To Love It’s easy to love people who think like me It’s easy to love people who are oppressed Who are hated by others because of their skin Who are hated by others because of who they love Who are hated because they are poor Because I want them to know that they are loved Regardless of what their mother said about them Or what their racist neighbors did to them Or corporate America and it’s bullshit They. Are. Loved. It’s easy for me to love people who don’t hate the people I love. I do it because that’s what my God tells me to do But He also tells me to love those who hate me He tells me that they will know us by our Love To love those who hate my black friends To love those who hate my gay brother To show them what real love truly is. It’s so much harder to love them Then again... If it was easy... the whole world would already know love And I wouldn’t have to remind them to do it -b.e.
Don’t mind me…
Just a little note to say
That one of my poems
Was published today ❤️
This is the first time one of my poems has ever been published and I’m a little overwhelmed. It’s not much but it’s a start. It’s just affirmation that I’m headed in the right direction ❤️
Check it out and many more amazing authors and poets at harnessmagazine.com!
a good red
always appreciate a good red
whether lipstick or wine
a red lip give you power
the gift of confidence wrapped
in a Cupid’s bow
red wine can just sit in a glass
like a boss
the holder of which also then becomes a boss
you can’t erase a good red
it stays behind
glued to the story
a mark of a memory
a moment captured in time
a kiss on a napkin
a collar
a fight on a dress
or the floor
appreciate a good red
for she will never be forgotten
-b.e.
The House My Mother Grew Up In
I remember the smell I don’t know if it was perfume Or just antique furniture But it was dust and love mixed into one I remember the light streaming through the kitchen windows Early morning breakfasts At the nook table in the corner next to the washer. My grandfathers garden right outside the back door. Red painted fencing, large pepper plants The stairs to the massive basement around the kitchen corner This was the house my mother grew up in. A large wood burning stove right in the middle of the living room Wood paneling on the walls That classic White Jesus painting on the hallway wall A huge bay window with lace curtains in the living room I remember a pink carpet but I can’t say for sure. My sister and I slept on the floor in the family room. On blankets and sleeping bags A large glass display shelf With equal amounts of porcelain babies And modern model race cars There was brick somewhere A large front yard Maybe a garage but it’s been too long. This was the house my mother grew up in. Faint memories are all I have left. -b.e.
Query
Do you ever think of me? Like I think of you? It happens randomly And then all at once One minute there’s nothing And then a flash A memory A query Are you ok? Are you happy? What are you doing right now? It’s not longing Or love Just curiosity You took up so much of my life You were so important For such a long time Until you weren’t. And once in a while I just wonder What you’re doing now -b.e.
Orbit
One minute he was just a friend The next he was something more One glance One smile One word He’d swept me off my feet and he didn’t even know it. All at once I was just a moon in his orbit -b.e.
Keep Writing
You have to write something bad To come up with something good I heard that on a podcast once I really hope it’s true Until then I guess I’ll just keep writing And hope one day Something worth writing about falls out -b.e.
Snow
Soft lights reflect off the curve of an eye
A gentle snow flake rests on a lash
The steam of a breath
Floating on the wind
The tip of a tiny child’s nose
Lifted towards the sky
The simple innocence of a child watching snow
It’s enough to make you cry
They don’t know the world the way we do
In that moment all they know is joy
All they see is snow
Touch
Touch Callused skin Soft pads of fingertips Tracing the curve of a hand Following lines of time The gentlest whisper Charged with a thousand lightning bolts -b.e.
A gift
We walked down the hallway around students and lockers I have a gift for you they said “it’s for Christmas but it’s early” I had a feeling, sinking in my gut what was once a normal moment was now about to change They handed me a bracelet simple, plain, and black a silver heart locket affixed to the back still rushing through the hallway almost late for class I brushed my fingers over the beads as they sat cold in my hands the locket had their mother’s name etched with a tiny heart I knew in that very moment what this gift was meant to be I can’t accept this its lovely but I can’t I know it means so much to you but it’s not the same to me They ripped the bracelet from my hand quickened their step and ran I called their name my heart sank I lost a friend that day with just a simple gift -b.e.
b.e. poetry: A place for my words 