Book Review: The Poetry Edition

I won't even tell you how many books I have in my to be read pile. Nor will I tell you that I just got more books from the library & purchased 2 others from Barnes & Nobles. We don't have to discuss that. I spent Saturday afternoon diving head first into a few of them. I discovered nayyriah waheed and her poetry via her Tumblr last year. I was instantly a fan of  her work. She writes from a place I know dearly. I followed her after reading only 3 pieces. I was delighted when she followed me back. We interacted once or twice. But, I was just happy to have her words on my dash daily. I was elated when she announced that she was putting out her first book.

Waheed's first book is "salt." I devoured this book in less than two hours. I loved everything about it. I bookmarked and highlighted more than 50% of the book. These are the pieces I knew from her Tumblr. I loved the story her pieces told. She writes of love and loss in a way that my heart understands. I love her tone and the affliction her breaks/pauses give to her work. This is my favorite of the two books. My love for "salt" is epic. I wanted to share a few of my favorite pieces. I placed them below. Enjoy. 

i am always writing.

of you.

for you. 

___________________

stay is a sensitiveword.we wear who stayedand who leftin our skin forever.                     - sojourn__________________

you blush like an ocean in lovewild with blueness.                - yemanja__________________ 

there is peaceful. there is wild. i am both at the same time.                 - sum__________________ 

Her second book is "nejma." From the cover alone, I could tell that the books would be decidedly different. I was write. It took me longer to get through this book. I wasn't as in to it as I was the former. There are some pieces that jumped out at me. They described my situation perfectly. I always find it amazing that there is another writer living somewhere near or far that can tap into my situation and explain what I cannot. I love writers like that. Both of her books are available via Amazon. Last time I checked they were $0.99 for the Kindle. Do yourself a favor and pick them both up. You will not regret it. Below are my favorite pieces from "nejma." Read and get into them. 

grieve. so that you can be free

to feel something else. 

______________________

can you feel my prayers.

there and.

there and.

there.

                 - pilgrimage

______________________

there is prayer in poem.

when i am writing

i am praying.

all the prayers that are too soft.

too young.

too old.

to say.

______________________

i am trying to remember you

and 

let you go

at

the same time.

               - the mourn

_____________________

My Poetry Corner XI: "We Agree" & "All I Am"

My heart refuses to listen to my head
My heart wants the same thing it has for years
It wants you
Your voice, your laughter, your smile
It craves even the way you used to say my name

My heart is stupid
and foolish
because it desires who hurt it
longs for the person who broke it
My heart does not make sense

My head knows better 
It speaks reality to my unwavering heart
It recalls the words that hurt
that broke us 
that you said

My head remembers everything
and forgets nothing
when it comes to loving you
My head relives those last moments often
And it kills me

My head and my heart don't or
can't see eye to eye
loving you was a gift 
losing you felt like a death
That's the only thing that they can agree on.

********************************************

"All I Am"

Being friends with someone 
you’re still in love with is a farce. 
It’s not possible. 
I don’t want to be just your friend.
Not when I know the way my name sounds coming from your mouth dripping in love. 
I could never accept to hear my name said any other way. 
I never wanted half of you 
And that’s what being your friend means 
It means suppressing the love I feel every time I hear your voice
I couldn’t fake it anymore
I had to love me more
Had to walk away from the deepest love I’ve ever know
And now everything I write is about you or for you
In some way or another
It’s the saddest thing 
Loving you from here
Alone
I couldn’t deal
So I had to do what you couldn’t 
Leave when love wasn’t on the table
You offered friendship as a consolation prize
And, I couldn’t accept those terms and conditions 
I’m an all or nothing type of girl
You used to know that. 
So now we’re nothing
No one
And love is what we used to have
All I am is sad.

Just Because I Felt Like It: Little Black Girls, Big Names

Poetry will always have a special place in my heart and life. I fell in love with spoken word during high school. I loved performing while in college. I can honestly say that I've fell out of love with the spoken word movement in recent years. Everyone speaks the same, talks about the same topics. It's become very gimmicky and I was not here for it. But, like everything else I love, it's become relevant again to me. I've found myself very intrigued by the Slam poetry competitions featuring young adults. This was posted in one of my Facebook groups. It touched a place deep within me. This little Black girl at heart has been smiling since I watched this. Get into this piece. It's entitled "To All The Little Black Girls With Big Names" by Sha'Condria, a fellow New Orleans native. Oh and I love the backdrop of her video. My city looking fabulous. 

The Father Files: Part III "Presence & Absence"

So, I am up wrestling with insomnia. Again. Which is the norm these days. Browsing Tumblr and I read something that literally makes my heart stop. The above poem did it. I could not breathe. Thise few words had a deep impact on me. My father is a topic I've explored before here and here. I've also thought of myself as a woman who wasn't that deeply affected by my Father's absence in my life. He was never truly absent in the fact that I always knew where he was and how to contact him. He just wasn't a constant daily figure in my life. I never wondered who my Father was. My parents married before I was born. I carry his last name. He just was not a hands on Father. He never came to my school plays or saw me perform with the Pep Squad or any of the debates for the Speech and Debate Club. He probably could only name one of my ex boyfriends. He didn't know that I hated pink as a teen. The little things that my Mom could rattle off in her sleep, he did not know.

