Did you know that October is Black History Month in the UK?
Yes!
The event began in the 1920s but was not celebrated in the UK until 1987.
In its honor, I am visiting V.M. Sang’s blog today with an interview and presentation of my book, Black History Facts You Didn’t Learn in School, released in February during Black History Month in the U.S. You can read more at the link below!
Note: We are in the process of moving all our winning poet interviews to the website. Please be sure to bookmark it at yecheilyahsannualpoetrycontest.org/.
Instagram: @adariyahysrayl
My Name is Adariyah Ysrayl and I am from Chicago, Illinois.
My name “AdariYah ( A- dar- ree- Yah) means to give respect or Adornment to The Most High.
I fell in love with poetry in 4th grade. We used to have free time journaling, and I wrote poems outside of drawing as a safe place to express my thoughts and create stories from my reality. I didn’t feel like my voice was heard as a kid, so writing poetry was a great hobby at the time. I loved it so much that I could’ve entered into a contest of writing but unfortunately didn’t from moving so much.
What inspired my poem was I gravitated to the title. My poem is also inspired by my life experiences. This year (2023) was the perfect example of how well I was able to relate to grace.
It means that the way we can extend more grace is by getting to the root of certain situations and understanding that you really never know what a person is experiencing behind closed doors. It means not to take things so personally, and to give ourselves grace is to know everything will not be shiny and beautiful, and when it isn’t, don’t be so hard on yourself.
Writing poetry is intimidating in ways. To be that vulnerable and open about yourself, especially to an audience, has caused a bit of anxiety for me. Poetry is one of the intimate forms of writing, and I am very much a student of soaking up information. What I am trying to achieve in poetry is to encourage and communicate to people who are overthinkers. At this time, I am writing again as far as my poetry is concerned.
A year from now, I see myself being more in tune with my inner voice, more adventurous, exploring new experiences, and adding new skills to my belt, and this is one of them!
The fact The Most High made an executive decision
for me to wake up and breathe.
Overlooking his inhabitants, including me.
Grace is something shown through a glimpse
of what we cannot see.
It is forgiveness minus the strife.
It is something I’m constantly learning how to do
and it’s an ongoing fight.
Before I gave Grace to anyone,
I had to see within myself.
I had to lose myself to gain humility,
and some of my mental health.
My mind got so loud,
and I didn’t know which way to go.
Then my Heavenly Father said to me,
“I’ve always had the navigation of which way you need to go.”
I cried because I knew the destination was right in front of me.
But because I didn’t let Grace lead, I let my ego get the best of me.
I would take two steps forward just to get pushed back three.
That yoke of iron called life would get the best of me.
That is until I finally overcame the battles and pain.
Start giving others and yourself Grace a day
and watch your life change.
Copyright©2023 Adariyah Ysrayl
Adariyah is a Freelance Makeup Artist in the DMV area. She uses her creative skills to help people feel confident and provides a safe space for people anticipating a special event or moment. Adariyah is committed to helping her clients feel beautiful so they can “stand on business.” She is a mother and wife and hopes her brand will help others to see the beauty within themselves. She currently lives in Delaware.
Note: We are in the process of moving all our winning poet interviews to the website. Please be sure to bookmark it at yecheilyahsannualpoetrycontest.org/.
Instagram: @_olops_
My name is Olopade Samuel, im from Lagos, Nigeria.
Poetry/writing had always been my sort of remedy. Growing up with a speech impediment made me value writing as the best way to express myself when words failed me.
You know the saying, “You don’t know what you have till you lose it?” It’s synonymous with “You don’t know what you really want till you have it.” I see Grace in the same light. Being from dark places or places of just basic wants, the same wants everybody’s after, but then you find you’re getting things in an unparalleled manner. I see that as Grace. Basically, it’s an unparalleled favor.
Unparalleled favor, lol.
In understanding, we’re all in similar races, on different fronts, but in the same cycle. As a volunteer and a fervent altruist, I believe in giving. Someone somewhere needs that unparalleled favor to get to the point they really need to be at, and you never know who your act of kindness could affect via a series of chain reactions you’re not even aware of.
I am hoping to be a voice for the voiceless, a way to express and share feelings and emotions that are not easily seen.
I see myself thanking the past me for not giving up.
In the crucible of pain, we find our Grace,
A journey from the depths to a higher place.
From sorrow’s grip, we rise to happiness’s embrace,
A transformation beyond what words can trace.
Beyond physical exertion, it’s the strength of soul,
Grace, like a river, making wounded hearts whole.
