Tag: poems

When the World Loves You

I hate to have to be the one to tell you this

after all, you woke up today optimistic

and here I am

feeding you words that I know you do not want to hear

but I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I didn’t tell you the truth

about how the world loves you.

The world will love you

only after the soil hugs your flesh

when the breath leaves your body for that place it will now call home

the world will bring you home

on the backs of T-Shirts

and tattoos that kiss cuzo’s flesh

in a frame on grandmother’s wall

and in museums

popularize your name in a post

speak to you in a language that you will never understand

and in a voice that you will never hear

the world will love you

later

after the fact

like they did messiah

on their living room walls

force a crown of thorns around your head

sacrifice your body to social media

hang you

on their Facebook walls

hashtag your legacy

in cyberspace

they will celebrate you

like they never even did at birth

I warn you

they will throw you parties

bigger than anything your eyes could behold

hold you

in their memories like a nightmare

from which they cannot awake

you will haunt them

and they will love it

the world will love you in caskets

and in prayers

tell you secrets in the grave

they will confide in you

like a man to a woman’s hips

when the world loves you back

it is in flowers

and candlelight vigils

it is in marches, street corners, and pictures

the world will love you in laughter

and in memorials

in memory and regret

and I apologize that I have to be the one to tell you this

after all, you woke up today optimistic

but I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I didn’t tell you the truth

about how the world loves you

only in death.

This poem is inspired by “When the Hood Loves You Back” by Steven Willis. You can watch the video to my poem below. Don’t forget to subscribe to the channel for notifications of more poems.

The Journey Begins

Be sure to Follow Tehilayah’s new blog! Tehilayah is an inspiring author and poet working on her first book. She is also a contributor to my 2nd Annual Poetry contest!

Tehilayah's avatarNo Line Left Behind

Thanks for joining me.

Like any journey there are uncertainties. But how would we know what the journey holds if we do not at least try to experience it. Introductions are always awkward and sometimes uneasy so we will just jump into it.

My name is Tehilayah (pronounced, Te-hil -la -yah). Simple right? My name means, “Song of Praise to Yah”. Can you believe that I like singing. Yes, I sing everything. I make everything a song. For example, I sang instructions to my children to get ready for bed. Yes, there was a whole song. I personally thought it was cool but the look on my children’s faces said otherwise. It’s the side of me that’s goofy and carefree. I am a wife to an amazing and supportive man who pushes me to step out my comfort zones. Sometimes I can be a bit stubborn but I…

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New poems have been added people! Listen to Her Bended Knee, Truth, I Was Not There and more!

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Her Bended Knee

Once a mother

always is

they bend their knees

to raise our kids

they laugh for our broken

as if never have cried, for our burden they soothe

as if our souls had died

they coddle our demons on the top of their heads

—colored gray with grief

fake smiles

and gritted teeth

a generation held together

by tiny pieces of silver string

those grayish-white pieces of hair

prophesy of her bended knees

their bodies ache

due our trials and needs

our depression states

our miscarried dreams

all have a home on the top of mother’s head

our souls they touch

our bull they fed

can’t wash the stench

of our almost dead

but they straighten their backs

and lift their chin

throw on their head

our hopes and sins

and at night

when we run the streets

and sleep in sheets

they bend their knee

and cry to sleep

and then wake up

all smiles and grace

let us never see tears run down their face

instead, see your life on your mother’s head

the next time you see those

grayish-whites

just know that someone prays for you at night

no tears be seen

all frowns be gone

just bended knees

and prayer songs

Mother to Son | Langston Hughes

Well, son, I’ll tell you:
Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor—
Bare.
But all the time
I’se been a-climbin’ on,
And reachin’ landin’s,
And turnin’ corners,
And sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where there ain’t been no light.
So boy, don’t you turn back.
Don’t you set down on the steps
’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.
Don’t you fall now—
For I’se still goin’, honey,
I’se still climbin’,
And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
– Langston Hughes

Present | Sonia Sanchez

This woman vomiting her
hunger over the world
this melancholy woman forgotten
before memory came
this yellow movement bursting forth like
coltrane’s melodies all mouth
buttocks moving like palm tress,
this honeycoatedalabamianwoman
raining rhythm to blue/black/smiles
this yellow woman carrying beneath her breasts
pleasures without tongues
this woman whose body waves
desert patterns,
this woman wet with wandering,
reviving the beauty of forests and winds
is telling you secrets
gather up your odors and listen
as she sings the mold from memory.

there is no place
for a soft / black / woman.
there is no smile green enough or
summertime words warm enough to allow my growth.
and in my head
i see my history
standing like a shy child
and i chant lullabies
as i ride my past on horseback
tasting the thirst of yesterday tribes
hearing the ancient/black/woman
me, singing hay-hay-hay-hay-ya-ya-ya.
hay-hay-hay-hay-ya-y a-ya.
like a slow scent
beneath the sun
and i dance my
creation and my grandmothers gathering
from my bones like great wooden birds
spread their wings
while their long/legged/laughter
stretched the night.
and i taste the
seasons of my birth. mangoes. papayas.
drink my woman/coconut/milks
stalk the ancient grandfathers
sipping on proud afternoons
walk like a song round my waist
tremble like a new/born/child troubles
with new breaths
and my singing
becomes the only sound of a
blue/black/magical/woman. walking.
womb ripe. walking. loud with mornings. walking.
making pilgrimage to herself. walking.

– Sonia Sanchez

Alone | Maya Angelou

Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don’t believe I’m wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.There are some millionaires
With money they can’t use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They’ve got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Now if you listen closely
I’ll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
‘Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.

– Maya Angelou