Eyes as a symbol of hope. A poem.
— by Lester L. Polk

Piercing blue eyes that penetrate my soul
I don’t know why but they speak to me
Those blue eyes tell of a future that I’ve seen with my spirit
One where I am free to compliment a woman on her beautiful eyes
without fear of reprisal.
Yes, they speak — loudly
They tell me to believe
They say do not cast away your hope in God for it has great reward
They say do not despair, young man. One day, you will have someone
with eyes just as beautiful as these, looking at you with the same longing that you feel
Eyes like hers used to mock, disdain and even worse pity,
but now there’s a real exhilaration when they are seen
No despair there, just a true expression of hope
I wonder if she knows how her eyes speak
But I think I’ll leave her out of it
This is between her eyes and me

Poet’s Note
This was written during a lockdown, when loneliness was my constant companion. That day, I was led to read the 128th Psalm, which spoke about the surety of a loving family for those who trust and rely on God’s goodness. After that, it made no sense to be worried about the absence of female company. A legacy of love is worth the wait.

A love poem.

— by Lester L. Polk

Like the raindrops
are my thoughts
of you
continual, consistent, heavy
surrounding me
enveloping me
desire for you
penetrates my soul
like wetness soaking my clothes
clinging to my body
as a second skin
weighted sticking
loving it

A love poem.

— by Lester L. Polk

The sun breaks through the lattice

and I awake to nirvana
today like every other
I eagerly await the gift of all gifts
the sight of your lovely face
the place we call home
warmed by the beauty of your essence
eyes red
unfettered magnificence
viewed in wrinkled pajamas

A collection of short poems about life lessons learned.

— by Lester L. Polk



Love is

Love is a unicorn

because its beauty is mythical

all have heard of it, few have seen it

those who have spend everything

trying to describe it

Love is the 26th mile

in the marathon

the hardest to reach

but truly satisfying when attained

Love is a dagger

that strikes through the hearts of many

yet will be the tool to defend and protect

Love is the truth

whether words of romantic woo

or life altering reality

Love is cupping a breast

while caressing a mastectomy scar

healing the hurt within.




Pure, precious, blank black canvas

No knowledge of pain, wrong unseen

Pristine perfection

Infection, disdain, introduction to pain

Violations seen but ignored

Marred visage

Fault offered

accepted, rejected, dejected

purpose lost

chains abound

all around the world

ceaseless search

never finding




what you are

what you want to be

what you have

what you desire

what you think

what really is

what your mind says

what the mirror shows

turmoil, struggle

the battles rages


the mirror shows

what your mind says

you think

what really is

all you desire is

what you have

what you want to be

is really who you




God for a Moment

Every time we make a decision

we are God for a moment,

the master and ruler of our world.

Every time we make a decision

we give place to worship or hate

our personal deity in an autonomous place.

Every time we make a decision

we rule the universe

that is in our own skin.

At least in our lives

we know what is reverence

or sin.

Find me in



seventh heaven

where I sit upon

my everlasting


at least for the




Good Morning

It’s morning

the darkness has passed

free from unspeakable pain



and danger.

This is the new normal

where we are

at peace.

The anger of midnight

has evaporated

in the warmth of

a renewed trust

Like a fresh dew,

safety is on the

edges of our lives

slowly, steadily,

encroaching on our hearts.




I am the love that you have desired over the ages

I am the safety that you lost in your pain

I am the prosperity that eluded you in poverty

I am the hope down the drain in the face of disappointment

I am the erotic thought in the middle of the day

I am the greed that kills in the third world and laughs in the first

I am peace that escapes as tomahawk’s rain

I am the health that mocks you from your death bed

I am everything and nothing.



The Itch

Why is 

that which you want

is rarely what you need?

Why is

that which you cannot live without

you have lived without

for years?

Prison strips people’s identity down to a dehumanizing series of digits. A prisoner takes exception. A poem By Lester L. Polk.

I may be known as a number


An unknown entity

to those charged with cataloguing and warehousing me

but actually I am a creative, sentient being.

To some, I am the seventy-second thousand, eight hundredth person to fall

into the trench of the hotel series of lost causes.


But I am a source of volcanic vision, wanted and unwanted.

I am the strength of a geyser, the force of a hurricane.

I am the truth that will not die

no matter how many attempts are made on its life.

I am freedom.