Who is my target audience?

That is an easy question to answer. My romantic/erotic poems and short stories are written for Black and Hispanic women ages 30 and up. Of course, I hope that women of any color, ethnicity or age like my poetry, but it is written specifically for women in the aforementioned demographics.

What prompted me to post this is that some guys have been critical of my poetry as of late but quite frankly, I don’t write the poems for them. Plus, they don’t write poetry; they have no body of work. It is always easy to criticize but not so easy to produce art. I’m publishing my work and putting it here for the world to see and give a thumbs up and thumbs down. It is what it is. But again, my romantic/erotic poems and short stories are written for Black and Hispanic women ages 30 and up.

Some will like my work, and some will not. That is the risk artists are confronted with when they “come out of the closet” as an artist and share their work publicly. I will do my best to keep my audience engaged and entertained. My “poetic audio soap opera,” Back In Love Again, is still in production and will be released in 2014. I’ll keep you posted. Thanks.

What Happened to Us?

Sometimes good things go bad.

You just wonder what led to the party ending.

This poem sheds some light how things can go downhill.

Sometimes a man gets fed up too.

When he does, there ain’t a damn thing you can do about it.

To give you a multimedia experience, television show titles and song titles have been hyperlinked to their respective info pages and audio files on IMDB.com and GrooveShark.com respectively.

_________________________

“What Happened to Us?

© 2012 Tyrone Turner

All rights reserved.

You used to have a twinkle in your eye whenever you said my name.

Now you frown whenever you think of me.

We used to make passionate love.

Over and over and over again.

We used to be all over each other all of the time.

Our love-making sessions were such intense, playful intimate encounters.

Now we have sex once in a while and it is very businesslike – devoid of TLC and passion.

I said we have sex because it isn’t love-making.

We just work to get it off and to finish off the other so we can get back to the separate lives we now live even though we’re under the same roof.

It is so odd to live with a stranger under the same roof.

Yes, I am guilty of violating the trust of our marriage by cheating.

I didn’t simply want something extra on the side.

I’m not that type of man.

I just wanted to have something like we used to have.

I have no excuses to justify my actions and poor choices that have forever changed our relationship, but I need you to understand a few things.

—

Have You Seen Her? My wife – the love of my life?

My heart aches so as if I was stabbed in the chest multiple times with a long, sharp knife.

When I met you, you were full of energy and full of hope.

But even before I did my dirt you started to complain and mope.

I understand the personal issues you were going through were painful, stressful and you literally had bitter pills to swallow.

It killed me to see you morph into a pessimist and in your misery you chose to wallow.

You used to have dreams and we used to stay up late talking about individual and collective goals.

Now when I walk into the house I tread carefully upon the carpet because your moodiness makes it feel like a walk across a bed of hot coals.

I did my best to be your husband, friend and the strong one for our household.

I didn’t give you service with a smile so I wore my best poker face to hold back tears – truth be told.

You used to cook-up delicious meals and keep the house squeaky clean.

Now you order a lot of Chinese take-out and pizza and our home looks thrown-about and is far from pristine.

Dishes pile up in the sink and recycling spills out of jam-packed bags.

Sometimes the floor is littered with receipts and torn price tags.

When you moved in I told you that I had three simple house rules that had to be followed so we can live happily ever after.

They were straight-forward and simple enough to avoid any misunderstandings, bad feelings or an unforeseen disaster.

POD was for Peace-On-Demand because when I cross the threshold of our home I want quiet, calm, and comfort against the hostile outside world.

Just want to kick-back, relax and chill while from the day’s rigors I can unfurl.

FOD was for Food-On-Demand as you were took cook the meals if you were home for the day and I was out and about.

No reason to have fast food, pizza, or Chinese take-out.

AOD was for Ass-On-Demand because that Brown Sugar punani of yours was so finger-licking-good.

I used to put you in a School Daze, because Dean Big Brother Almighty said, “Do it to her good like a Gamma Man should!”

