Is it Me? Is it me or did life get harder when I turned eighteen? Did the games we play turn into nightmares? Those doll house turning into true horror houses. Who knew that the fun would end and to survive we would have to bend to uncompromising wind? Though there were childhood horrors they pale against the terror of fighting untold torchbearers. Did our daily bread transform into a rocks too hard to chew and deadly to consume? Is it me or does it seem that finding the sun means fighting the rain so I can see again?
Category: Poetry Corner
Stop Cutting Onions
Stop Cutting Onions No it's not that I'm crying it's just that my eyes are sweating. What miracle- or curse- is this that I have this waterworks condition. No her pain is not the cause of the water that you see it's not the news of her passing it's the onions you see. Who said the purple ones were sweet and would not attack, my dear they are the most vicious of the lot! I think I will take a break go and lie down the burden of their juice is too great. If I stay a while longer I might drown.
Hurt people Hurt
Hurt people Hurt i am not a toy you can play with when i displease you you cannot put me away when you need me you cannot then pick me back up i am not here for your pleasure to dance and shift as your whim fancies i'm not here today and gone tomorrow like a figment of your imagination i am not a pet project a hobby that bears the essence of a novelty to wish me dead because i harmed you and to lift me up when i please you i am not your mirror to reflect what you need to see your voice that soothes your ego your pleasure is not my pain so i will not claim it you cannot know me because you have not earned that right my i will become my I now hear me! did you hear me? Yes. To divest from selfish to self-less I peeked into hell and as I did I looked deeply too deeply and saw carnage some created by me.
Let’s Reciprocate
Let's Reciprocate you have your plans and I've got mine don't expect them to align all the time, just don't see me and mine as your dime. Take what I can give and be satisfied just walk your walk look at you and let me carry this burden but let it not be a burden for two. take your time to figure you out but while you're at it do not devalue my worth! lean on me when you're not strong but let's reciprocate cause only a one side lean could be seen as hate. so though we can grow and blossom together let me tend to me and prune me while you do you sometimes from time to time or whenever.
Wanderlust
Wanderlust The itch comes upon me frequently. With great urgency my pulse beats a steady tattoo. I sit still - or try to - but nothing really works. I move here and there within the space I'm meant to but nothing really matters. I know I have responsibilities but they were not mine to choose. Each moment ticks by and with it I lie - it doesn't really matter. But can I, put my feet outside step out to an other side that will fit my outsized frame? Yet now, behind these bars I look longingly, desperately, and try to lift these weary feet.
I’m Still Blessed.
I'm Still Blessed I wade in wader almost to my head I'm still blessed. I walk bare on these embers I'm still blessed. Frost bites on top of frost bites I'm still blessed. My tears grow each day uncountable I'm still blessed. Grief stuck a blade deep in my heart I'm still blessed. I crawl across deserts unable to walk I'm still blessed. My eyes gorged out by injustices I'm still blessed. slowly I bleed out everywhere I'm still blessed. mutilated for my humanity I'm still blessed. In chains I must rise daily I'm still blessed. Thrown over cliffs to swim or sink I'm still blessed. Into an empty I've been caste I'm still blessed. Left to starve on my own bile I'm still blessed. My anchor holds me down the sun still rises in the east each morning My tremulous heart still beats A light guides me comes out of me and tells me you still have a reason you're still blessed.
So…I wrote a Book.
When I was a child and asked what I wanted to be, I chose the most popular at the time. I wanted to be a nurse, a teacher, a doctor, a lawyer. Then when I got older I wanted a glamourous job, a flight attendant (at least it was marketed as glamourous), super model (though I barely reached past five feet), an actress (though I never joined drama club), a singer (though I did not develop on my natural singing voice). Then I wanted something related to the subject I loved, I wanted to do journalism, travel the world and write about these places. Then I went to university and wanted to be whatever could pay for my student loans.
So, I ended being a teacher and have been doing this ever since. Along the way I have been inspired to write for different reasons and seasons. I write when I am happy, sad and mad. When I think I have something to say and when I know I have nothing to say but want to get out what is in me before it explodes from me. Writing has been something I have always done. Being the only child in a household of adults, great grand parents to be exact, I really did not have much option. I use to read four books in one day, write in my diary every day and read every box, bag, tube or bottle with words on it. Writing has always been my friend.
So when life throws something at me I have to write it down but in my own way. I had to tell my stories as I saw fit and poetry was the most beautiful way I could.
So I wrote and published a poetry book with poems that I have been writing for over ten years. Over the years I had promised myself I would write a book, but it was not gonna be a poetry book. It was gonna be novels like the one Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie wrote or Toni Morrison or Edwidge Danticat or Jamaica Kincaid. However, all I ended up writing were my poetries. I would read them to myself and be amazed that I wrote them. But that was all.
Then people saw them and told me I should publish them and I was mystified as to what they saw that gave them the idea that I could write anything great enough to be published. Then, much later, I realized that I was only finding excuses not to try. Excuses based on my own insecurities.
So this year I finally found the courage – with the support of some great people and dear friends – to learn more and grow, to put myself and my work out there and leave it there. I have a long way to go but this book is the step I needed to get out of my head.

