Tuesday, March 29, 2016

Naming Female Inventors

- after the Black Woman

There is Harriet Tubman,
who dug the underground
railroad with her bare body
until the sands mixed 
with her blood. Her hope:
to see her people bound 
in the chains of freedom.

She invented independence
for the black kingdom.

Then there is my mother
who carried me, exceeding
nine months, bearing milk
filled breast heavier than stones,
because I refused to suck.
When I split the skin 
on the back of head, she could
not eat. She travelled across
the atlantic but did not leave
without a promise of return.

My mother, she invented me. 


Photo by Ste.Marie

Thursday, March 24, 2016

Dealing with the Cross

He bought me
while I was ragged, 
crimson soiled,
 rooted- dead- sprung 
up, spitting greens.

He exchanged 
his eternal being
to wrap me 
in the warmth
of the blood,
washed me—rivers 
flower over me.

It wasn't gold
melted, solid, shining,
it wasn't silver
as the white sun reflects
on a pool of water.

Not the images of kings
and queens or petitions
signed with palms of
perishable princes

whose lives are but vapor.

Friday, March 18, 2016

Upcoming Reading!!!

I'm excited to announce my first reading at an art gallery in the Bronx

Follow this link to reserve your seat:  https://pen.org/event/2016/01/21/bronx-africa-poetry-town-hall-tour

In Praise of Art





I have learned to adore a pen and a paper more than anything else in this world.
I am grateful to my right hand which delights in following every step of my dreams.
I congratulate my eyes for lying open during dark nights and heavy seasons.
A standing ovation to the neurons and axons and cerebellum and cerebrum that continue to adorn me with the beauty of intelligence.
I commend my eyes for allowing me to see, and if blind, I would have thanked my ears 
What a traitor to forget the nose and the tongue: expression will never be the same without you.
What is a writer without a heart, a pulse to pump a  flow of interest and desire of wealth through these valves?

I thank God for life; mine and everyone else's' that allows me to write.







image by William Ste. Marie

Friday, March 11, 2016

Caged- for Nelson Mandela


                                                           27 years a man was caged 
                            for being right, black in his skin,
placed behind an iron box.
                        They took his light and 
                                    his reflections,
                                              he refused to give up
his heart, his mind.
                         Firm, unwavering, optimistic.
                                           He made it out in time...
                                                     How long are you willing to be

                         Caged?

image from nelsonmandela.net

Saturday, March 5, 2016

9:05 am Poetry





Who named the swan?

born to surprise the world
with its feathers
as it sits on water
majestic as a reed 
warblers nest, guarded 
by the fragrance
of wild berries. When she opens
her wings, they spread over 
the oceans, the toughest plumes, a humble neck, curved lips, dotted eyes--black.









image from http://alzirrswanheartstock.deviantart.com/

Thursday, March 3, 2016

Who's in Your Circle?



Who are your friends? Ask Job and he'll tell you he doesn't know. But, he knows that some                           creatures pretending to be friends in you circle need to disappear. They add insult to injury, make you wonder how they became part of your friend list in the first place.
            Sometimes, we find ourselves amongst the worst group of people, or
                     they find their way to us.
                               Our efforts to erase them from our lives results in thoughts of loneliness.
  we would rather be friends than wondering hearts looking for familiar grounds to rest.
               Ask your self these three questions about your friends: Do they add value to my life? Do I positively influence them? How is my life goal connected to theirs?




image by inshiraphotos

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