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Poems by Fred Street
Passing on a nearby street—
Approaching sundown, an array of dogwood trees stood bright pink & white leaves glowed in sunlight
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Music everywhere—listen!
Softness of breeze on my left cheek gave an aroma of this moment that I delighted in.
Fred Street
WRITING
Writing gives me the opportunity to express my point of view, negative or positive.
It allows me to explore images, dialogue.
It allows hope to keep expanding in everyday life.
Creative writing held at ASC on Thursdays has given me encouragement—joy, appreciation of the ability to communicate with my fellow poets published in Situations.
Fred Street
IN RESPONSE TO A FILM BY CHARDELLE IMANI LASSITER: INVISIBLE WOMEN
Internally—Externally Our profiles are distinguished. Psychologically. Mentally. Each and every day.
An approach stated in the film: The ability to learn—share—accept Opportunities presented to us And expanded on.
We possess the hope that imparts in your heart— Your film was informative and caring.
Fred Street
TO HATTIE L. BROWN
Thanks for your question in your poem, “Satan Never Sleeps.”
The question remains with each of us today.
We’re all God’s children. We’re born, we die. That is the reality of our human anatomy.
We cry, feel, hurt, share, and love.
Through time and maturity of each passing day we experience the hope of a better time to come.
The hopes of today give inspiration, encouragement for tomorrow— bright and beautiful and sweet.
Fred Street
THE AWAKENING
Life will be dealt many situations— some understandable, some not. Through maturity, nurturing situations can be achieved.
Love is taught by your mom, dad, or others. Hope is an ingredient that keeps on giving and giving— it’s built from within.
To process any situation, it will take time. Your time—My time.
We’re part of a much greater, universal togetherness bound by love—hope—sincerity— and your belief in yourself.
Fred Street
TODAY, 2007
1996: To interpret what was being said: The test was positive.
My hearing became mute— There was no sound that I could hear at that moment.
At the gate of my eyelids, tears erupted.
Now the journey did begin—again— in the arms of the angels.
Fred Street
