Category Archives: Poems

Poetry appears in varied manifestations …. Enjoy this battle cry!! X X

III III III III III III

For most of my life, I’ve been on a questTo discover just who I might be,Earnestly searching, day after day,So desperate to recognize me. I’ve felt moments of utter fulfillmentAnd moments I couldn’t go on,But I knew for the sake of my heart and my soul,To succeed, I would have to be strong. But theContinue reading “My Personal Quest”

* I come with no wrapping or pretty pink bows.I am who I am, from my head to my toes.I tend to get loud when speaking my mind.Even a little crazy some of the time.I’m not a size 5 and don’t care to be.You can be you and I can be me.I try to stayContinue reading “Be Proud Of Who You Are”

Because I know who I am,I’m at ease and free.I can’t be like others,And they can’t be me. I’ve got fading scars,An unusual physique,But it all works togetherTo make me unique. I’ve got hidden strengths,Some obvious flaws.Still I am who I am,For better, for worse. I don’t have to blend in;I won’t live a lie.IContinue reading “Unique”

Before I became strong, I knew what it was likeTo be weak,How difficult it is to love yourself,To find the wholeness that you seek. Before I knew the light,I have had my fair share of darkness, too,Where my world fell into a hopelessnessAnd I didn’t know how to get through. For I have known theContinue reading “Before I…”

The tide rises, the tide falls,  The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;  Along the sea-sands damp and brown  The traveller hastens toward the town,        And the tide rises, the tide falls.  Darkness settles on roofs and walls,  But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls;  The little waves, with their soft, white hands,  EffaceContinue reading “The Tide Rises, the Tide Falls”

The power of the black woman is vast because her beauty is strength, endurance, and love.It is not only a beauty of outwardly measure;It is a feeling of profound stillness.Her eyes show the depth of what she has triumphed over.Her skin is her glory.Her natural hair is her crown.Her experiences are etched through time.When sheContinue reading “MAJESTY”

You could travel up the Blue Nilewith your finger, tracing the routewhile Mrs Tilscher chanted the scenery.Tana. Ethiopia. Khartoum. Aswân.That for an hour, then a skittle of milkand the chalky Pyramids rubbed into dust.A window opened with a long pole.The laugh of a bell swung by a running child. This was better than home. EnthrallingContinue reading “In Mrs Tilscher’s Class”

The school bell rings, we go inside, Our teacher isn’t there. “Maybe she’s sick!” her pet cries out. Yeah, right. As if I’d care. * I have a D in Language Arts, My grade in math’s the same. And now my teacher might be sick. Could be I’m part to blame. * She doesn’t likeContinue reading “Mrs. Stein”