Does this mean love is hidden in the Alphabet? Or is it as easy as A to Z?
A Beautiful Country Day
Enjoyed Freely, Gloriously, Hey?
I Jumped Knowing
Love Moved Nearer, Owing
Patient Quintessential Romance
Starlit Trance
Undone,
Victoriously Won
X-ray
Young Zoogeny
‘There’s no mystery to Black History‘ (that’s my little poetic saying). Parents from Jamaica. I have traced my ancestry back to the point when slavery was just abolished (around 1834).
And now nearly 200 years later in the UK my son and daughter are just learning about Black History in school. Wow. Is this ‘Titantic’ ship starting to turn? Who know, hopefully for everyone of colour, wherever we are all are, whatever status we hold, just maybe there are slivers of light appearing amidst the once long and eternally dark tunnel, that we have been treading.
As a would be poet, below is my first take on the many wonderful black inspirational people that have had endure; so people like me, don’t have to as much. More to follow throughout October (and maybe beyond) on other topics.
WHO ARE WE? (starting with the past)
We could be the person on the bus
Your name may be have been Rosa Parkes
Your life made to suffer by the colour of your skin
Yes; they have tried to keep us hidden; into the dark
We were the people without a voice
But Martin Luther made them hear
Look what they did to our dear proud brother
Because he made ‘them’ see what they all feared
We are the ones that move fast
Yes; Jesse Owens showed the dictator this
In the face of complete and utter oppression
It’s something that hasn’t quite fallen over the precipice
We have own Marvel Man from the past
No wheelchair in sight; but his name has an X
A voice for black empowerment
And contrary to many he wasn’t always vexed
A personal mentor; the first black female poet
If you don’t know; Phillis Wheatley was her name
George Washington recognised the talent
For every poet; she should be in your ‘hall of fame’
We need to be like our once enslaved Frederick Douglass
He fought to support those via the abolition of slavery
Putting pen to paper for all to read
His life, his very own Black History
We are the ones that Marshall the Good
Overturn the wrong for the right
Winning against segregation for the learning to occur
We thank him for providing; ‘out of darkness’ we too now have light
We are among the ‘greatest’ ones that had to rumble
The man with fists and feet of flight
Yes Cassius/Muhammed Ali knew how to move
You couldn’t stop him talking either; any day or night
We are the ones that have had to ACT
Mr. Poitier the consummate pro; won an Oscar
Imagine that in an era for his accolade
Showed that black people could also raise ‘the bar’
We should be Harriet Tubman the saviour
Literally saving over 300 enslaved souls
Nursing her community to a better educated life
She was dedicated, selfless and bold
We are the forerunner’s to make things happen
From a seat of power to make the change
Shirley Chisholm started the political race
And now her stepping stones has put us on the front page
We are the entrepreneur’s with a million in the bank
Madam C J Walker knew how to make ‘hair pay’
Making jobs for over 3,000 people at that time
Means we continue to use her genius every single day
We are everyone, everything, just like you
We have beautiful, hair, colour, skin and eyes
We are proud, clever, funny with intelligence
We are here, we are all together, let’s all keep aiming for that prize…
![COMPANY OF FOOLS: Selling For Love & Life, Is A Tricky Business by [J. W. Nelson]](https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/Qevlat8y0Q_js3E4LDUWqZq-_MSKV3oDVznoo_UfSH56Ck7euuy4PosIXigt-h6WdOP4h4nnDOzYOVLyWDbYIBJ7F8wre_TaCN1twWCpi4mirA2byQ7QbeHmvPExC9Ww5r3BMKBWP72zwuf8nxIesg)
Company of Fools: Wild, Irreverent Rom-Com Novel Proves Love & Life are Tricky Business (if Not Impossible!)
J.W. Nelson’s ‘Company of Fools’ zeroes in on the tumultuous life of Justin Whalley, a well-intentioned man who dreams of a wife, children and a steady job. But of course, in true literary fashion, this is too much to ask – as Justin finds himself thrust into the pain of heartache, embarrassment, a love triangle at work and the obligatory suspicious death of a colleague. Join Justin as he attempts to unravel the mess, get his life on track and figure out how on earth anyone can define the world “normal”. It’s hilarious, poignant and tugs at the heartstrings.