In every stumble, in every broken pace,
Grace is the warmth of a loving, forgiving space.
Accepting our shortcomings, embracing them with love,
We find Grace showered from the heavens above.
In this masterpiece of life, we all play a part,
Grace, the melody that harmonizes every heart.
So let Grace be the bridge that carries us through,
From pain to happiness, from old to the new.
In this tapestry of life, a wondrous embrace,
Grace binds us all with love’s enduring Grace.
In the realm of Grace, we find our way,
Where kindness and love forever sway.
A gentle touch, a whispered word,
In Grace’s embrace, our hearts are stirred.
Through trials and storms, we often roam,
Yet Grace is the light that guides us home.
It’s the hand that lifts us when we fall,
The sweetest voice, a comforting call.
In Grace, forgiveness finds its place,
A healing balm, a warm embrace.
For in our flaws and in our fears,
Grace dries our tears and calms our tears.
It’s the beauty of a sunset’s hue,
A gift of love from me to you.
In Grace’s dance, we all take part,
Uniting every soul and heart.
So let us cherish Grace’s art,
A masterpiece from the very start.
In kindness, love, and blessings too,
Grace shines on all, both me and you.
Copyright©2023 Samuel Olopade
I’m Olopade Samuel, a proud Nigerian volunteer, engineer, and upcoming politician. As far as I recall, my whole life involved humanitarian activities with clubs like the Red Cross, Rotary, and Lions Club. My interests lie in observing nature, human advocacy, and wishful thinking to be a better artist. My life goal is to be that person others look up to, that model person who rises above stereotypes.
Note: We are in the process of moving all our winning poet interviews to the website. Please be sure to bookmark it at yecheilyahsannualpoetrycontest.org/.
Instagram: @thesensualgenius
My name is Shakeitha Graham. I am from Salters, South Carolina.
I first wrote poetry when I had to write a poem as an assignment in my first-grade class. I didn’t know much about poems, but I’d write them occasionally without really understanding what I was doing. I never thought I was good at writing them until I started posting my poems on social media and getting compliments on them. I first fell in love with poetry when I went to college and started learning about it extensively. That was when I was exposed to more black poets like W.E.B Dubois, Nikki Giovanni, Toni Morrison, and James Baldwin.
I used to be a perfectionist, so I would give myself a hard time about everything. I always wanted things to be perfect or I wasn’t able to recognize the value in it. I’ve grown from perfectionism a lot, but I still have my moments when I am hard on myself. It has always been easier for me to extend grace to others than it is for me to do it for myself. That’s what inspired my poem.
Grace is the empathy and compassion we have for ourselves and others even when we fall short. It’s the space we hold for the imperfection within us since we are human.
We can extend more grace in our own lives by recognizing our inner critic as the young version of us that doesn’t approve of the things we may be doing in the present. We should nurture that inner child and help it to understand that we are no longer in that stage of our lives. We can extend more grace to others by being more understanding and not judging them based off our values and principles.
I am hoping to inspire people to feel the hard emotions when they read my poetry. I also hope to make people feel seen, heard, and felt.
One year from now, I see myself being an established poet and performing spoken word poetry on small and big stages.
I offer it to those who pluck sin from between their teeth,
and pass down trauma like family recipes.
I offer it to those whose chests are desolate like coal mines,
but their eyes are brightly lit when love comes with a prize.
I offer it to those who take pain religiously, like daily vitamins,
but still implement hope and faith in their regimens.
I offer it to those who serve destruction as a three-course meal,
and make friends with drugs because they’re too afraid to feel.
I offer it to those who are at odds with life.
They are the ones that need it most
because their intrusive thoughts hold them hostage with a knife.
I offer it to the ones who are addicted to the light,
even though they pull foolish stunts
to remain in the public’s sight.
I offer it to women who wear their burdens
like pearls around their necks.
The ones who hide from their reflections
to dodge the secrets they want to forget.
I offer it to men who are spoon-fed large helpings of responsibilities
but are always thought of last when we are serving reciprocity.
I offer it to children who are forced into adulthood too soon.
Their inner beauty is sometimes stagnant
like butterflies who aren’t ready to leave their cocoon.
I’d offer it to the tired eyes looking back at me in the mirror,
but sometimes my vision is too cloudy to see the value in me clear.
So, I give offerings of grace to those whose sins are severe,
hoping that what I lack rewards its adherer.