When you get married it is for better or worse.

Times used to get so tough I used to recite “My God! My God! Why has thou forsaken me?” as my favorite verse.

My dreams were deferred like the title of Langston’s poem yet I did what I had to do and never harbored any resentment or anger towards you.

I really was in love with you and I was 100% in your corner because you were My Boo.

What hurts me as to this very day you allege that it was my wish that your illness took you out.

Different Strokes for different folks but what in the hell are you talking about?

My bride and mother of my children.

I have stood by you and never wavered when a good number of people would have cut and run.

I am not blaming you for anything that I did wrong but I want you to understand.

I am not perfect but my mother birthed me to be a man.

I have remained in the kitchen when your anger boiled red hot.

We have been through a lot so no matter what happens next please accept this bouquet of Forget Me Nots.

—

Time heals most wounds so how long is it going to take to mend the wound your heart has suffered at my hands?

It may never heal. It has been a couple of years now with no signs of getting better.

Sometimes I Wish I never met you. Then I would not feel the shame of having done what I did to you and to see you so hurt.

Please don’t continue to keep our kids in the dark about the reality of things.

They are smart children and you don’t give them enough credit.

They are smarter, tougher and more resilient than you think.

A mother’s love and understanding of her child runs deep.

Fathers know if their children are mentally tough enough and mature enough to handle hard facts.

I hope that one day you accept the reality of how our lives have been changed.

We both need time to think. We need to separate.

If we just never feel the way you used to feel we need to get divorced.

No more dancing around the big-ass elephant in the room.

I just don’t want to do this anymore.

This is my resignation letter.

I quit being your husband.

Both of our hearts ache, are scarred, broken, festers and oozes pus.

My darling wife, what happened to us?

The Thrill of the Hunt

This poem is a series of 13 haiku poems that are strung together in a series to tell a story. I call this style that I created a haiku chain poem. According to Dictionary.com, a haiku is a major form of Japanese verse, written in 17 syllables divided into 3 lines of 5, 7, and 5 syllables, and employing highly evocative allusions and comparisons, often on the subject of nature or one of the seasons; or a poem written in this form.

This poem is about those times when you’ve been chasing after someone for a long time but they always seem to run away.

Nonetheless, you persist. Even if it takes you more than 20+ years you will not break off your pursuit.

Also, for your listening pleasure, I hyperlinked song titles to their respective audio files on GrooveShark.com.

Enjoy the poem.

____________________________________________

“The Thrill of the Hunt”

© 2012 Tyrone Turner

All rights reserved

Damn, girl! You look good!
Your perfume is sweet and your
big smile is stunning.

You somehow resist
my most aggressive pursuits.
Come on! Stop running!

I’ll Love You Down and
Make it Last Forever – If
Only For One Night.

I want you to taste a
Piece of My Love so I can
Rock Witcha, baby.

The Sweetest Taboo
is the best way to describe
thoughts I have of you.

I’d drive your Little
Red Corvette if you’d ride my
Pony. Getty-up!

I can just hear us
now…Uhh Ahh. Don’t Say No,
Just Say Yes. Come here.

Like Allstate, you’re in
good hands because I’m All True
Man. Yep, I’m a Man.

You play hard to get.
Why You Gettin’ Funky on
Me? Please tell me why.

I get Butterflies
when I think about how long
I’ve been chasing you.

Girl, please don’t keep me
Hanging On a String. Do I
perhaps have a chance?

You know what? Maybe
I’m Never Gonna Get It.
You’re so hard to catch.

I love to chase what
I really want. I really want you.
The thrill of the hunt.

That Something Special

This poem is a series of 12 haiku poems that are strung together in a series to tell a story. I call this style that I created a haiku chain poem. According to Dictionary.com, a haiku is a major form of Japanese verse, written in 17 syllables divided into 3 lines of 5, 7, and 5 syllables, and employing highly evocative allusions and comparisons, often on the subject of nature or one of the seasons; or a poem written in this form.

