Tag: redemption

Yecheilyah’s Book Reviews – Black Coffee by Bree Gordon

Title: Black Coffee: From Empty to Overflowing with Peace, Healing, and Purpose

Author: Bree Gordon

Publisher: ‎ Bree Gordon

Published: February 18, 2020

Pages: 122

Bree Gordon begins her book with frank sincerity and unabashed vulnerability. We learn about her trials and tribulations as her marriage unraveled and her mental health suffered. Gordon utilizes her therapy sessions as the basis for telling the stories of the women who made a difference in her life, and the revelation about who these women are will leave you speechless.

In this book, we meet not just Bree but also Linda, Gia, Reena, and Trina. It’s got that How Stella Got Her Groove Back and Waiting to Exhale vibe.

This book’s layout and packaging are both excellent. Gordon welcomes us with a stunning cover of her enjoying a cup of coffee and then weaves this motif across her chapters. From “Brewing” to “Spilling the Beans,” I like how imaginatively she titled the chapters to enhance the story. It brought the narrative and the title together well.

What truly sets this book apart is the inclusion of therapist notes. It will surely help other women who have had to walk in Gordon’s shoes.

Ratings:

  • Authenticity / Believable: 5/5
  • Organization: 5/5
  • Thought Provoking: 5/5
  • Solid Conclusion: 4/5
  • Overall Rating: 5 / 5 stars

Grab Your Copy of Black Coffee Here

bree

https://www.breejgordon.com/

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*Books are read in the order they are received.

 

The Black Plague

Steppers Delight Giclee On Canvas by John Holyfield

They treated them like The Black Plague.

This walking pestilence ravaging the Earth.

Walking all proud-like and powerful

all royalty-like and purposeful

infecting generations of people with its culture, music, dance, and cornrolls.

This was a virus that needed to be controlled.

They could not have this thing infecting people with all this hope.

COVID-19 is terrifying, but empowering the people was worse

so, the powers that be raised their glasses, smiled and solidified the oath.

 

The first phase was overt

strip them of their names, rape their wives, and remove their clothes.

Next, shackle them together and dismantle their dignity.

The vaccination was so far working.

They became Mammies instead of Mothers

and Negroes instead of Kings.

 

But the Black Plague continued to spread

continued to influence

and shift the direction of the Earth

there was no restraining the wind

out of its affliction grew the epidemic

of black excellence

building communities, gaining wealth, and reestablishing identity.

The so-called powers had to take their power back

and so, they infected their neighborhoods with crack.

Mass incarcerate them

“Jump Jim Crow” them

redline them

school-to-prison pipeline them

hide their history

hide their truth

miseducate them and kill the youth.

Put your knees on their necks

and stick your knives in their backs.

But none of it worked.

 

It was a secret deeper than White Supremacy

more in-depth than the witchcraft of stolen identity

deeper than unarmed black men bleeding in the streets

more frightening than charred bodies hanging from trees

more detailed than this apparent sickness was the truth

these people they called plagues were not plagues at all

they were Prophets

and healers of the Earth.

 

It was no wonder the more they were afflicted,

the more they grew.

The Colors of Poetry

Photo by Craven Bing Jr. on Unsplash

dip me in chocolate-covered rhyme
like the color of my skin
a young woman once drowning now lives on the shores of truth
sweating similes from her pores
a fresh coat of passion that shines something like melanin
can I scorch you with radiance?
breathing inspiration like oxygen
singing compassion, smoking lyric
and sipping on rhythm slow like the stride of a black man
the crackling compasses beneath his footsteps
clutching couplets like purses confused
by the uncertainty of his smile
the sugarcoated twinkle in their eyes
or the question mark in her walk
her hips sway
like six children, no man, and give up
but I got this mouth full of simile
this fist full of irony
this metaphor-shaped voice in my throat
a delicate coating of poetry to wash away the broken
so let me cocoa butter your heart into the palms of my hands
be Vaseline to your ashy and together
we’ll bind the broken wings of peanut butter,
and vanilla
and milky way,
and dark-covered freedoms
like the colors of poetry
on my skin.

Guest Feature – Exerpt from Ntozake Shange

for-colored-girls-cover
For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When The Rainbow is Enuf Copyright © 1975, 1976, 1977 by Ntozake Shange

i can’t hear anythin

but maddening screams

& the soft strains of death

& you promised me

you promised me…

somebody/anybody

sing a black girl’s song

bring her out to know herself

to know you

but sing her rhythms

carin/struggle/hard times

sing her song of life

she’s been dead so long

closed in silence so long

she doesn’t know the sound

of her own voice

her infinite beauty

she’s half-notes scattered

without rhythm/no tune

sing her sighs

sing the song of her possibilities

sing a righteous gospel

let her be born

let her be born

and handled warmly.