Poet Spotlight: Kiyana Blount | Yecheilyah’s 2nd Annual Poetry Contest 2018

This week we are spotlighting the winners of the 2nd Annual Poetry Contest! Today, you’ll get to meet the poets and read their poems. Let’s dive right in with our 4th Place winner.

Introducing Kiyana Blount

Copyright©Kiyana Blount. Used with permission.

Kiyana Blount is a mother, wife, and friend who has a heart of pure gold. She is 27 years old and has a passion for the arts. Kiyana loves to write, dance, sing and act and every time she walks in the room has a light that cannot be dimmed. On her journey through self-love, she is learning how to not only uplift herself but those around her. Kiyana is a hard worker and believes she can accomplish anything she wants to!

Kiyana, so good to meet you beautiful! Why don’t you tell us a little about yourself and what inspired your poem.

Kiyana: My life is what inspired this poem! I am currently on a journey of rebuilding my inner Goddess and going back to loving myself and being the best version of myself. This poem is my truth!

I love that. I understand that you have a business. Tell us a little bit about that.

Kiyana: The business I am apart of is bringing awareness to little black Kings and Queens through reading the truth about themselves. One of the books is called I’m Naturally Beautiful and it shows little Black Queens that they do not have to conform to what society says and shows through media. They are beautiful the way they are and can do anything they put their mind to!

Excellent. Clouded Container is a powerful poem. How did you come up with the title and what does it mean?

Kiyana: I came up with the title with some inspiration from a book I’m reading called Warrior Goddess: Become the woman who you are meant to be by Heatherash Amara. In the book, it talks about how you are a container and in your container you take things out and put things in. Whether it’s negative or positive! Sometimes the things we put into ourselves is not always good and it clouds our judgment. It causes nasty smudges and debris and you have to scrub real good to clear it out. I am guilty of many insecurities and making myself feel bad and on my journey of self-love, I have eliminated that. I have grown to love me and everything that makes me, flaws and all. I gave myself a good scrub down!! That’s how I got the title Clouded Container.

Wow. I like that container analogy. Well Kiyana, there are several lines in the poem that caught our attention. One was:

“Conditioned to see cracks in a broken mirror that never fell.”

Can you, briefly, explain that line to us?

Kiyana: It’s funny because that’s actually one of my favorite lines in my poem! What that line is saying is that in our society and the world we live in, they make it their duty to set a standard and make you feel like everything is wrong with you. That’s when insecurities and doubts and negative thoughts about yourself begin. You start to see yourself in this broken mirror. But once you remove the glasses that society prescribed to you, you realize you are so amazing and magical and that the mirror never moved, never fell and was never broken. It was just somebody else trying to define who YOU are!

Girl you betta speak!

Now, let’s get into this poem!

 

Clouded Container, Copyright©Kiyana Blount

4th Place Winner

Love

The universal chord to everything

We only see the clouded container without seeing the internal contents that we thought were nonexistent.

Conditioned to see cracks in a broken mirror that never fell

Finding folds and creases in a painting that never left the frame.

Society polluting the consciousness of the reflection I am reaching out to grab

That inner gut feeling saying to stop hiding behind the shadow that doesn’t show at night.

Listening, deeply to the silent thoughts of my mental.

Light shining through the judgmental audience sitting in the sky box of the windows to your soul.

Wow, I can feel the warmth of it. The molded embrace around my higher being.

No worries, no doubts, no questioning; but only the remedy to a strong woman’s dis-ease.

Self-love.

Caring to uplift myself.

Envisioning a powerful Goddess grooming the strength, courage, compassion and fearlessness of her spirit.

Caring to unravel the negative wraps around my illuminating golden brown skin.

The love shines through my pores.

Being able to move through self-love helps me to care and cultivate the container that was once clouded.

Releasing the contents that almost became buried treasure.

Be Sure to Follow Kiyana Online!

Facebook: Kiyana Blount

IG: kueen7


Stand by for our 3rd Runner-Up.

Nia Elise is up tomorrow!