This poem is to all of the lovers out there who have found that special someone and they have – well, you know, that something special.

That something special that is a fine dish cooked-up down home style by the Neely’s pictured below (from the Food Network’s show, Down Home With the Neely’s)

Also, for your listening pleasure, I hyperlinked song title to their respective audio files on GrooveShark.com.

Enjoy the poem.

“That Something Special”

© 2012 Tyrone Turner

All rights reserved.

What is it that we
have? I do not even know
what we should call it.

As enduring as
time itself. As expansive
as the galaxy.

Much sweeter than a
cube of sugar. Hotter than
a cayenne pepper.

Sending shivers through
my body like a tub full
of crushed ice – Brrrhhh! Brrrhhh!

Molten lava hot.
My heart melts at the thought of
you. I’m Burnin’ Up.

The fragrant smell of
your hair and the softness of
your radiant skin.

You make me want to
sing Something Something because
I’m so Fortunate.

Please, if I’m asleep,
don’t wake me – I’m Dreaming
Sweet Dreams made of you.

A giant among
dwarves is what you are, my love.
Girl, you’re So Amazing.

Indescribable.
Not by words, pictures nor by
videos. Unique.

So, what do we have?
Fond memories and the sheer
joy of the moment.

A promising and
bright future with you. Just Us.
That something special.

My Sweet, Darling Mother

This is a special Mothers Day poem for all of the mothers out there. HAPPY MOTHERS DAY 2012!

___________________________________

“My Sweet, Darling Mother”

© 2012 Tyrone Turner

All rights reserved.

I can never thank you enough for the nine months you carried me.

Through those nine months you had morning sickness and strange cravings.

You endured incredible discomfort and pain when you were in labor and when you gave birth to me.

You sacrificed so much for me. Material things, time freedom and perhaps even your girlish figure.

The unconditional love you gave me.

All of the diapers you changed. All of the tears you wiped.

I will always love and honor you.

You’re more valuable than all the rubies, jades, sapphires, emeralds, and every other precious gem in the world.

You are dearest to me and I love you like I love no other.

My first love, my sweet, darling mother.

Red, Gold and Green Dreams

This poem is a series of 27 haiku poems that are strung together in a series to tell a story. I call this style that I created a haiku chain poem. According to Dictionary.com, a haiku is a major form of Japanese verse, written in 17 syllables divided into 3 lines of 5, 7, and 5 syllables, and employing highly evocative allusions and comparisons, often on the subject of nature or one of the seasons; or a poem written in this form.

This poem is dedicated to the beautiful women of Guyana. I also hyperlinked the title of a song by Billy Ocean and a song by Culture Club to their respective audio files on GrooveShark.com.

This poem will part of a series I’m putting together called Caribbean Queens.

Enjoy!

__________________________

“Red, Gold and Green Dreams”
By Tyrone Turner
Copyright 2012
All rights reserved

You are a daughter
of Ethiopia by
way of Guyana.

Are you from that place?
I think it was called Jonestown?
I drank your Kool-Aid.

Ahhh… What a cool drink.
Refreshing. Satisfying.
I can’t stop drinking!

Touched by the sun. You
are an ebony goddess.
Shaped by Amen Ra.

Your delicious meals.
Dhal puri and cook up rice
washed down with Mauby.

Our home is tidy.
The way you keep the house clean
and smelling so fresh.

Wonderful mother
and wife. You hold it down, girl.
You’re such a treasure.

Caribbean queen.
Billy Ocean sang that song.
Hey, does he know you?

Your skin is as smooth
and as soft as plush velvet.
Tempted to touch it.

Hair is short and neat.
You wear it well, beautiful.
Go with your bad self!

I now have quite a
discriminatory and
specific palate.

I don’t want no damn
Yankee girls. They are too far
removed from culture.