Contact:
J W Nelson
Email: jwnelson2k@gmail.com
Twitter : @jwnelson3
TikTok: @thepoet_who_writes2 (mr J W Nelson2)
https://instagram.com/j_w_nelson309?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
United Kingdom – J.W. Nelson has been writing his entire life. This unique muscle of creativity affords him a frank view of the world and people around him, something that oozes off each page of his latest romantic comedy novel.
‘Company of Fools: Selling For Love & Life, Is A Tricky Business’ will either make readers grateful their own lives are so “boring”, or provide a wake-up call for them to get their shizzle back on track. Either way, it’s absolutely thrilling.
Buy Link below…
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08GFS1W18/
Meet Justin Whalley. He’s a straight-laced, not too bad-looking young man who wants three things from life – a wife, children and a good job. Not too much to ask, right?
For Justin it’s nigh-on impossible. His tumultuous journey to attain everyone else’s picture of ‘normal’ involves a heady rollercoaster journey (with his family and close friends strapped in beside him) through a wave of emotions, embarrassment and heartache.
He finds the girl he thinks is ‘The One’. Starts to win her affections and hopes his love story is about to blossom. However, the whole game seems impossible. Changing tack he ventures down a dangerous, wild path which threatens to damage his clean-cut reputation at work.
Justin’s ‘so-called’ sales performance sees him hauled up in front of his manger. He becomes embroiled in a love triangle at work. And then things turn disturbingly dark when a work colleague dies in dubious circumstances.
Are women always this difficult?
Is selling for love and life really such a tricky business?
Or is it Justin’s Whalley ways?
“This novel has everything die-hard fans of romantic comedies and drama crave, while of course giving them something totally new and engrossing,” explains the author. “Justin is perfectly flawed and, in a way, represents the hopes and vulnerability of us all. His struggles are ours, and we’ll find ourselves championing for his eventual success and stability.”
Continuing, “I’ve always had a huge interest in the common man, and our relationship with humanity as a whole. Justin isn’t sensational at all; he could easily be living next door, or might even remind you of yourself. Be prepared to run the gamut of human emotion as Justin attempts to emerge victorious from this thing we call “life”. As they say – nobody comes out alive!”
‘Company of Fools: Selling For Love & Life, Is A Tricky Business’ is available now: https://amazon.co.uk/COMPANY-FOOLS-Selling-Tricky-Business/dp/B08GFS1W18 (Adult comedy/drama)
For more of the author’s work, visit his official website: https://jwnelson309.com/.
About the author, in his own words:
I was born in Birmingham on the same day as my mother.
I have enjoyed writing since I was ten years old. My stories were often read out to the class in English at school. Since then I have continued to write for the enjoyment of it, whether it was lyrics for songs, poems. I attempt to dedicate time to writing full-length manuscripts (hopefully for publication).
I’d welcome the opportunity one day to be able to write screenplays and scripts for movies and/or television.
I have a self-published other books – one of Poetry on Amazon (e-book ‘Poems for the Festive Season’) – https://www.amazon.co.uk/Poems-Festive-Season-J-Nelson-ebook/dp/B00Q3C4BEU
And recently released on Amazon (and within the next couple of weeks in book shops) – Young Adult adventure mystery – Pentagon Pirate Gang; The Secret of the Orchard (for ages 9+)
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Pentagon-Pirate-Gang-Secret-Orchard/dp/1800942540
Additionally I have written three further young children’s poetic picture books that need illustrating /editing before submitting
For the many, who at this time of year may find themselves in this predicament.
We search high we search low
Our problems we own; confess
No need to put on a show
As we are the homeless
How did we get here
Anyone hazard a guess?
We are normal; you have nothing to fear
But we are still homeless
Out on the streets: this is our home
We try to make it our best
Finding the right place; takes time to roam
But there you have it: we’re still homeless
We locate the large shop front
Try to find warmth among the mess
When we roam we also hunt
There’s no other way when you’re homeless
The light draws in anytime soon
Ready to face the cold night-time test
Sometimes when I look at the moon
It tells me ‘your outside and your homeless’
The boxes surround me as I snuggle in
I’m not a bird; but I’m in my own nest
I don’t mind being near the bins
As I accept my status as being homeless
In the morning hope reins supreme
A Samaritan makes an offer: I say yes
On my withered, tired face a smile beams
Just maybe, I’ll no longer be homeless
I dream of this for everyone one I know
I speak from the heart; not in jest
We all need the help: tackled blow by blow
Maybe one day they’ll fewer of us homeless
My debut novel is now available on Amazon in paperback and e-book
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08GHSBJWR/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=&sr=
Let me know what you think if you purchase or download a copy …
Thanks
JW
The Dream Journey by TrainSamuel Peterson, a frantic, stubborn man, leapt forward in huge strides, as he targeted the 1615 from St. Pancras station. The tannoyed voice ricocheted violently across the air, entering Peterson’s ears presumptuously. A female, high pitched tone droned on about the train he was about to catch, so he hoped. His legs moved swiftly now, like a greyhound chasing that ever moving plastic rabbit.