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These Good People

I will tell you of these good people

A scroll of courtesy on their tongues

Neatly wrapped in rainbows

And angel’s wings

The finest hello

And thank you

And good morning, please

We are telecommunicators

In front of computer screens

With scripts

And sayings

And clichés

That ring sunshine

Like a glass of sweet summer breeze

Trapped in cold winter bottles

Set free

But hurricanes do happen

And thunderstorms will sometimes fall into your lap

You may one day trip over someone’s mistake

Find typos in their smile

Cracks in their armor

Leaks in their wine-skins

And I promise you that these people

Will backspace their lines

Tighten up their scripts

2nd draft their good mornings

Because the sun didn’t shine on you today

One mistake

One mishap

One earthquake

And I promise you

That they will pick out their courtesy from your face

Peel back the savior

Their “how are you?” left in your smile

Pull back the Hero once carved into their chest

That moment they cared more about you

Than they cared about self

But one mistake

And they’ll drop their cape

At the foot of your tragedy

I promise you

That the levees of trust

Will break

And Crack

And leak with suspicion

From the pores of their skins

You’ll smell the stench

Of give up

On their breaths

The sour taste of newborn behind their ears

The fabricated persona

Tattooed on top their tongues

I warn you

Whilst bathing in the wake of your passion

Whilst being kissed by white paper

Do not forget

That these people are not your friends

And will turn their backs

When you need them most

Because in the age of technology

Most people’s thoughts are not theirs

And their courtesies are pre-written

Hearts plagiarized

A routine kindness

From so called good people

Who forgot to mention that angels

Are not always good

So paper wings will just have to do

A standard hello

Like the signature on an email

And they have convinced themselves

That this

Is

Love

Why is this Picture Frame Empty? #MayChallengeRepostDay5

When I logged into my WordPress account, I had other plans for what to post today. I was not looking for writing prompts or post ideas. However, when I saw Felicia’s Writing Prompt: “Why is this picture frame empty?” I knew then what my purpose for logging on was. This prompt is an excellent way to spark a thoughtful conversation and for those of you who know me, or rather my writing style, you know that if there is one thing I enjoy, it is thoughtful conversations. So, why is this picture frame empty?

empty-frame

In life we tend to severely underestimate the power of choice. If you ask someone why their life turned out the way that it did, they are most certainly going to give you the details. These details may range from a number of things: upbringing, childhood, circumstances, racism, discrimination, abuse, neglect, the list goes on and on. Interestingly enough, rarely will you hear:

“I am where I am in my life because I chose to be here.”

The picture frame is only empty if you want it to be. If you see nothing, then that is what exists. This happens a lot in life. Every day we are only capable of seeing what it is we want to see, and sometimes this makes it difficult to embrace the necessary changes we need to grow or to even recognize the palpable. What is obvious from our perspective is the only thing that exists, but we cannot see the other side of it. If I bang my hand hard against the table you will feel it move. Even if you can’t see me, you will feel the effects of me hitting the table. The question is: Do you limit your perspective to that which you can only see, feel, taste, and touch physically? Or will you consider that something made the table move? It’s all about the decisions and the choices that we make.

While I can give you a million reasons why I can or cannot do a certain thing, one truth remains: Each and every individual is where he or she is because he or she chose to be there. When we start taking this kind of responsibility over our lives, we will be in a better position in every respect. We undergo changes every day. The only problem with change is that everyone wishes to change his circumstances but never his mind. When we each start to self-examine ourselves and start to take accountability for our life and the things that are happening in it, only then will we be better able to see what really lies ahead.

Why is the picture frame empty?

It depends on what you choose to see. Maybe it’s not a picture frame at all. Maybe it’s a mirror.

Write Me a Picture

A blank faced lyric
how dull is the stare of a ball point pen
bleeding empty
This collection of words all myth in mouth
colorful descriptions
that cannot pierce the skin
or cut the bone and tendons of image
What lay beyond the composition of a word undefined
What triviality is a tasteless meal
What kind of food is this
What scarlet
What fine silk
What significance are thoughts under ball pointed pens
that have no pixel
And cannot paint
That cannot walk across the bottomless ocean of sing
Cannot sing this gut
What rebellious tongue
What confusing blood from bleeding pens
Something strange these destinations duplicate
Copied vision
No fire
No engines and bare fist
No fight beyond the pretty
No pretty beyond the picture
twisted mouths
no open minds
Do you mind?
writing me a picture
viewable beyond my eyes
write me something I can see
with my gut
and feel underneath my skin
no just sound good
no just feel euphoria
but write me a picture
beyond ball pointed pens
and pixels