YOUR "ONE STOP" PORTAL TO WEDDING, SOCIAL, BUSINESS, PROMOTIONAL & PERSONALIZED PRINTED PRODUCTS
YOUR "ONE STOP" PORTAL TO WEDDING,
SOCIAL, BUSINESS, PROMOTIONAL & PERSONALIZED PRINTED PRODUCTS
ESOTERIC POETRY AND PROSE FROM THE MIND OF NOVALINE
"The Avenue of my Escape is Pen and Paper!" Excerpts from "If Only You Could Read My Mind"
I am constantly being told
that I should share some of my writings with others. . . well, here is is!
Some are completed, but many are works still in progress. Some are mindless
ramblings, as you will see.
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Where Can I Go But To The Lord? Novaline M. Tanksley When life’s burdens are too much to bear... Heavy of heart, Filled with despair... When so-called friends are nowhere to be found... Troubles and woes seem only to compound Where can I go but to the Lord?
If I could paint the world a different color,
Not black or white, nor pink or brown,
No more faces and colors
Self-righteousness, bigotry, hatred,
No vivid outward distinctions...
Relating only mind to mind,
Of course, the sky must forever retain
The earth must cling always,
But facial features, I’d obscure...
Let those who must, if they insist, N. Mckall Tanksley Copyright 2003 A True Child Of God Sometimes I forget how good the Lord is even to those of us who do not believe... and even though we seldom deserve it. More often than not, I forget to praise Him and to thank Him for every waking moment and for every pleasure in life. It is a privilege to view a sunset or birth a child among many other blessings He bestows upon us. I have heard some say, when times are bad, "Why has the Lord forsaken me? Why has he turned His back on me in my time of need?" My reply is simply this; The Lord is always there, watching over us. Our actions must surely make Him sad. He wants the best for us and although He is always there for us, we are sometimes guilty of turning our backs on Him. If you don't believe our Lord is ever present, reach out to Him in earnest, sincere prayer. Confide in Him your needs, your problems, your woes and your deepest regrets, then bask in the Glory of forgiveness and His Presence. Let His Goodness fill your heart and your world, then strive to become rich in faith. In His Word, He assured us, that if we believe that He sent His son, Jesus Christ to this earth to walk among us...to die an agonizing death upon the cross in atonement for our sins, we will always find Him right there beside us, receiving our prayers and being all we ever need to combat our adversaries and to face the myriad of problems living a mortal life. I, for one, am resolving to make certain that my Lord's suffering and dying was not in vain. My daily prayer is "Dear Lord, Thank you for letting me see the sun rise and set another day. Thank you for all you do for me in spite of my unworthiness. Help me, my God, to be your loyal and humble servant for this and every day of my life until I am, at last, in heaven with you . Give me the strength I need to make myself worthy of your supreme sacrifice... help me to be a true child of God. P.S. In reality, the most difficult task ever I cannot hate him, for he is a child, lost in the night.He wanders aimlessly, seeking not love,
Women to him are an abundant orchard, filled with
trees He plucks a delectable sample from time to time. . . And if to his liking, he may bite again and again, possibly devouring it before tossing it aside. . . For want of another. O ne red rose for my sweet ladyto tell her I love her so. Pretty pink pearls picked fresh from the sea, A melodic note coaxed from a robin’s breast, Golden treasures wrought from crimson colored blossoms, may sweeten
my Queen Bee’s sting! Shame on us! I can’t help but wonder how that woman felt . . what was her reaction when they told her that the young Black man found lying face down in the weeds at the edge of one of the Fairmount Park lakes, the one near the golf course, with two bullet holes in his back and a dangling arm that was nearly detached when he was thrown off the bridge from a moving car on the highway was her son, father or husband? While her heart was being ripped from her chest, we watched the evening news and talked about our day on the job, yelled at the kids to finish their homework and ate our delicious dinners. Human suffering and death, even murder, has become so commonplace nowadays, we don't even care that someone's heart is breaking and that life will never be the same for them. Have we evolved into less compassionate and less empathetic creatures than the dogs and cats we share our homes with and refer to as animals? Shame on us! Ode To A