Tag: pbs

Guest Feature – To My Momma

“Who thinks her money talks louder than her womanhood” ….whew, this line!

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To my momma,
Who has swallowed the amerikan dream
And chocked on it
To my momma,
Whose dreams have fought each other—
And died.
Who sees,
But cannot bear to see.
A volcano eating its own lava.
To my momma, who couldn’t turn
Hell into paradise
And blamed herself.
Who has always seen
Reflected in her mirror
An ugly duckling.
To my momma,
Who makes no demands of anyone
Cause she don’t think she can afford to.
Who thinks her money talks
Louder than her womanhood.
To my butchfem momma,
Who has always
Taken care of business
Who has schemed so much
She sometimes schemes against herself.
To my sweet, shy momma.
Who is uneasy with people
Cause she don’t know how
to be phony
And is afraid to be real
Who has longed for sculptured gardens
Whose potted plant
Dies slowly on the window sill
We have all been infected
With sickness
That can be traced back
To the auction block

To My Momma by Assata Shakur

 

Writer’s Quote Wednesday – Appreciation

Welcome back to another episode of Writer’s Quote Wednesday, hosted by Silver Threading. Today’s Quote is from Epicurus:

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“Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not…”

There is nothing more arrogant than not accepting or appreciating what we have in the moment in which we have it. In a world of instant gratification we are always looking for the next big thing. Even the small things. Did you pay your rent or mortgage this month? Good, enjoy your home. Why worry about next month when that moment has not yet arrived? And who said you will live to see it? At one point you could only dream of owning a home or renting one this beautiful, don’t ruin it by desiring something that is not yet in your reach, or in your time to possess.

People and situations, no matter how exciting or distraught, come into our lives for a reason. Everyone you meet and everything you encounter has something to teach you. Sometimes we forget to take things as they are. An ugly situation must be accepted for what it is before we can properly act on it, and to navigate that situation. An ugly person even has to be accepted for who they are, for in the twisted way of things, even they have something to teach us.

About the Author:

Epicurus_bust2Today’s quote is a new one for me because I don’t really get into the whole philosophy thing. But Epicurus was an ancient Greek philosopher as well as the founder of the school of philosophy called Epicureanism. Only a few fragments and letters of Epicurus’s 300 written works remain. I chose this quote not for its author but for the quote itself. I don’t know much about Epicurus nor am I a fan of his but that fact became, unintentionally, symbolic in and of itself. For example: According to Wikipedia:

Epicurus is a key figure in the development of science and scientific methodology because of his insistence that nothing should be believed, except that which was tested through direct observation and logical deduction.”

While I absolutely disagree, I was still able to learn something from the quote itself and apply it to my personal walk in a way that is relevant to me without sacrificing my understanding or being redirected.

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Thanks for joining us for another episode of Writer’s Quote Wednesday! Be sure to run on over to Silver Threading to see what the fun is all about.

http://silverthreading.com/2015/03/18/writers-quote-wednesdayoscar-wilde/

Let’s Talk Womanhood…3.31.15

What is Womanhood? The question hangs over the head of our daughters with anxious anticipation. The youthful mind dividing itself into sections of experience: first date, first love, marriage, and children. We split ourselves into portions and gamble off pieces that do not fit. We grow old and still we find this question lingering against the frontal lobe of our minds, and occupying the mental space of our thoughts. “What is Womanhood?” It is a question we believe can be answered inside the quite deception tugging away at the purchase of cigarettes, the buying of liquor, the entering of the club scene or the mixing of our flesh with another’s. What does it mean to truly become a woman?

It has never been so exciting to ponder these questions in a time such as now. In just two weeks, together we’ll get to experience the questions themselves, and like short poems that tease our taste buds with instant melody, how delicious is the involvement.

This is not just a collection of poetry, but of inspirational quotes, and raw experience. It is the story of her.

Her Love. Her Man. Her Children. Her Womanhood.

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Copyright ©2015.Yecheilyah

Available 3.31.15.
theliterarykorner.com

Blogger Conferences?

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This may already exist, making this post completely irrelevant in which case you could be doing something more valuable with your time. Though I do hope you’re sacrificing a minute or two to hear this amazing idea of mine that probably already exist. 🙂

What if someone could organize a Bloggers Conference? I know there are a lot of them, but this is not just any conference. Not just a community of writers sitting around tables listening to boring PowerPoint presentations from “professionals” that cost you rent money to attend, I’m talking about a fun meet-up of the bloggers you interact with daily. A stream of writing activities, individual business workshops for you to sell your material, and exciting activities against the backdrop of a relaxed atmosphere. A place where bloggers, who may not be writers in the organized sense, can come together and meet face to face. And to top it all off this is an event that is funded & supported by….you guessed it: Bloggers. We can set a date (preferably in the summer) and vote on a central location that could better assist our goals for this event. We can set up committees to assist with food, funding, transportation, activities, & promotion. A conference like this can even give us the opportunity to have an Award ceremony in which we are able to give each other tangible awards. Depending on its success, this can be something for bloggers to repeat once a year and be less expensive to attend.

 

The Twins Had a Brother

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dem twins lived around the corner
boys
chocolate
tall and smooth skinned like
dem twins
didn’t know they had a brother tho
till word got round bout the mind he left on his mother’s front porch
that ain’t a metaphor
his brains divided itself between the concrete and front porch of his mother’s front yard
I heard the dice did it
the way it be running across the concrete
acted like it didn’t know better
than to come walking out the palms of hands
like it didn’t smell the misery of struggle between the cracks
like it ain’t hear the whispering of people on top the rocks
feel the oppression slipping outta the hands of wanna be gangsta’s
why it ain’t just stop before turning up numbers
maybe dem twins woulda still had a brotha
it was a block of them that seen it
almost as normal as a street fight
the way lives don’t matter in the hood
all because of dice
and dollar bills
ain’t know dollars were so expensive
till it expended ole boys life
I wonder if he rolled a seven or eleven
Wonder what he ate for dinner last
Or how that dolla ended up in his pocket
Or if the dolla knew what was coming
But anyway it was a block of them who seen it
some got carried off to hide outs from ole boy
and some was taken out of school
I wanted to go too
go away from the stench of prophecy behind my house
away from the Isaiah’s and Deuteronomy’s leaning against they mama’s voice
making it sound all crazy like
and dem Leviticus’s standing on the corner
akin like the ground wasn’t still warm from ole boys blood
just around the corner from my house
when I found out
that the twins had a brotha

Welcome

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I picked up your scent going out the door this morning. I should have known that the impulse of a summer dress, short sleeved and cool, and the sliding of my foot into sneakers meant you were not far away. Instead, I would let my sweater drape over my arm and sniff the moisture you left hanging in the air. It wasn’t very bright out, but budding flowers and children laughing was enough. Did not need to see the sun lean its body dramatically over the clouds to feel the heat of spring on my skin. Bright colored birds sang a joyful tune on into the sky, and the curtains moved against the window sill just as seductively as the tree branches swayed leaves to and fro. And as my husband presents me with a pot of African violet, with petals all soft and blooming, and my neighbors resurrect house chairs for a spot on the porch, I know that spring has arrived. Welcome.