Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site

Prelude to Grapedrink.

Poetry By: Future Compost Heap
Poetry



About an African-American fellow, his state of being and his everlasting quest to capture the painstakingly elusive Grape-drink


Submitted:Oct 16, 2009    Reads: 189    Comments: 21    Likes: 13   


I have this Grill stuck in my heart

I love you Fried Chicken,

You have to go away

But you're so finger licking good, I want you to stay

I search for my Grapedrink, through dirt, dust and mold

Without my Fried Chicken, I am feeling so old

My negro heart is beating, as I dance on this floor, the Grapedrink eludes me

Oh how I wish it pour, from the skies to my door, but that only happens, in old negro lore

Unless I can find my Grapedrink, my Fried Chicken and all;

I should never again be happy, this man whose named Jamal





13

| Email this story Email this Poetry | Add to reading list



Reviews

About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.