Eric Washington (ETW) Poems

I KNOW MY PEOPLE.
I've seen their suffering and their tears,
Their anger and their fears.
I've seen them work amongst the mills,
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Is it so hard to accept the truth
When history shows the proof;
When reality doesn't miss
Defeating the thickest mist?
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The Mystery Man
He sat outside a window pane,
On the street called Easterlane.
Invisible to some but not to all;
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Winds blow in the Meadowlands
Flowers bloom as bright,
The sun warms the land;
Oh, that angelic light.
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What happens to a broken heart
that expose itself to thee?
Is it locked within a cage?
Or freed by a future thee?
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What is a rose but a rose?
What is life but life?
All that seemed or told,
Is sometimes not precise.
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Walking down a street alone;
You feel a coldness in your bones.

Leaves falling to the ground;
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I treat people with respect,
Went to college as was planned;
For I was always brought up
To be a strong black man.
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Every year in November people gather food and timber, to celebrate a family day, a thanksgiving holiday. Eating dressing, cakes and pies; laughing with wide stretched eyes. Everyone is having fun; Except the Turkey, who must be done.
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Far away in the misty lands,
There lived a man admired.
He got away from city life,
It was his soul desire.
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