Written by S.R. Graham, Copyright©2023
Image Copyright©2023 S.R. Graham
S. R. Graham was born in October 1990 in South Carolina, where she still lives. She has a bachelor’s degree in creative writing and English attained at Southern New Hampshire University. She is a versatile writer, creating anything from poetry to novels and novellas. She is the author of the Two Monogamous series and the Pretty Privilege series. You can visit her website at srgraham.org to learn more about her and find all her works in one place. S. R. Graham is also a podcaster, a cosplayer, an advocate for sickle cell disease, and a sickle cell warrior.
Note: We are in the process of moving all our winning poet interviews to the website. Please be sure to bookmark it at yecheilyahsannualpoetrycontest.org/.
Instagram: @musings.from.my.younger.self
My name is Chandra Tyler Mountain. I am a NOLA (New Orleans, Louisiana) girl living in Northern Alabama.
I’ve been in love with poetry practically my entire life. Poetry first came to me through song. My family has a strong musical heritage, so music reverberated throughout our home, especially Sunday mornings. The crackling of vinyl records followed by music from the 50s, 60s, 70s. Jazz, Blues, R&B, Soul, Funk, Pop, you name it.
I sat, listened, and sang my heart out. Even though music [singing] was my first love, I was keenly aware of the lyrics and how the combination of words, rhythm, and sound created meaning that could also make me feel. I “wrote” my first song at 5, a song with strange lyrics by a kid trying to process something she heard or read. Reading and writing poetry came a little later.
As a preteen, I was moved and inspired by the poetry I found in youth magazines. I began to dabble with writing my own poetry at age 11 or 12. I later borrowed my older siblings’ poetry anthologies and literary journals. I devoured the poetry. Gwendolyn Brooks, Langston Hughes, Mari Evans, Claude McKay. I loved the way poets succinctly expressed a potent moment or feeling in just a few words and could leave me staggering. I wrote profusely as a teen and in my college years. My hubby rediscovered those earlier works five or so years ago, and I self-published two books just last year featuring the writings of my youth, Musings from My Younger Self (April 2023) and Into the Garden (September 2023).
Creative writing slowed down to zero productivity while I worked on my master’s and doctoral degrees and as I focused on research and writing in Africana and women’s literature and theory. I wrote a poem here and there for a couple of decades but returned to [consistently] writing poetry about five years ago–after losing my second sister to cancer and trying to cope and make sense of devastating losses.
“I’m Living” was inspired by a brief conversation with a former student. I knew she had been struggling with her mental health and trying to process emotional traumas. One day she called to thank me for a gift. When I asked, “How are you?” She responded, “I’m living.” There was such candor and weight in her brief response. Most people would either commiserate or move on, but this individual lost a sister to suicide, so I knew “I’m living” was more than just words. When we ended our conversation, I penned the poem to lessen the weight of her grief and trauma on my own heart.
So, the “textbook” answer is grace is “unmerited favor.” I’ll remain in that lane and try to steer clear of the theological nuances. We don’t earn grace. Can’t buy it. Can’t extort it. It’s a gift from God. Grace does not come our way because we are better than or worked harder than or are smarter than anyone else. Why one cancer diagnosis ends in death and another in 50+ more years of life has nothing to do with goodness or pedigree or wealth. A brief glance outside ourselves will reveal there are others who work harder; there are others who, by our flawed human standards, deserve more. There are certainly others who are good good—absolute angels walking on this earth—who have less of our comforts and less of our fortunes but more in intangible ways that matter.
A line in my poem is “life is grace.” We are in the land of the living not because of our merits but because of grace. What stopped the “knife held at my throat” from being plunged deep inside? Only the grace of God. One of life’s greatest mysteries is this thing called grace, and once we acknowledge all our comforts, privileges, fortunes, and gifts are grace, only then will we begin to get a little insight and understanding of grace as a concept and a reality.
Can we just cut ourselves some slack? Can we cut everyone else some slack? It’s become cliché, but can we acknowledge life is hard, and everyone is going through hell? Everyone is grieving. Everyone is trying to heal from unspeakable trauma or suffering in one way or another. Extending more grace is not difficult. Just do it. Exercise more kindness, more patience, more acceptance for ourselves and others.
How do we show more grace in our own lives? Accept ourselves for who we are, where we are in life, and the journey we’re on. Stop comparing. Stop striving for perfection. It’s elusive. We are amazing for just being here and staying in the fight.
How do we extend grace in the lives of others? Acknowledge their humanity and let others be who they are and who they’re becoming. It’s not our job to craft people into our own image. I actually have a poem about that!
Poetry is my space to process big emotions and haunting questions. I listen, observe, feel, and write. I am not writing for a Pulitzer, but I hope my poetry allows people to see themselves, gives them courage to wrestle with the questions, and shows them there is hope even in the darkest moments.
