meeting of Minds Publications.

Her work has been previously published in the Taj Mahal International Journal, Crossing Limits Anthology and various online magazins including the Soul Pitt and The Eintouist.

She was given the opportunity to share her love of writing with local Westinghouse Enlgish students, through a grant awarded to the Crossing Limits organization. Bonita enjoyed sharing her writing experiences with the students and assisted them in expressing themselves with words.

Bonita is currently working on a fiction novel, her goal is to have this completed by the upcoming Spring.

 

 

If you wish to contact Bonita with words of support  or comments please feel free to email her at  bonita_15233@yahoo.com or writers@thesoulpitt.com.
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