Soldier A mother’s child will drift off to sleep under mid-eastern skies tonight Defiantly chanting "God Bless America" as he revs up for the fight Day dreaming of a young wife alone; two babes upon her hips Tears streaming down cherub cheeks dripping off quivering lips Though, the young warrior truly yearns for all the world to be free. . . He prays to see just one more day, for tomorrow he’ll be twenty three Afraid, confused, faint of heart, trying desperately to be a man Afraid, confused, but all the while, certain he has to take a stand He’d like to think of himself as brave— God knows he’s big and strong So he hums a familiar and happy tune and he whistles a gallant song Maybe someday very soon, if tomorrow bares it’s ominous face We’ll abide in peace and harmony; what’s left of the human race Maybe a new day dawning will forgive our greed and pride Or maybe we’ll have sealed our fate when tomorrow is denied Offer your foe a bit of your bread, pray it’s not too late to share Offer him the comforts of your home, and your shoulder if you care Bathe your enemy’s feet with your tears and dry them with your hair Console all your brothers and sisters; we’re in the midst of the lion’s lair. Written by Novaline Tanksley ©March 2003
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Love Song To Myself I think I’ll write a love song to myself A tender one, but not too long And then I’ll compose a happy tune or a woeful sobbing song A song of a free bird, long in flight
who left a lovely nest... To seek refuge in a quieter place... to find himself... and rest I’ll write an ode to my distant lover who left and never came back Another ode... to lamenting virgins my grandmother’s age... and Black Aha! A torrid tale of fire and brimstone, or a ballad of blood and lust. No! I’ll not write that one, not me myself but surely someone must. Maybe I’ll sketch whimsical fairy tales of homes brimming over with joy
Mournful lyrics regretting yesterday’s dreams. . . Listen! An erratic tune is playing now, tormenting my sensitive ear My song, not yours, as you had feared, beckoning lost lovers near!
N. McKall Tanksley copyright 1998 Not My Own! We did not chance to meet, Only for a moment, he gyrated deep inside my soul, tickling and tantalizing my dormant senses. . . And on the wings of my forgotten carnality, I soared! But before I could alight, Not my own! The Man I Love Done Gone WHY?
Tanksley ©2008 All Rights Reserved Musings from the mind of Novaline People be just hurting people! People be just taking power! People just don't seem to ----------------------- I am a skinny girl deep inside... I am a woman full of pride... I am beautiful inside and out... I am a beautiful Black Woman! Pearls and Lace Every little old lady Don't even think her wits ain't swift, I used to think that mere time alone, mellowed our hearts and souls. . . I've come to know, that from day one, what we're made of just grows old. Our bones become brittle, our teeth fall out,
our escapades are few to none. A most definite way to discern her heart, wait till she relaxes her face. Evil has a way of etching it's marks, although framed with pearls and lace.
Novaline Tanksley ©2005
There ain't none of'em what seem to kere no mo, seem lak. Ah sits here in dis here cheer all day long til Ah dozes off. Ah usta bounce back like a blade o grass somebody done stepped on, but Ah cain't no mo. But sometime, when Ah sleeps, Ah dreams Ah still kin. Mah ole laigs, whut usta be so prutty, ain't got no kinda shape no mo. Seem lak Ah jist got started and fore you knowed anythang, it had all flew right on bah me. Nah, heah Ah sets, thanking bout all Ah meant to do, but didn't. . . now Ah won't cause Ah cain't no mo. Ah reckon Ah'll gone out on the poch and watch the chir'en play and the clouds roll bah, fo Ah cain't eben do dat no mo. Novaline Tanksley copyright 1985
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THE COLOR OF MY CHRIST They tell me that Christ is not the man I know after loving Him all my life When I’m in trouble, He is there with me through all the grief and strife They tell me He is Black, and not the pale color depicted for Oh so long His color is not important to me. . . My Savior taught me right from wrong Believing in Jesus, brings me comfort and joy, what difference does it make As long as His Word remains in my heart, my God I will never forsake So when people insist, Jesus is Black, not White, tell them what I just told you Jesus is my Savior and Lord of my life, I wouldn't care if He was orange or blue N. McKall Tanksley copyright 2005
Seven Come Eleven My Savior, God holds the winning hand in any game I play.