I am a one-day-at-a-time kind of woman. I’m not sure I can think that far in advance. 😀 I have a rich and full personal and professional life (as a professor and dean), but I am writing all the time. I maintain a blog, Pics and Posts (iamchandralynn.com) to take care of my immediate need to write and share. I write every morning and at least 30 minutes per day. As a result, within the last few years, I have drafted [by hand—gasp!] not one or two but five books—poetry, inspirational writing, and a “semi” children’s book.
My goal is to push at least one of them to publication by the end of this year. Two, if time allows. I have a lot of “other” writing, so I plan to submit to more journals and magazines. Thankfully, placing first (squeals!) in Yecheilyah’s 6th Annual Poetry Contest encourages me to put more work out there. Confession: I have used creative writing to avoid work on an academic title, so as much as I don’t want to, I have to put a pin in the creative writing just for a little while to complete that work—which [for me] takes a lot more time, intention, and energy. I’m amazing (right?), so I’ll finish it and get back to creative work!
for those who answer “How are you?” with “I’m living.”
To say “I am living” is to say much.
It is to say:
Life is grace.
Unearned.
Gifted.
It is to say:
I have survived
those who went to the grave
too soon
and the grief that
would surely engulf me.
It is to say:
I have survived
the knives
held at my throat,
clutched by my own hand.
It is to say:
I have clawed my way
out of pits of despair
and have learned to dance
in the rain.
It is to say:
I choose to
keep breathing
keep fighting
keep moving.
In light.
In truth.
In love.
Copyright©2023 Chandra T. Mountain
Chandra Tyler Mountain is a native New Orleanian living in Northern Alabama. She whines when work gets in the way of fun and wakes up in the wee hours to spend time with God, write poetry, short prose, and inspiration. When she is not with her guys (hubby and son), in meetings, or in her sunflower-brightened office, you might find her roaming–camera in hand–shooting beauty and capturing light, or sitting quietly in the shade of a tree doodling flowers. By day, she serves as Dean of the School of Arts and Sciences and Professor of English at her alma mater, Oakwood University. She maintains “Pics and Posts,” a weblog about snail mail, photography, and the beautiful facts of life (iamchandralynn.com). Her recent publications–Musings from My Younger Self (Chandra Lynn Tyler) and Into the Garden—are available through Amazon in ebook, paperback, and hardcover formats.
I realize I’ve been a bit MIA lately. Not just on this blog but on social media in general. I have a lot that requires my full attention, which is professional work and personal work. I am in that transition place where I am learning to be patient with understanding what’s next for me, between that place of gratitude for what is but seeking continual growth.
In any event, I am still here, and I do want to try harder to check in with your blogs. I’ve fallen off in the blog world, and I really need to get back to it.
But I am still here. I am well, and I hope you are well too and continue to be so.
To catch up with me, please check out my latest interview in Shoutout Atlanta.
They reached out to me last month, and I enjoyed working with them for the second time.
Click on the link below to read in full, and be sure to share if you feel so inclined!
Instagram: ncouragetouch
I saw the competition pop up on my IG thread, and the theme of love caught my eye immediately. Being that I am a woman known for always speaking about love and pride myself in how I love people, there was no question on whether I would enter the poetry contest. In addition, I had already written a poem on love and initially submitted that poem because I was not sure if I would have enough time to create a new poem. However, after submitting my first poem, I read how participants could submit two poems and the challenge to us poets to look beyond the normal description of love we often see in poetry. This forced me to visualize all the different perspectives of love.
I love that poetry takes on a life of its own. It can be a song, a narrative, a teacher, a friend, a love letter, a movement, etc. It has its own language to the reader because poetry is personal. It not only speaks to us, but it has the power to move us individually in various ways as if it knows each of us intimately. Does that make sense?
I started writing when I was very young- it was my escape, and writing was my voice. Although I was outgoing and never had a problem with talking, I struggled with my identity (being understood), so my journals were the only place where I could be myself. I loved how words had the ability to say what I wanted to express vocally. In short, when I wrote, I was free to be me, raw and unapologetic.
I have to say exciting! I love to hear how something I wrote transformed or inspired someone, which is mostly the core of my writing. But it is also hard because if you are not an established author, it is hard to get your work out there when you are self-published. I had to decide to enjoy the journey no matter what, but your greatest desire is for your work to be read as an author—the journey itself has also been an adventurous teacher. There have been many doors of opportunities that opened for me that I never imagined. For example, my book has been used as a resource in a business. I also use my book as a resource in my work as an encouragement coach, not to mention the speaking opportunities.
