Category Archives: daughters

Doubting: A Daughter’s Poem

nikkiinblue

I am the great great grand daughter of
Reversed breath and dared visions…
Gulps of darkness
and wind drifts of honey tamed coagulated blood
with sounds heavy / held in hallow fields.
I let life stain my ashen legs
with streams of flowers and foul
Ball cramp symbols under the folds of my toes
So the scorpion trails are sensible to children’s eyes.

I re-member,
Great grandmother’s conversations with a pine tree snake
He feared her gray eyes as I did
So we both kept our distance / mesmerized with her patience to catch a fly.
She was magic
And one day I sold her show for a rollercoaster ride
And a tongue kiss
I bought it back with my grandmother’s apron
…the one smeared with fish scales and rabbit guts
now I pay $6.89 a pound for whiting fillets
it used to be free after an afternoon at the lake

I am still her granddaughter
And her mother’s great grand daughter
And her mother a great great sunrise before…
dreamt of me.

Gay Girl

Rose curves in her eyes
at the entrance of a woman’s laughter
Her oversized cuspid seductively graze her bottom lip.

heart pumps catapult
marry her into utopia
      of
piano plays of fingertips on her inner thigh
     and
the suckle of nipples in her mouth longing
for the protective touch she once knew

someone once told her women couldn’t be friends, she believed her. her mom. she believed her mom / actually.

a vacant crime for a child’s ears
cause she’s loved women since glowlights on stormy nights.

nikki skies copyright 2013

when they come in dreams

I don’t know about you but I welcome them.     I am not afraid.
I believe they come to give. / not take.
blurredman

He left in 2010 and tried his best to prepare me. I wanted my optimism to be greater than his thoughts. And this wouldn’t be the first time the will of my optimism won over his years of experience. Now looking back… I wonder if he handed me those victories? Declaring my optimism for me solely.

So I walk into a room and there he is. My father. The room is full of other people but when I walk in, it’s as if he has been waiting for me. He does that stare.
/ the one where he makes me blink before him.
/ the one that makes everyone else follow his gaze to me.
/ the one that embarrasses me.
/ the one that validates me. yea, the stare that matters.

He announces to himself, but aloud, that I have arrived.
“There she is!”
I am excited to see him. I remember a gift exchange (that I wasn’t prepared for), some sort of event that moved everyone outside and some buses. Then morning came.

And he was gone / again.

I’ve been wanting to see him. I’ve been wanting to ask him about my play and my new book. I didn’t get a chance. Time went so fast and so much was going on.

I got his smile and his stare and him announcing me to everyone in the room. I believe when they come in dreams, they come to give. / and I did receive.

Wisdom in Whispers and Roars (Life with an 8 year old “Black Girl Who Rocks!”) by Jolivette Anderson-Douoning

 

 

 

joliandnadja2

LIFE WITH AN 8 YEAR OLD GIRL Pt 1

My Daughter: Mom, are you going to tell me “No” every time I ask for something?

Me: I told your Daddy “yes”, just be grateful for that and leave me alone, I’m tired and I need a nap.

LIFE WITH AN 8 YEAR OLD GIRL pt. 2

MY DAUGHTER: Mom, are we are famous?

ME: Why do you keep asking me that question, why do you think I am famous? OH, wait, you said “we” so is it both of us that are famous?

MY DAUGHTER: Yes, WE are famous.

ME: REALLY? What makes “us” famous?

MY DAUGHTER: Because me and ________ typed your name into Google and there are pictures of you, your email address and lots of stuff so that means we are famous.

ME: Okay, so what am I suppose to do with this fame you say I have? How am I suppose to act? 

MY DAUGHTER: Well, first you have to wear high heels. THEN YOU HAVE TO get a dress to match the high heels. THEN you have to get a purse that matches the dress and the high heels. THEN you have to SMILE ALL THE TIME AND MAKE EVERY BODY LIKE YOU. THEN, you will need to get a BOYFRIEND.

ME: OH! So I am doing this fame thing wrong, huh? Well, I am glad you put me on the right path.

Continue reading Wisdom in Whispers and Roars (Life with an 8 year old “Black Girl Who Rocks!”) by Jolivette Anderson-Douoning

Through My Daughter’s Eyes by Sandra Laraine Coleman

Sometimes the world can be a colorless, bland amorphous wreckage manipulating itself into collapsible ruins and discarded carnage that lived long past usefulness. Sometimes the world can be lively, loving, warm, welcoming like the yearning in a lover’s tender embrace we find ourselves never wanting to live without. This describes motherhood in an abusive relationship with your daughter’s father when life becomes an empty offering of neglect, misery and sorrow. Yes, your daughter’s father, whom you’ve loved since sixteen because that’s what sixteen-year-old girls do. They fall in love with hopeful hormones rioting to test-taste waters of grown and living prepares pre-woman for the woman who will eventually conjugate and ornament life with vibrant fleshed fruit. Ah yes, it was love ripening in you, trajecting into and out of “him” and that adoration would have continued had it not been subjugated with fists. Then one day you realize that a woman/mother should never have her words choked from her throat, then rammed down again. You have become skilled at swallowing strangled sentences and absorbing blows. The repeated silencing of your words accompanies eyes blackened and puffy blind, busted lips throbbing the fluffy color of pain, bloody noses that are percolating facial sacrifices, bruises decorating your body like cheap misshapen tattoes, stinging slaps from hardened hands so large they consume your entire face with wanton wrath and afterwards the rape. You never know what will initiate his vulgar violent rages, all you know … this is no “living” for you or her. Continue reading Through My Daughter’s Eyes by Sandra Laraine Coleman

when does sugar become sweet? by nikki skies

from the root? from perception? from the experience? when does sugar become sweet?

For me it is from the experience. And it is probably this for most others since we are not physically sugar canes. Be that, when does art become good? When is a love affair over? When is enough enough? When am I a bad parent?

These are all boundaries I have created for myself. My own little box I keep painted and maintained to look like my body with smooth brown skin. Perhaps like my mother felt when rearing my sister, brother and I, she was doing the best she could. She was doing what she knew and felt best at that time. And at times her decisions were based on her personal needs and I encountered moments of disappointment. However, what made me feel this way? The root, the perception or the experience?

It is all.

My oldest niece lives with associate disorder. (I have accepted this is the nice way of saying early stages of schizophrenia.) She dissociates herself with authority. She is bold and impulsive and therefore dissociates herself with effect. I am her guardian and have experienced bouts of fear and anger and sadness with this realization. Even though my sweetheart is an honor roll student in middle school, she does not understand these conversations I have with her. I can tell by the narrowing of her eyes. She just knows she is being scolded for “something”. When does her sugar become sweet? At her root? Her perception? Her experience? Is there truly an impact for her to acquaint with when she, like everyone else, is simply living out her karma?

Fear is the unknown. And like any parent, I send myself in frenzied panic attacks over her future. But when free from ostentation, I can empty my mind and live with her sugar being sweet under all three possibilities. Therefore declaring her a whole person.

motherdaughterpraying

future woman leader, my sister Erika

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My sister Erika loves to dance. I like that some of her hobbies are to play, dance and sing. When she grows up, she will give the world her gift of dancing. Everyone should have a sister like her because she’s fun, she doesn’t give up on anything, she’s smart and listens to what people has to say. And that’s way I love her.

Written by Kayla:
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