The Road To Peace When the light of one’s day When the flight of one’s feet leads to passage-less roads, The fiber of one’s being disbands. When your precious Savior, whom you love and adore, Seems to turn away from your side... Fall on bended knees in worshipful prayer, and peace will replace your cries. Worship him daily, don’t ever ceasesoon humility will replace your pride Glorify His name in deed and prayerand with you peace will soon abide When you call upon His name, Our Lord God hears your plea. When your heart and soul are wounded, prayer will surely heal thee. In God’s Word, lies the road to peace. Travel it; life’s treasures cannot but increase ©10/2000 All Rights Reserved "I love you" does little justice to the feelings The Truth Concerning My Unrequited Loves The mere thought of him and my soul screams out with a thousand sighs of longing to be in his presence once more. My aching heart beats with the rhythm of a thousand galloping stallions and I can hardly wait til we are together again. And when he lays with me, the passion that consumes me with each orgasm wracks my body with the fervor of a thousand more. Yet a thousand words of eloquence could not aptly express the love that is forever anchored and tethered to my being. A love rooted so deeply within my heart as to be intricately, securely and eternally harnessed and yoked to his own. The more I see him, the more I want him—thus sings my soul. . . and it can scarce be satisfied til I am with him again. But my desire, clamoring, No, bellowing within the confines of my heart, aches for release—begs and pleads to be satiated. Concerning him, satiation is a meaningless word, for I can never get my fill of my love and his tender love making He meanders wantonly through my mind as though it were his own possession, as though it and my heart were the spoils of war. My breath quickens at the thought of him and nearly snuffs my life at the sight of him, for each breath becomes more labored than the last. When our eyes meet, my will dissipates, rendering every fiber of my being exposed to him through the mirrors of my soul. Vulnerability, favoring an aura of cumulus on a clear and clement day, gently envelopes me while illuminating my fragility Oh God! My how my fragile flesh trembles dare he brush against me in passing. . .so much so I can barely stifle volatile sighs. Dare he extend his hand to grasp mine, each resounding sigh reaches so deep as to audibly resonate my desire for him. I always love too hard and too long, never knowing when to let it go—never quite willing to concede when love has passed me by. Over and over again, I thrust my heart before my wit, allowing it’s fragility to lead the way to yet another unrequited love. No, I seem never quite willing to admit when love is but a dream we once shared, a dream now meaningless and vaguely recollected. When faithfulness becomes a word devoid of significance, and tenderness and caring departs, love’s demise is imminent. As imminent as the death that will claim us all. . . as imminent as the sun’s rising and setting and the moon revolving round the earth. This love will surely die wanting, yet lacking the nourishment of unconditional allegiance and undying commitment to devotion. Love cannot but perish when bestowed, but not requited—when harvested, then gleaned and consumed to near extinction. Such is the truth concerning my unrequited loves. Copyright 2005 Novaline Tanksley This war is killing my very soul, draining my spirits and sapping the strength right out of me. If war is having such a dire effect on me, what in God's name must the soldiers feel who are actually living it ?
“Who qualifies to be called the greatest man who ever lived? How should a man’s greatness be measured? By his military genius? His physical strength? His mental prowess? Or should it be measured by the extent that his words and deeds affect people and by the example he sets for them?” Although they exhibit all the attributes of a great man, I am not referring to men like Lincoln, Gandhi, King or Kennedy. Nor am I referring to President Obama, although his aspirations, achievements, eloquent rhetoric and stately, regal comportment unequivocally presents hope to those of us previously devoid of hope. Expounding upon the quote noted above from the December 2008 edition of Watch Tower; I am referring to our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.. True, I am a Christian, not a Jehovah’s Witness, but
acknowledgment of the goodness and greatness of Jesus Christ seems to
transcend religious denominations. Even religious faiths whose doctrines
do not herald Jesus as the Savior of the world recognize and respect the
wisdom of His teachings. Not too many dare deny that He is a great man;
the epitome of human goodness. Hundreds of years after His death, He
continues to influence many to aspire to be better human beings; to be
more Christ-like. In my humble opinion, Jesus Christ is by far the
greatest man who ever lived.
