hot summer rain, steam streams off side walks and the hard concrete of a 12 by 14 front porch. broken drain becomes Niagara falls, though we have never seen it. pictures from mama’s Britannica are all we need to know this is what it must look like. “Monsoon,” he screams and we laugh so loud…
Tag: OctPoWriMo
fredrick douglass & mr. covey (a found poem)
My mind left me to my fate. Under the circumstances I watched my chance, disregarded threats and made my way. I walked through woods. My strength failed me. I fell down for a time. I nerved myself again and started through bogs and briers home. About this Poem: I am a day late with this…
this poem is for mariah (the first free woman of my line)
solemnly by a lakeside i once sat upon a hill, teaching myself to pray it was a not so long ago time when a feast of fear was normal fair i happily prayed for days of ever increasing joy believing my after would surpass my grandmother’s before and so it has amen. About this Poem: My…
half a life, no longer a wife
half is considerably less than all when there are full size bills in this medium size life with extra large shoes to fit mini-size you.
hymn 195: blessed is this single mother
don’t get it twisted this life is impossible without great assistance ‘it takes a village’ may be an edict some merely speak to unclench cheeks but this is a philosophy not a hypothesis for me it takes a dentist, a baker, a prophet, and toy maker to mold this world of a near perfect peace…
because pink is no longer guiltless or cheerful
please click the picture to learn more about breast cancer i wish pizza boxes and pink ribboned socks actually cured cancer i wish walking this mile and sending this smile on instagram made chemo cheerier i wish promises of whatever i can do will be done actually changed diagnoses and extended prognoses i wish sending…
hollywood’s selling but i ain’t buying
tangled sheets intertwined sweaty limbs gasps coming so swiftly they are indistinguishable is that your breath or mine both Hollywood and Disney have you sold on a lie spending lifetime and savings in search of eternal first kiss fervor while hoping for the drama of stolen embrace in a gentle downpour leaving you heaving in…
mostly they save themselves (on children, crises, and fumbling adults)
prologue she is more woman in her four foot three inch frame than most will ever be steady hand runs through unwashed hair dark blue eyes set she grabs her sister firmly and walks unknowingly into tomorrow. i. he is drunk when they find him crying on curb head in hands wherearemybabies inaudible he mutters…
if they can live it, i can hear it (and sometimes, perhaps, help heal it)
4 million children like having your head in a vise it squeezes and squeezes then you feel like you can’t breath so you punch shit but that breaks your hands and then you end up in a hospital bed strapped to a pole and hocked up on drugs but still your head is being squoze…
i breath, i write (a manifesto in 4 parts)
i. little girls should not make their beds in domestic violence shelters. my day begins. hostage to teenage angst and true crises, bullets blast through communities, the aftershock a ripple effect reaching into everyone’s finances. you’d think it was all about thugs and suicidal watches but its those close calls, those near falls…
fearfree living 