But, it is quite possible that his presence would have been as damaging as his absence. Either way, I was slighted. His absence may be the reason that I'm not married or that I don't have my own family. His spotty presence and often absence affects me to this day. I am guarded in ways I shouldn't be. In the back of my mind, I am always afraid that if I let someone get close to me that they will leave. This is a middle of the night, self actualization moment. My Father decided to be a visitor in my life. I have had to work out some issues because of it. I wish I could've had one last heart to heart with him. Just so he could know how much little girls need their Dads. I became tough because of it. I used my sarcastic wit and intelligence as a shield to hide from the absence of him. I know that I've grown since then. Even now, I feel the remnants of who I used to be. She still has an affect on who I'm becoming. In closing, I'd just like to say that fathers matter. Their presence or absence will always cast a wide shadow. This is just food for thought.

Keep Ya Head Up

Tupac Amaru Shakur. September 13, 1996. I will always remember that day. He was a rapper that I have been a fan of since the first time I heard his voice. He was a person who intrigued me. I cannot believe it's been 15 years (yesterday) since Tupac died. This is one of my favorite pieces by Nikki Giovanni. She dedicated it to Tupac.

Nikki Giovanni “All Eyez On U” (2Pac dedication)


As I tossed and turned
unable to achieve sleep
unable to control anxiety
unable to comprehend why
2Pac is not with us

If those who lived by the sword died by the sword
there would be no white men on earth
If those who lived on hatred died on hatred there would be no KKK
If those who lived by lies died by lies
there would be nobody on wall street in executive suites
In academic offices instructing the young
Don’t tell me he got what he deserved
He deserved a chariot and the accolades of a grateful people
He deserved his life
It is as clear as a mountain stream, as defining as a lightning strike
as terrifying as sun to vampires
2Pac told the truth

There were those who called it dirty
Gansta rap inciting
There were those who never wanted to be angry at the conditions
but angry at the messenger who reported:
Your kitchen has roaches, your toilet is overflowing
your basement has so much water the rats are in the living room
Your house is in disorder
and 2Pac told you about it

What a beautiful boy
Graceful carriage, melodic voice, sharp wit
intellectual breath….what a beautiful boy to lose
Not me….never me….I do not believe east coast west coast
I saw them murder Emmett Till
I saw them murder Malcolm X
I saw them murder Martin Luther King
I witnessed them shooting Rap Brown
I saw them beat LeRoi Jones
I saw them fill their jails
I see them burning churches
Not me….never me….
I do not believe this is some sort of mouth action
This is some sort of political action and they picked well
They picked the brightest freshest fruit from the tallest tree
What a beautiful boy…..but he will not go away
as Malcolm did not go away
as Emmett Till did not go away
Your shooting him will not take him from us
His spirit will fill our hearts
His courage will strengthen us for the challenge
His truth will straighten our backbones you know?
Socrates had a mother
She too watched her son drink hemlock
She too asked why
but Socrates stood firm and would not lie to save himself
2Pac has a mother
The lovely Afeni had to bury her son
It is not right
It is not right this young warrior is cut down
It is not right for the old to bury the young
It is not right
This generation mourns 2Pac
as my generation mourned Till
as we all mourn Malcolm
This wonderful young warrior

Sonia Sanchez said when she learned of his passing she walked all day
walking the beautiful warrior home to our ancestors
I just cried as all mothers cry for the beautiful boy who said
he and Mike Tyson would never be allowed
to be free at the same time
Who told the truth about them and who told the truth about us
Who is our beautiful warrior

There are those who wanted to make him the problem
who wanted to believe if they silenced 2Pac
all would be quiet on the ghetto front
There are those who testified that the problem wasn’t the conditions
but the people talking about them
They took away band, so the boys started scratching
They took away gym, so the boys started break dancing
The boys started rapping cause they gave them the guns
and the drugs but not the schools and libraries

What a beautiful boy to lose
and we mourn 2Pac Shakur and we reach out to his mother
and we hug ourselves in sadness and shame
and we are compelled to ask:
R U Happy, Mz Tucker?
2Pac is gone
R U Happy?“

My 2nd Favorite Poem

"kidnap poem"
by Nikki Giovanni


ever been kidnapped
by a poet

if i were a poet
i'd kidnap you
put you in my phrases and meter
you to jones beach

or maybe coney island
or maybe just to my house
lyric you in lilacs
dash you in the rain

blend into the beach
to complement my see
play the lyre for you
ode you with my love song
anything to win you

wrap you in the red Black green
show you off to mama
yeah if i were a poet
i'd kidnap you

My Favorite Poem

"Woman" Nikki Giovanni

she wanted to be a blade
of grass amid the fields
but he wouldn't agree
to be the dandelion

she wanted to be a robin singing
through the leaves
but he refused to be
her tree

she spun herself into a web
and looking for a place to rest
turned to him
but he stood straight
declining to be her corner

she tried to be a book
but he wouldn't read

she turned herself into a bulb
but he wouldn't let her grow

she decided to become
a woman
and though he still refused
to be a man
she decided it was all
right

Traces of My Lipstick

I've been thinking alot about kisses. I'm not sure why but this has been the theme of my not so random thoughts for a few days now. Especially first kisses. The anticipation, the initial feeling of his lips pressed against mine, the butterflies in my tummy, that undeniable spark. Kissing is just about the best thing. There is nothing better than leaving the traces of one's lipstick on the cheek and mouth of the one you love. Kisses are a woman's signature.

"When you kiss me, without uttering a word,
you speak to my soul." ~ Unknown

"For twas not into my ear you whispered
But into my heart
Twas not my lips you kissed
But my soul." ~ Judy Garland

"Kiss: The anatomical juxtaposition
of two orbicularis oris muscles in
a state of contraction." ~ Henry Gibbons