One More Game

(AP Photo/Julio Cortez)

From my eighth-floor window
I could hear hope bounce back and forth
on concrete loitered with crack vials.

Dirt-caked Nikes were like hands
reaching for revolution
in the air.

It didn’t get them out of the projects,
but Jordan would have been proud
the way these boys balled.

It kept their bodies distracted from the hunger
of not eating for three days.
Here, many children raised themselves.
Forced to grow up without grownups.

It’s a strange thing not to have parents
strange the way these kids parented
themselves.

Adults in small bodies
swallowing their pride for one more game.

They might not eat today,
but boy, how they balled.


This was inspired by the real events of growing up in The Robert Taylor Projects as a kid in early 90s Chicago. Head over to my TikTok @yecheilyah to listen to the poem.

Our 6th Annual Poetry Contest is on the Way!

Stay Glued.

Yecheilyah’s Annual Poetry Contest: Closing for Submissions Midnight!

First, my thoughts and prayers go out to all the Florida fam and anyone in the eye of the storm or who has been affected by Hurricane Ian in any way.

https://www.yecheilyahsannualpoetrycontest.org/

Today is the day!!


If you want a shot at winning one of the top four slots for this year’s poetry contest, be sure to email your poem to me at yecheilyah@yecheilyahysrayl.com by midnight tonight.

That’s 12a EST, 11p CST.

The rest of ya, figure out ya time zone, lol.

I know we can get a bit anxious as we wait for the results, so please take the time to review the following:

  • Poetry submissions close at the end of the day on September 30, 2022. I don’t read any poems until after the contest ends, and neither do my fellow judges. Feedback on entries will not be provided until the winners are announced.
  • We will announce the winners on November 1, 2022. I am an advocate for questions. Asking questions is how we learn. However, do not ask if I liked your poem or how I feel about it before the winners are announced on 11/1. 
  • Winners will be notified by email of their win at least one week before the public announcement to prepare them for their promotions. Our first-place winner also wins a personalized frame of their poem that must be customized, so the artist will need these details ahead of time.
  • It is imperative that the email you have on file is active and that it is the one you check often. We will need to pick another winner if we cannot contact you about your win in time. Not only do you not want this, but it also creates more work for us, so please be diligent. Start paying attention close to the end of Oct. Check your spam and junk folders. If we follow each other on IG, check your DM’s. Know I will do everything in my power to contact you, but if I have to call the FBI you’re gonna miss out.
  • If you submitted a poem, you should have received a reply saying your submission has been received. If you did not get this email, please resend it ASAP. 
  • We are giving away cash prizes this year, so when contacted about your win, we will ask you how you’d like to receive your money electronically. The other gifts will be shipped off to you.
  • You will be promoted on my blog, main author newsletter, Twitter, and IG pages @yecheilyah and @yecheilyahbooksllc.  Be sure you are following both (especially @yecheilyah, as it gets the most engagement).

What if I didn’t win?

We are only contacting the four winners. If, on November 1, you do not see your name among the winners, your poem has not been selected. 

I want to take the time to thank each and every one of you for participating in this contest. Putting yourself out there is not easy, and I am humbled that you’ve trusted me with your creative work. Make no mistake about it: without your support, there is no contest, so I am grateful, humbled, and excitedddd to read what you’ve blessed us with.

How Can I Read the Poems of Previous Winners?

You can check out the poems and interviews of previous winners at the links below.

**2020 was skipped per Covid when none of us knew what to do next.**

*FINAL CHECK* The little things can sometimes get away from us so remember: get your poem in BEFORE the deadline. Make sure it is on the topic of FREEDOM in some way. Double check you’ve sent it to the CORRECT email and that you are 18+.

YouTube: New Poem Added! Listen to “Cheap” #Poetry #SpokenWord

This started out as something I wrote for myself. It wasn’t necessarily a poem. But I decided to turn it into something for you as well. I rewrote it in third person instead of first person. Do not be cheap with yourself. Know your worth. Know your value. Be you. Love you.

When Hearts Break

moleskin-notebook-and-coffee-writing

Deafening silence

and the torture

Of stillness

The quiet awe

Of when hearts break

Shattering glass

With no sound

Just pieces of thought matter

And stains of emotions

Smeared

No one will look up

Because pain has no sound

No warning

Except to pen a tear

The silent scribble

Of the scribe

When hearts break

In crowded rooms

No Punctuation

Dear Love,

your voice is the sound of pages

I’ve been waiting to read my entire life

like run on sentences

in a book too perfect to end

tell me

how do you shackle power to punctuation

If I could

I would end this poem with a period

or place a comma in the places I need

to catch my breath

but you

will only rush to the tips of my fingers

you see love

will only leak

from the pores in my skin

like the sounds of many waters

flooding its way from Noah’s Ark

you shelter me

like an infant

carefully encased in its mother’s womb

before language existed

before there was ever a need of capital letters

dear captain

you chose us

before there was a thing called history

sucking at its mother’s breast

we are nurtured by the past

to understand the future

Dear Love,

you are the answer to every question

and the sound of your mercy

is the only thing worth setting my alarm clock to

so I’ve chosen to reverence you this way

with outstretched pieces of paper

and ink pens

and a medley of words

all purposed to form the letters of your name

all destined to sing your praise

with no punctuation

no commas

or periods

or apostrophes

just run on sentences

limitless

like sign language I don’t remember learning in Public School

and while my tongue clings to the roof of my mouth

while my heart waits

I’ll write you poems

in the form of prayers

on the palms of my hands

and I’ll leave them running

like fountains of compassion

overflowing the levees of thought

I’ll leave them open

unedited

unrevised

and grammatically incorrect

so you’ll read me

like you always do

and never forget what my heart looks like

with no punctuation

because all the world has ever needed

was love.

Wait for Me

IMG_20150823_111244

Would you let me ribbon tie my waiting into your lap?
Take me dripping in mistakes like I got flaws for fragrance
Can you wait for me to get it right?
This belly
filled to the brim with passion
like I got fire clenched in my fists and a furnace in my throat
As if you’d just emerged from the safety of your mother’s womb
would you wait for me
to breathe life into your lungs
to breathe logic into your conscience?
Let kindness touch you gentle,
soft like pillow talk
or whispering prayers in a bowl of incense
Touch me endurance
and I’ll dip my hands into purpose
and feed you hope through a straw
So let the storms begin
let the winds blow
and the nations rage
let the heavens chop off pieces of ice for our tribulation
let hailstones come bungee jumping from the sky to put dents in our joy
and I promise you
if you wait for me
I’ll command my words to stitch you a smile
and in time
we will simmer tragedy
into the polished pillars
of diamonds in the ruff.

Wait for me.

Erased

I dreamed in my mind

that the Earth seemed to never move

and the ships that sailed on it were slow and quite

they never sounded their horns

or went “Chu! Chu!”

the wind never blew

the stars never popped out of the sky

like silk sheets

and the thunder

never growled its teeth

the fish sat silent

still

alone

even they refused to move

just waited

until the land came home

all of it

everything was gone

the people were like zombies in every town

they went about their daily routines

but from sun up

to sun down

no one

made a sound

it was deception they decided to take it

either that or I’m lost in the matrix

surrounded by people that when they opened their mouths

it seemed they faked it

they would walk right through me

and then walk into the streets

as if with their eyes they could not see

I dreamed the worst dream

no more sun beaming down

no more dirt covering this hallow ground

instead I feel as though I am among graves

people who walk around as if with no brains

but as I stop

and I’m staring a dead man in his face

I realize that these people

have been spiritually

erased.