I claim June for mine ; a little Island at heart through the heat it brings. June 1985 I was held in the arms of a mother June was then my claimed place. June 2008 I was held In the arms of a man I owned June for sure. June makes me smile for the…… Continue reading Sun kissed!
Fancy pain I call it; assembled with might to not break even if it hurts. Bruised petal it is; still standing as it dies. Broken wings; of a bird that still tries to fly. Steady stream; of a rolling River about to burst through rocks. A crack; in a glass about to shatter at the…… Continue reading Bottled tears
Age… takes us places leaving marks here and there Just like time bearing lessons we must learn like foolishness to wisdom fear to courage head down to head up talking to listening hasting to slowing down. In due seasons, Age they say teaches us more beyond the appearance Patience; a virtue we hardly understand at…… Continue reading Age
We meet, once again your eyes “meet” my hair first I offer a hug yap I am that gal But then… you close in only to touch my hair yet again! you feel it you ask a million questions I repeat what I said the other day My hair just like yours has a texture…… Continue reading hair.
I loved wearing it; It was my favorite my market day wear my Sunday best Perhaps my daily pick. My memories; the good and bad were wrapped up in my tiered skirt. I called it Chaka Chaka; my Chaka Chaka after my favorite African song bird my Yvonne; Yvonne Chaka Chaka. I knew that I…… Continue reading Tiered Skirt
Mama, Mama, mama, mama Didn’t you hear me cry? Didn’t you hear me call? Calling for you in that nightmare; That left me weak That left me bruised That shattered me That had me hurting That left me scarred Mama, Why? Why did you? Why did you let go; Let go of this child? Mama,…… Continue reading Mama?
Perhaps you have read snippets of me here and there on this blog and wondered why the many poems geared towards abuse. Well, I have lived through many seasons of pain and among them was childhood abuse. It left me broken and honestly saying I was a moving zombie would give you a crystal clear…… Continue reading Abuse recovery
Dear sister, Yes I call you my sister because I have lived this season, this day, and this moment. Almost 9 years ago, I was that motherless bride. So I completely get it. I will say it hurt, and it hurt to the core of my heart. It was lonely as I sat still wishing…… Continue reading To the Motherless Bride.
Today I wanted mama Today I cried for mama Like I did yesterday. It’s been a while It’s been years It’s been seasons Feels like I am.. Still losing mama. Like I did that year, Today I tried to call mama At least in my mind Like I did yesterday. Today I needed Mama’s voice…… Continue reading Losing mama.
A bottle he opened Yet another he sipped Betraying a woman that held his heart. A child he brought forth With the whiskey to blame A child in the mix A web he won’t untangle A reminder of his whisky web. By Susan McMillan