Gedicht
Lionel Fogarty
Black Woman
Black Woman
Black Woman
She’s native, naked, she’s native and nakedShe takes me down and wipes my body
She holds me in her arms and warms my heart
She pushes into my mouth with the smell from future voices
She multitudes my soul into many magnificent beliefs
She never is betrayal to love
Ain’t no mountain fireplace gonna encounter her burnt scar
Ain’t tiptoe intense kiss gonna undress her lips
She has powers in dignity and her nights endure my feelings
with the moon or stars
She turned my life’s passions too beautifully for sleeping
whispering
Glory travels worthy in her lyric spirit
I am fragile in mine but she comes in galaxy memorised
Some outrageous reality remains in this society, but she comes
down plundering moves by radio hateness
She has been disappearing
She has been reappearing
She is the spice of earth and is the psalm’s tangled up in flesh matters
my embracements are mine
Branches are of a new thing now called gulls of agony
But she takes this over bridges
But she has private hurts and loves
Now my body speaking for everything she gave is spoken
But my robbed yearning became strangehood
But I praise her touch happenings in her stages.
She is my friend I sort of love her
But sick as me I believe in her returns.
© 1993, Lionel Fogarty
From: New and Selected Poems Munaldjali, Mutuerjaraera
Publisher: Hyland House Publishing, Melbourne
From: New and Selected Poems Munaldjali, Mutuerjaraera
Publisher: Hyland House Publishing, Melbourne
Gedichten
Gedichten van Lionel Fogarty
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Black Woman
She’s native, naked, she’s native and nakedShe takes me down and wipes my body
She holds me in her arms and warms my heart
She pushes into my mouth with the smell from future voices
She multitudes my soul into many magnificent beliefs
She never is betrayal to love
Ain’t no mountain fireplace gonna encounter her burnt scar
Ain’t tiptoe intense kiss gonna undress her lips
She has powers in dignity and her nights endure my feelings
with the moon or stars
She turned my life’s passions too beautifully for sleeping
whispering
Glory travels worthy in her lyric spirit
I am fragile in mine but she comes in galaxy memorised
Some outrageous reality remains in this society, but she comes
down plundering moves by radio hateness
She has been disappearing
She has been reappearing
She is the spice of earth and is the psalm’s tangled up in flesh matters
my embracements are mine
Branches are of a new thing now called gulls of agony
But she takes this over bridges
But she has private hurts and loves
Now my body speaking for everything she gave is spoken
But my robbed yearning became strangehood
But I praise her touch happenings in her stages.
She is my friend I sort of love her
But sick as me I believe in her returns.
From: New and Selected Poems Munaldjali, Mutuerjaraera
Black Woman
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