Not all of them are,
but I’d dare say most of them
bow to Babylon.

I will never speak
poorly of all Yankee girls.
My mother is one.

So are my sisters,
aunts, cousins, and my neices.
They are all in touch.

This is not about
any other woman though,
sweetie pie. Just you.

I love your homeland.
The culture is unique and
very welcoming.

Your national flag
sums up your best qualities.
You are quite a girl!

“Golden Arrowhead.”
That is the name of your flag.
“Old Glory,” U.S. flag.

Green in your nation’s
flag is for the forested
nature of your land.

Red is for the zeal
and dynamic growth that lies
ahead. Exciting!

It has white in it
to symbolize its rivers
and water supply.

The golden arrow
signifies mineral wealth.
It’s a “have nation.”

Your nation’s banner
has black for the endurance
your people sustain.

Boy George used to sing
this: “Karma, Karma Karma
Chameleon,” right?

So, let me tell you
something about the color
of my dreams, sweetheart.

No black and white dreams.
I dream of your smiling face.
Red, gold and green dreams.

The Warrior’s Code

The picture to the right is called “The Chase at Rattlesnake Springs,” by Don Stivers.

This poem is a series of 18 haiku poems that are strung together in a series to tell a story. I call this style that I created a haiku chain poem. According to Dictionary.com, a haiku is a major form of Japanese verse, written in 17 syllables divided into 3 lines of 5, 7, and 5 syllables, and employing highly evocative allusions and comparisons, often on the subject of nature or one of the seasons; or a poem written in this form.

This poem is dedicated to the warriors who have influenced me as a martial artist. Special thanks to Soke Chaka Zulu, Kyoshi Roman Lutak, Renshi David Bunch (aka, “Sensei Buddha”), and Master Michael Griffin.

_______________________________

“The Warrior’s Code”
By Tyrone Turner
Copyright 2012
All rights reserved

Be a peacekeeper.
Do not provoke anyone
to war against you.

As the Swiss nation
understands, prepare for war
and peace will be yours.

Empty-handed skills.
Weaponry. Stealth. Surveillance.
Calm under all stress.

Principle-based and
not technique-centered. In fights,
there are no givens.

Prepare for it all
because you know not what may
come your way one day.

Striking defeats joint
locks and grabs. Clinching beats strikes.
Joint locks beats clinching.

Falling is an art
form. To know how to fall helps
avoid breaks and scrapes.

Sticks, saps, chains and whips.
Pocket sticks, pocket knives and
Griffin Grips™. Good deals.

Spears and tomahawks.
Cross bows, boomerangs, throwing
stars and sling shots. Guns.

Africa, Asia,
Europe, the Americas,
and Pacific isles.

All gave birth to some
form of combat method of
self preservation.

North America
gave rise to great masters. Like
Grandmaster Powell.

He is my martial
great-grandfather. He is the
Sanuces founder.

My grandfather is
Soke Chaka Zulu whom
laid a solid base.

Kyoshi Lutak
helped forge fighting spirit in
me. School of hard knocks.

Renshi Buddha is
who has opened my eyes to
possibilities.

I will continue
to train to become the best
that I can become.

Be gentle in life.
Be ferocious in combat.
The warrior’s code.

Dear Mother of Mine

“Dear Mother of Mine”
By Tyrone Turner
Copyright 2012
All rights reserved.

This poem is a series of 10 haiku poems that are strung together in a series to tell a story. I call this style that I created a haiku chain poem. According to Dictionary.com, a haiku is a major form of Japanese verse, written in 17 syllables divided into 3 lines of 5, 7, and 5 syllables, and employing highly evocative allusions and comparisons, often on the subject of nature or one of the seasons; or a poem written in this form.

______________________________________

My lovely mother.
I love you so very much.
You gave birth to me.

You wiped my crying
eyes and rocked me to sleep when
I didn’t feel well.

You taught me to know
the difference between right
and wrong, good and bad.

