Category: Poetry

Womanhood Don’t Begin in Menstrual Cycles

Yecheilyah-72dpi-1500x2000-e-bookIs a collection of poems and inspirational quotes that focuses on womanhood. Scheduled for release at the end of this month, this book combines poetry with the strength of true womanhood. It will also feature an audio book of a selection of pieces. It will be available as an e-book as well as in print. I will also present opportunities for free copies to be given in exchange for a review. Details on that coming soon.

From Girlhood to Womanhood

When I got my first menstrual cycle at thirteen, I remember everyone being very excited. I remember them hugging me and explaining things I did not wholly understand. I was not very excited, but they were. This was obviously a very important part of my life that the adult women before me had apparently made clear. “Why was everyone so happy about this?”  I thought.

Today, the menstrual cycle is no longer symbolic of the great “Welcome to Womanhood” or “Rite of Passage” as it once was. Women are not excited to speak about it. They may feel it exposes the “nastiness” of too much information. And in most extreme cases, many young women do not understand what it is. What has degraded a woman’s transition from girlhood to womanhood? We do know one thing for sure: the maturity of a young woman’s mind yesterday as compared to today. It seems that at some point in our history, the growth of our little girls, especially within the black community, has depended so much on the shape of the body, that it has stumped mental growth. Young women walk around here today and they think turning eighteen or twenty-one automatically gives them a right to womanhood, although the cultivation of their mind is stuck in childhood. Many of them do not understand that womanhood is not just the outer appearance of what makes up a female. It is not breast, booty, vagina and hips, and it does not arrive necessarily with age. Though with age comes wisdom, not everyone who is of age is wise, and as such not even age itself can alone define womanhood. For this reason we cannot assume, for today’s woman, that her womanhood began the moment she bled her first menstrual cycle.

Guest Feature – Touched by an Angel

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We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love’s light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.

Touched by an Angel – Maya Angelou

Truth Is…

…foundational
no structure can exist without it,
and no tree can stand if its truth has not taken root.
Truth is not held captive to the dogma of religion….
held bondage within the framework of theology….
it is not trapped inside the walls of College classrooms,
oppressed by the lips of Baptist ministers,
and does not sing the hymn of Islamic melodies……
it is neither canonized nor done away with….
neither stolen away nor traded amidst the bowels of slave ships…..
truth is not lynched,
nor shackled against the cages of fear….
it refuses to shake hands with deception,
and will never embrace the arms of uncertainty
because truth is always certain.
It is sure to be like nothing you can ever imagine
but be everything you’ve ever hoped for….
it is accepted by the faithful….
and resisted by those who are afraid.

Not Another One

microphone

No
This is not another one
Not a sex poem,
not a hood poem
Not a “I’m black and I’m proud!” so let’s try to be real poem
Not another marching
No more killings
(and please let’s do something other than sit in)
not another “We shall overcome.”
No not another one
Not a slow one
Not one 2 bore you
I’m not that one
Rising from my falls
I am that one,
but don’t you worry,
cause not another dialogue
No not another one
Not another long-winded one
nor will I give you a fast one
No not another fast one,
you see my words no need 2 map it
So what am I a rapper or a poet?
Not another one
yet just another one
these words I encourage your minds 2 freeze it
Just freeze
Cause this is not another one about Jes-
Us
not another one about Just
Us
Not a kemet poet
and can you believe I have a twin but this is not another Mary Mary Duet
Not another Allah, Buddha, Osiris and Horus,
not another number 2 define me no matter what the score is
For only the Truth knows what my sentence is
She with the gun in her hand you mistake for the pen
Keeping the laws that my father gave
and promises kept sacred from the grave
Watching this pen bleed life onto a lifeless page
Sent from the mighty one,
but don’t you worry
this is not another
“So like, I’ll just leave my footprints in the Sun” one
No,
she’s definitely not another one
yet just another one..

Black Beauty

**A little History on this Poem**

This is a 12 year old poem. It has since been revised but this is the original copy that I wrote back when I was a sophomore in High School. It was entered into a contest and it won. I was then to fly to Rio Nevada for the award ceremony but I could not afford to go. I have since performed it many times throughout my High School career at assemblies and talent shows. For me it was my first poem. It was the first poem I wrote that really spoke about something deeper than my personal adolescent issues and reached beyond the childhood perspective I was used to writing about. It was also my first Spoken Word poem, the first poem I ever shared while standing before an Audience. Today I would like to share it with you. (Keep in mind I was only like 15 when I wrote this so bear with me lol):

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BEAUTY
Wake up Black beauty!
Look up black beauty!
And see the mountain range
Stand up Black beauty, know your name
Be the Sun that shines,
I clothe in your sweetness, I see in your eyes
I notice your strength and weaknesses that lies
Time has gone and we have grown,
into these skies of disguise
we are Earth’s insects, its flies.
Walking this ground with our black feet,
sitting at tables eating our black meat,
it is beauty we see.
Working our black railroads
While listening to stories retold
Watching as oceans and seas travel for miles and miles without smirks or smiles,
licking greedy lips,
waiting for boats and ships to please its hips
we are the ground walked upon
We sing and cook with soul offering any hungry person a bowl
We realize the importance of education
that we had before civilization
that we had before coming into the truth of our very own nation.
A nation of many different colors and sizes,
all of various secrets and surprises
We are the proud combination of dark skins,
from small twos to plus sized tens,
we are ALL beautiful.

They Had It All

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Tim Okamura

 

When it came to progress reports and GPA’s there could be some acknowledgement
But when it came to c-cups she was incompetent
Forced to be ashamed of her good girl,
turned off abstinence like it was an accident
bought clothes by the way they fit,
if pants didn’t hug thighs
and waist bands didn’t advertise hips,
and if these English words couldn’t intellectualize the gloss on these lips…
then they stayed on the shelf
because see this bad girl was a good girl
but because they had it all she was ashamed of herself.
had no real desire for Timberland’s but you see she rocked ’em
cause she had to
hid pretend air force one tags deep down in her shoe
so nobody could ever know that this quite girl
was trying to fit into a world that gave her the flu
cause with dark skin kinky hair
no one had the slightest idea she was there
so confidence slid into empty chairs
and she pushed set-apartness to the side
and wished for positive comments this time like they were prayers
forget water
a trip to the mall was like walking on air
and as long as footlocker existed so would this love affair
‘cause popularity called her bluff,
and although it never existed for her kindness wasn’t enough
you see A’s and B’s were fruitless and college ambitions got no recognition
unknown to her that good grades and popularity both had stock in the elite
or that invisibility would not be defined by other people’s views of herself
no more than the Jordan’s on her feet
and that no matter how hard she tried
neither Master Degrees or Apple Bottom jeans could make her complete
and despite how long she struggled through school
it was truth that offered her the first seat
knowledge,
wisdom,
and understanding she did receive
cause they had it all
and she had nothing