Yecheilyah’s 2nd Annual Poetry Contest 2018: Coming this Summer!!

It’s that time of the year again!

April is National Poetry Month and I am gearing up to host my 2nd Annual Poetry Contest this summer! This year we have stepped it up BIG time with some AMAZING prizes! Be sure you’re following this blog, my IG, and my Facebook business page to stay updated. Details on how to enter, rules and guidelines will be published to this blog next month (May). Next week, I’ll be introducing our sponsors and judges.

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“Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe and find ashes.” – Annie Dillard

“When you get, give. When you learn, teach.” – Maya Angelou

All or Nothing

Photo by Oliver Thomas Klein on Unsplash.

I don’t know how to feel half-heartedly
how to passion
sparsely
how to love raindrops at a time.
I don’t know how to half
shine.
So I apologize.
I am sorry if my sun
burned your skin.
If I came in too hot
or if I am sometimes too cold
a forest of ice
and long blades of frozen grass
bowing under the weight
of bitter winds.
A breath of vapor
purple lips
and chattering teeth.
I promise you that this heart of stone
is really just flesh
learning to beat one pulse at a time
just don’t ask me to half
shine.
I don’t know how to feel half-heartedly
I cannot promise not to love you
dangerously
for I am all
or nothing.

 

I Was Not There

I do not entirely agree

with the actions of my ancestors

cannot say with a straight face that I would have stood there

In the crossfire of oppression, falling

while being bit by dogs

smiling

while being spit on

not with a straight face will I say

that I would have been there

to ask my oppressors their permission

to walk down the street

but I was not there

and me not being there leads me to do nothing

but honor their legacy in humility

I do not know the taste of their humiliation

as closely as they experienced it

my young palate is a prejudiced mixture

of what I’ve seen in footage and read in books

I did not feel the lash

or salt in-between their wounds

know nothing of the seasoning

of stripped identity

of throats closing in on tongues

I know only of gentle waters

the kind that bathes, and cooks and quenches the thirst

I know nothing of the kind that pierces

the skin on contact

I do not know because I was not there

but I can write

like Baldwin did

as a witness

I can write the stories

and un-fairy tale the tragedy

of being colored

to make alive again

a history left virtually unknown

because I was not there

not when Moses died or Malcolm slain

but I can write

articulating the suffering

of the now silent

 

Copyright©2017 by Yecheilyah Ysrayl. All rights reserved.


Yecheilyah (e-see-lee-yah) is an Author, Blogger, and Poet of nine published works including her soon-to-be released short inspirational guide “Keep Yourself Full.” Learn more by exploring Yecheilyah’s writing on this blog and her website at yecheilyahysrayl.com. Renaissance: The Nora White Story (Book One) is her latest novel and is available now on Amazon.com.

New Beginnings

What happens when the words

are carried on the backs of angels

and thread themselves like strings from your heart

to the edge of your fingertips

like consciousness translated into poetry

a spiritual essence poured out only to be confined

and restricted to the page that binds them

what happens when newness fills you to the brim

forcing you to walk into new beginnings

that this flesh has yet to verbalize properly

I have not the answers to these questions

not yet

just inklings of miracles

from black colored ink

and fire coated passion

on white paper.

The Right Poem

When the right poem is born it is all feeling. Taste and touch and nourishment. All heart and aching and lifting. Poetry is a revolution with a profound sense of strength. When the right poem arrives I notice it instantly. It is all moving like earthquakes so powerful that it breaks down mental barriers and knocks ignorance off Richer Scales. The right poem is not merely the ability to paint pictures with words. The right poem is a full manifestation of the heart. A complete contextualizing of the soul. The right poem is my entire body into words. Every piece of flesh, every tingling nerve. A spiritual essence poured out on the page.

Truth

Truth is not debatable

for integrity defends itself

it is not held captive to the dogma of religion

or held bondage within the framework of theology

it is not trapped inside the walls of College classrooms,

or oppressed by the lips of Baptist ministers,

It wears no stars of David

Sings no Islamic melodies

Truth is not religious

And yet is no atheist

Truth has always been

And always will be

It is neither canonized

nor done away with

not stolen away

or traded amidst the bowels of slave ships

truth is not lynched,

nor shackled against the cages of fear

it refuses to shake hands with deception,

and will never embrace the arms of uncertainty

because truth is always certain

It is sure to be like nothing you can ever imagine

but be everything you’ve ever hoped for

Truth is limitless

And humble

Needs no acknowledgement

And yet wears a crown

Truth needs no confirmations

and yet rules

wears no flowing garments

Is lowly

and yet royal

accepted by the faithful

and resisted by those who are afraid.