As I mentioned earlier, you challenged me. That challenge forced me to look inwardly beyond the “emotion of love” beyond “conceptualizing love,” and I was able to see love in ways that superseded my surface emotions and mental awareness. Realizing that love has always been present, but we are often unaware of its presence. I can admit, I didn’t recognize or appreciate it when I was younger because I allowed others to define love for me.
So, I wanted to give tribute to that type of love and the givers of such love. When they gave, they gave all they had. So as the memories washed over me, I began to write, and it flowed from my being. I saw faces- my mother, grandmother, neighbors, friends. I saw our ancestors, their scarred backs, and forgotten history. When I finished, there was joy and sadness within my heart, and I was proud and, without a second thought, submitted it. It deserved to be read even if I didn’t win. I wrote this poem quickly as the memories washed over me.
That’s beautiful and I can tell you put a lot of thought behind your poem. It’s deep and relatable. I felt right away how set-apart your poem was from the beginning.
My strength is that I can create a piece quickly. If I am passionate about a topic, the creativity flows. I also love taking chances as a writer, even if I am uncertain if I can write about a particular topic or theme. I put myself out there! I believe it is because I know myself, so I am no longer writing to be affirmed as a writer. I fell in love with my voice, whether written or verbal.
My weakness. Wow, there are two that come to mind. The short one is learning to get out of my head to fully unlock the untapped potential and creativity that I know I have. My second weakness is more of a past weakness, which is fear because it hindered my writing for so long.
I am currently a full-time student, so I only take on small writing projects for people, such as writing personalized poetry pieces or short stories for birthdays, events, or special projects.
I have more books in me, but I am trying to get through these last two years of schooling. I recently, right before school started, for the first time, had the opportunity to work on a script project for a short series, and I can’t wait to see where it goes. There are still more episodes to be written, and I hope I have the time to be on the rest of the project. I will say this, scriptwriting gave me a new desire to write a fictional book and maybe dabble even more into scriptwriting for films.
On my last year of college, celebrating being a writer on the series project I mentioned earlier and seeing it on Netflix or Hulu. My book being not only in other states but other countries and being a best seller. I want to impact more lives through my encouragement, coaching, and writings, and I expect more unexpected opportunities that blow my mind! I am also a huge supporter, so I want to be in a position to help beginner writers in whatever way I can.
Love is distinctively woven into the fabric of our being
experienced through the ordinary each day
a silent wave of an old memory washing over us; a segue to our humanity.
Love is home, love is grandma’s baby
love is survival and hustling;
cleaning toilets, scrubbing floors, changing diapers, washing clothes by hand, and layaway plans.
Love is spiritual; a scared village, the spirit’s libation, broken history, and love is migration love is food stamps, government cheese, grits with sugar, and collard greens
love is the sand between my toes.
Love is the prize at the bottom of the crackerjack box, love is hopscotch, and double-dutch love is afro-puffs, two French braids and your first French kiss
love is overtime, colored easter eggs, Santa Claus tales, and hand-me-downs.
Love is that switch from the tree, love is praying hands and bended knees
love is loud, silent, large, small, and intriguingly complex —Love is Proud
love is scarred backs and stubborn roots —old hymns and sung negro spirituals.
Love is “I told you so”
love is easy like Sunday morning
love is Betty Wright, Marvin Gaye, Smokey Robinson, and Patti LaBelle;
a brilliant collaboration of lyrical hands fighting for the same devotion because love is Soul Train.
Love is rich soil to the soul
love is fearless laughter, getting up at 6am, sleepless nights, untold stories and second chances love is the ancestors’ wisdom —the great orator and the greatest debater.
Love is underestimated, yet chosen
love is fierce; righteously angry, patient, and sacrificial — it is the caged bird singing love is the paint, painter, and work of art.
Love is a savior —the hero’s journey
Love is amazing grace
Love is wealth, life, and death.
Love is not weak; it bows down to no one yet surrenders itself to everyone by its own authority — love is badass. Every time I close my eyes, I witness love.
Love is distinctively woven into the fabric of our being.
experienced through the ordinary each day
© by Tiffany James 2021
Today wraps up our poet spotlight for the 4th Annual Poetry Contest. I want to thank everyone who has participated and supported our poets this year. If you want to help coordinate or sponsor next year’s contest, please reach out to me at yecheilyah@yecheilyahysrayl.com. I love hosting these contests, but I can’t do it without your help.
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