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Money aka Almighty Dollar We, the American society, categorize ourselves and then force others into those categories predetermined by our stations in life, our fame or notoriety and, first and foremost, our wealth. If one is influential, he catapults himself into the main stream of society by the ability to control the minds of others. Sometimes that influence translates into wealth, but sometimes the mere acquisition of power is enough to satisfy and provide one with a "one-up" over those of us held under that "influential" control. Again, even fame and notoriety does not always translate into financial gain. Everybody knows your name and your accomplishments, but you could still be as poor as a proverbial church mouse. Furthermore, your actual following may be scant and of poor quality. Money, on the other hand is the most powerful influence in the Universe. Power does not always translate into money, but money always translates into power. He who possesses the most money, controls the world's population. The person who says "Money is not everything" or "Money can't buy happiness" probably has no money. If one has an abundance of money, enough to fulfill one's wildest desires, happiness is sure to follow. The happiest time of my life was when money was not always my first consideration. We would like to believe that people who gain their fortunes stepping on the backs of other, will never fare well. I beg to differ. Although they may suffer in the next life, here on earth today, those mean mothers are happy as larks. The almighty dollar may not be in first place on the list, but it's kicking the shit out of whatever the hell is.
I WILL by Novaline Tanksley copyright January 2006 I will leave the night light on my love, but I refuse to ever cry I will not stay awake and wait for you and I will never ask you why I will love you and tho my heart is aching, no tears well in my eye I will leave the light on, ease into bed, for I am dreaming as I lie I will see you in the morning, my sweet, and I will not probe and pry I will tolerate your faithlessness a little longer. . .I will only sigh I will listen to your lies. . .yes, they hurt, no matter how you try I will gaze into your eyes someday, and you will know the end is nigh I will reveal to you the pain in my own, then kiss our love goodbye I will leave you when I can take no more of seeing you fly so high I will feel my heart break once again, but this time I will get by I will love you as I quietly stroll away, and until the day I die If you find that others are constantly ridiculing you or stifling your dreams, it could be that you have simply outgrown your environment. The sun must be on a holiday, the sky is dark, gloomy
and blue Happiness and joy is on vacation, or at least it is
out of my reach Although you are so near to me, you may as well be
across the moon The sun is surely on a holiday, the whole world's
gloomy and blue How can a love that once seemed so real, simply fade
into the night Tears well up in my eyes and stream wantonly down my
face
Novaline Tanksley ©2009 GOOD BLACK MAN A Good Man was found in his home laying dead Shot five times in his heart. . .five times in his head. For a dollar twenty-two and his new Florshiem shoes Now his God-given soulmate's left alone to cry the blues Yet another Black woman's left alone and on her own Only true blessing is, "Thank God, the cher'en is grown" Same old sad story, been told time after time after time Black on Black brutality. . .talking bout the same old crime Black on Black brutality, now what sense does that make? Brother got less than you. . . what the hell is you gon take? Good Man desperately clinging to stale remnants of pride Going to work early every day! Couldn't wait to get inside Done dutifully raised his family, should'a long been retired But that gold watch and his loving wife is all he ever desired Mama recollect he told her once, "All I got left is my pride." Now all she has is memories and heartache dwelling inside "My pride, courage and dignity, Mama, is damn near beat to death." health "Cain't barely even bring to mind my heritage, homeland and wealth Good Man always told his Mama, "If I can breathe again tomorrow, By the love and Grace of God, we gon' make it through this sorrow." Good Man loved and feared the Lord, he learned that from his mother Good man was always boasting, "I'm the Lord's man, cain't be no other" He died with simple dreams unfulfilled, like no good man ever should. . . Wounded ten times, head and heart. . . robbed eternally of manhood The same old sorry-ass tale of woe, been told time after time after time Black on Black brutality. . .I'm talking bout the same old crime Black on Black brutality, now what damn sense does that make? Your brother got less than you got. . . what the hell is you gon take? You can pilfer away from him, bits and pieces of a lifetime of strife Yanking your brother's reins, halts the growth of your own useless life Fruitless crimes of desperation. . . tracing life borders. . .shaming our mothers Yes! Every time you hurt a good Black man, you hurt him, yourself and others Many prevail though the crabs in the bucket incessantly tug at our feet We hold our heads up and, day by day, taste the bitter with the bitter-sweet Novailne Tanksley copyright 2007 All Rights Reserved
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Ode To Little Mama