Sweating profusely, panting heavily, his 13 stone out of shape body, lumbered towards the train, sitting noisily on platform 3. Entering the cabin, exhaling for moment to draw breath, Peterson scanned the seats from his bespectled view. Cabin H, first class, yes that’s the one, seat number 13a. Fourteen pair of eyes drilled his. His stature. His demeanour. Decisions about Samuel permeated their minds. A tall, scruffy looking, male with no discernible instant appearance to determine his ancestry, perplexed the other passengers.
A large, untidy beard, covered his facial skin, as did his baseball cap for his head. An expensive pinstriped suit, finished off with white tatty trainers, sounded alarm bells in already prejudiced views. Without completely recoiling, as Peterson shifted towards his seat, eyes averted his as he drew near, as though Peterson was a storm or a hurricane heading in their direction. Then the moment of truth, seat 13a. There with her head down in 13b, sat a lady, about forty years old, auburn hair, glued to her electronic device. She didn’t look up once, as Peterson, fumbled with his bag in the overhead space. He spied her, eying her over, from her head to her feet. Deliberately taking his time to address his bag, compensating for the being intently watched by two men in seat 16a & b. This pragmatic opportunity delivered itself like a gift.
Finally slumping unceremoniously into his seat, Sarah White looked across at Peterson. ‘Hello Sarah. We were wandering when we’d have this meeting. You know what I mean don’t you?’
‘Don’t start Sammie. Drop the bullshit and give it to me straight for once’, Sarah fired back again turning to face the window she sat against.
‘I’d love to give it to you straight, you know that right’, Peterson desperately wanted to smile, yet his professionalism didn’t allow that sort of emotion or frivolity. His voice even, no discernible accent.
Sighing, shaking her head, Sarah White’s beautiful, cosmetically manicured face, bright emotionless eyes, began losing some of colour, vibrancy and sparkle.
‘You lot better understand something’, she started, her voice low, yet determined. ‘If anything happens to me…’ Peterson and Sarah were interrupted by the attendant serving drinks. Peterson ordered two white tea’s with one sugar.
‘You were threatening something’, Peterson continued Sarah’s last repost, as she anxiously stirred her one sugared tea.
‘It doesn’t’ matter anyway’, Sarah reacted sharply, sipping her tepid beverage, ‘ your organisation will find out soon enough’.
‘Umm I see’, Peterson, muttered to himself, something he rarely did. Then he turned to face Sarah, rather seductively, knowing she despised him and his intentions. ‘My secret love, oh how my heart is saddened, as thou’s last journey on a train, leads to your final resting place’. His words faded as the sun does at around 840pm in the summertime. Sarah’s body relaxed, her eyes closing gently, settling into her seat, she drifted into a never ending cycle of sleep.
Peterson sat upright, nonchalant, calm, normal. Chirping could be heard from his right hand jacket pocket, the Mission Impossible theme tune by Lalo Schifrin. Peterson extracted his phone an answered. ‘Is it done’?, was the question. ‘What do you think? Peterson bounced his rhetorical question at his caller. ‘Of course, she’s sleeping’.
That morning, Samuel Peterson, awoke snuggled up in bed with his wife Sarah, who didn’t know about his murderous intentions to divorce her..
(c) Copyright J W Nelson 2017
Yes it’s nearly here now
Special time with family
Togetherness reins and how
As another door is opened by a unique key
Unlock the spirit to always care
Survival through effort allows us to cope
We see you all at yours , here and there
Aiming for the target of fervent hope…
Happy Christmas
J W Nelson
December 2016
Chilling in my room
Waiting for the day
Listening to Christmas sonic booms
As I shade from sun, reminding me of May…
JW Nelson
December 2016
JWNelson309 Blog 