When your hair defies gravity and systematic racism at the same damn time!
Please read another fist-clenching poem by Ericajean, written for BlaPoWriMo!
–N
poetry challenge
#BlaPoWriMo – from the archives
As my dear friend Emily Dickinson ( đ )once said…
Much Madness is divinest Sense…
Much Sense – the starkest Madness…Don’t get it twisted!
Enjoy another poem by Ray Maxwell for BlaPoWriMo!
–N
Life is so much more like
Parks and Recreation than
Madame Secretary.
So donât get it twisted
when you pull the curtain back.
Poetry is just streaming words â
nothing high brow about it â
painting is lines and shapes
splashed on canvas with a brush â
and dancing is shifting weight
from one foot to the other
in motion across a wooden floor.
If I were a strong wind Iâd wrap
all around you â if a river,
Iâd rise up to your knees â
if a song, Iâd bounce tenderly
against your eardrums, until I
found my way into your inner heart.
Life. More like Parks and Recreation,
less like Madame Secretary,
nothing like The Good Wife.
Life. Donât get it twisted.
Decoding Poetry: #BlaPoWriMo, ‘The Young Ones'(Poem)
For BlaPoWriMo, my friend Ericajean shares her thoughts on Sterling A. Brown’s “The Young Ones.”
Looking specifically at the lines, “Itâs as far as theyâll get / For many a year; / Cotton brought them / and will keep them here,â she raises two questions: What brought us, and what is keeping us here?
A question I would like to add is: What is “here”?
What are your thoughts? Please respond directly on Ericajean’s post, as comments here will be disabled.
–N
#BlaPoWriMo – Saturday night special sonnet
Check out another poem from my friend Ray, written for BlaPoWriMo. Show him your love!
Each universe with which we interact
demands of us a level of respect
and complicity, yes, complicity,
while we wonder if we are hypocrits,
or merely disbelievers. As if it
even matters. And what doesnât kill us
endows us, becomes our strength and power,
our shelter in a storm. The paths we trod
we tread, the record of our deeds becomes
our judgment day, our immortality.
Be patient with me â Iâm not finished yet.
Pay no attention to my southern charm,
that folksiness you underestimate
is just a steady cadence for my march.
Slavery Museum
Dear Friends, here’s another exceptional poem by K. Morris written for BlaPoWriMo. Please show him your love.
Walking around the Museum of Slavery, in Liverpool
I come face-to-face with the cruel
Past
Where ships crossed the ocean vast
With their human cargo.
Many a negro
Slave
Paid for beautiful properties to be built
By Liverpool merchants who gave
Generously to charity
To set themselves free
From guilt.
Its true
That slavery isnât new.
It was practiced in Greek and Roman time,
Yet the crime
Of the transatlantic slave trade
Has made
More of a mark
Perhaps because those of lighter skin
Committed the sin
Of taking those of dark
Complexion
From their native land,
Which was a rejection
Of the truth that beneath the skin
We are one in nature
(Or god the creator),
Depending on your view
Of what is true.
Our love died long ago
And I know
Not what Happened to you.
But I remember walking through
That place
Just Two lovers of differentâŠ
View original post 8 more words
At Night
When love knows no color or bounds…
Please check out this beautiful poem written by K. Morris for BlaPoWriMo!–N
At night
There is no black and white.
Just the delight
Of you and me,
Converging
Merging,
Completely free
Of race
And place.
(https://lovelycurses.com/february-black-poetry-writing-month/).
Without Shadows We Are But Ghosts, #BlaPoWriMo, #Slavery
Thanks so much Ericajean for joining BlaPoWriMo! Friends, please take the time to read her poem. Such vivid and painful imagery of our past. Truly, without the shadows we are but ghosts.
–N
#BlaPoWriMo: Post-#SOTU2018 ruminations
It was a cold morning in the Bottom.
Reading âTrading Twelvesâ on the Orange Line
I missed my Red Line stop, so I continued
riding (and reading) to the Yellow Line
crossing at LâEnfant Plaza. Already late
for work anyway, I made a detour
and grabbed a hot breakfast to go at Saintsâ
Paradise Cafe. Picked up The Hill paper
for an update on Tuesdayâs #SOTU speech
because it went on forever and I had
my bedtime to keep. Turns out the Negro Caucus
was grumpy all night, sad-faced and wearing
the kente of their African ancestry
around their necks to make a statement.