Sometimes though you had
to pop me in the mouth when
I was being fresh.

Never excessive.
Your punishments were always
fair and truly just.

You taught me to read.
You taught me to spell and write.
I excelled in school.

I was a happy
child. I don’t recall a day
when I was hungry.

My clothes were fresh and
clean. Wearing the latest and
coolest of designs.

Most importantly,
I always felt your love and
received your wisdom.

My birthday is not
about me. It’s about you.
Dear mother of mine.

Law of Attraction

The piece to the left is called Right Now, by Merrill Robinson.

It seemed appropriate for this poem.

“The Law of Attraction”
By Tyrone Turner
Copyright 2012
All rights reserved.

This poem is a series of 18 haiku poems that are strung together in a series to tell a story. According to Dictionary.com, a haiku is a major form of Japanese verse, written in 17 syllables divided into 3 lines of 5, 7, and 5 syllables, and employing highly evocative allusions and comparisons, often on the subject of nature or one of the seasons; or a poem written in this form.

_________________________________________________________

That beautiful smile
and your alluring aura
make me go crazy.

Our heated debates.
Yeah, we share jokes together.
You’re great company.

Your taste in fine arts.
The exotic dishes you
prepare. Just scrumptious!

When I play my sax
you sway to the melodic
tunes. We’re quite an act.

I recite my poems
to you. You answer back in
call and response style.

We have so much in
common. Two peas in a pod.
You belong to me.

My heart belongs to
you. You’re a kind caretaker.
I love and trust you.

The sweet scent of your
perfume is a delicious
treat that I enjoy.

Your soft, velvety
skin shimmers with the after-
glow of love-making.

The moans and the sobs.
You seem to be enjoying
yourself to the max.

Vanilla ice cream
and that chocolate syrup
was a tasty treat.

Singing Marvin and
Tammy. “Ain’t nothing like the
real thing, baby.” True.

There is no title
for our song because what we
have is quite unique.

Loving you between
the sheets like Ronald Isley.
Footsteps in the dark.

Your steamy kisses.
Your slow, rhythmic gyrations.
Your firm embrace. Yes!

Universal laws.
What goes up always comes down.
Law of gravity.

Opposites attract,
but common ground is better
because it endures.

Everything is right.
Smooth like butter. No problems.
Law of attraction.

The Flutter of Butterfly Wings

The Flutter of Butterfly Wings
by Tyrone Turner
Copyright 2011. All rights reserved.

___________________________________

What goes around always comes back around is a widely-known cliché.

So when that boomerang you threw hits you in the heart there is nothing you can say.

In Las Vegas, new suckers are born every hour who give their winnings back to the house.

They appear to be unstoppable and on fire, but eventually the cat will catch the mouse.

When you have a good thing going at home, baby don’t change it.

One careless whisper or a reason to suspect you’re doing dirt can rearrange it.

The words of your secret lover sound so sweet in your ears.

But if what you’re hiding gets found out you’ll realize some of your worst fears.

Maybe you’ll get a big disease with a little name, or perhaps you’ll face an unexpected baby on the way.

Those two scenarios will turn anyone’s jet-black hair silver-gray.

What about if you’re exposed on Facebook?

Damn…

That wouldn’t be a good look.

Not for your family or your career.

Stay out of trouble. Stand back and steer clear.

Poof! Up in smoke!

There go your dreams, buddy. Now you’re a has-been.

Like Humpty Dumpty, all the kings horses and all the kings men can’t put your life back together again.

Fellas, it always starts off slow and seemingly harmless at first.

All you want is a little something-something – a sip once in a while to quench your thirst.

You loved it when she passionately screamed out your name or called you Big Poppa. Those are two names you just loved to hear.

Roll the dice one times to many and things accelerate quickly. Like a formula one racing car going from first to sixth gear.

When you open Pandora’s box you let out all sort of things.

But you will not hear it or see it coming. Sort of like the flutter of butterfly wings.