Swinging Hips

Swinging Hips

Label: Poems | Author: Stanford Erickson
Jan 24, 2013

Dedicated to Tonya Maria Matthews


Who are you, with wide hips

And swaying pride,

To tell me

What’s inside

The motivations of the western tide

That inundates and floods

All of Africa’s jungled passion

And deserts of morality.


Who are you, who show moist loins

That drip sanctimonious juices

On fertile black soil

To grow up weeds

That spin and toil

Against the fierce

West wind.


Who are you,

To claim that your wide

And yearning hips

Were big enough

To shake and bake

My celestial stars

Carry in your embryo

My sun and moon

And warm my desire

To seed you with

Constellations far and wide

Or are you just being snide

Or swelling up your supple breasts

To hide

The fear inside.




No need to challenge me

Or claim to breed

All my seed.

Though I was there

Before the air

Before any thought of you.

Before the stars, moons and sun

Before any one.

Still I did conceive you.

I did take pleasure

In knowing that you would be

A wonderful woman

Beautiful in side and out.

I saw your end

Before your beginning.


And now as you curse and shout

And glory in your heritage

And blame the white man

And the western world

For sins and atrocities

That black man conceived and taught

His younger bleached brethren,

I would laugh if I did not cry so much.


I love you all

Black, white, red, brown and yellow.

And I intend to teach you,

Even you with swinging wide hips

And a pretty smile

When you don’t frown,

That I made you

And I own you

And I can do what I want with you.

And what I want with you is to love you.

Yes even you,

Wide and sassy hips,

Wide as hell

But made for heaven.


                   Stanford Erickson


Copyright © Stanford Erickson. All rights Reserved