Tag Archives: nikki skies

Poetry Video Post: “Like a Woman” by Annabelle Fern

“Pretty little baby, I have raised you like a woman… when you see the crocodiles you will come to your mother and we will laugh at them.”

She Chronicles presents: DragonPoetik Fly

“Granny, It’s So Hard Remembering”
Granny,
I am the one to never lie to you,
we shared so much through the years so many beautiful secrets you and I.
No one child you put before another,
and come together like family is supposed to
and keep it real with each other.
I love and care for you so much
it is fatal to my life and all of us grew from your wisdom,
A beloved mother a dependable grandmother.
When walking through the universal gates of ol’,
the trumpets will raise up and play to your praises.
“Oh She’s A Jolly Good Granny, Which No one Can Deny!”
I can picture you now walking through the house with your
hands in your robe pocket.
That memory I will forever cherish,
and store in my hearts locket.
The many things you said to us, evening calling us
“Rocking Fools”. We would not stop we are going
straight through the walls via the living room.
I would and still today would give all that’s in me to hear
you speak of what fools we are, and it wasn’t
a problem being a fool for you.
I would give my everything, and anything at all to have grown to be like you. (No regrets)
You are still a strong woman, if not stronger now
as well. Your heart was beautiful, but weak
with bruised lungs you could not spare another breath.
I was always scared this one day would happen to me and it did just that,
now I understand why you left.
We asked alot of you, our all in all.
You continued to look upon us Granny with no cruelty,
even when we fall. I fell so many times, and thought I would never get up.
I was dying in this world, but living in your remembrance.
I am embraced by what I know…those peaceful
thoughts and words that I heard silently flow.
Your illness was just a means for many years a norm,
but only God and you knew your soul was in healthy form.
Bleakness to an understanding I can sometimes
grasp from you everyday in my present light.
I am walking in a dim light shadowed by your glow,
and radiance aligned in plain sight.
You have and forever will shine on your family.
I can’t speak for us all to thy own self be true, I appreciate
and respect you. There was no way or how I
could forget the speedy tongues of words whispering
through your raspy voice. A unique sound,
and smooth light brown skin, I knew where my natural qualities
were bred within. I can never forget you Granny
as years surpassed my mind a light flickers in mind it’s you “EVELYN”.
I smile more and less tears drops from my
heart and spirit. I have inner peace I am calm,
collected, and cool. On the day they tried to bury you away from my view,
I became a fool to cry cry cry!
But as I whined down, and looked somehow
deep in my soul. I could now admit to myself
it was your final time to fly fly fly!
I will eternally love you, and all the years that have passed
miss you very much. I adore your spirit,
and wept many a day’s lonely without your presence to clutch.
As you have been laid to rest in an unstressed sleep,
I can not caress your outer arms and face. The flesh of your existence
are gone my heart is with sorrow so deep.
All your family gathered around your resting place
we could not let you go right then,
I did not want any final goodbyes Granny.
I will see you later I promise this one day we will
meet again. This feeling comforts my mind although my love,
it is so hard remembering.
As I laid that rose upon your grave, I know you are free
so free. God favored you dearly and I can
come to peace now remembering.
Rest In Love “Granny” Evelyn Smith, blessed be your soul!
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dragonfly
More information on DragonPoetik Fly can be found at: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/8225958-marbea-e-logan

She Chronicles presents: Joylissa LeFleur

New School

     Sex education for me and many young black girls in the 1980s consisted of shallow, scary, guilt-laden directives on what to and (especially) not to do. From the women in my family I learned, 1. Keep your skirt down and your panties up. 2. Good girls don’t… (do anything related to sex with men, definitely not with women, and especially not with yourself). 3. All men want is sex. The only thing my father ever said regarding sex was, “Ain’t no abortions in this house”. From school I learned that if I insisted on being a wild, unruly, teenager and having sex, absolutely use condoms because unprotected sex causes pregnancy and nasty diseases that itch, burn, stink and cause sores. Finally, from the church I learned that my body is solely for my husband’s pleasure when making babies and premarital sex will certainly send me straight to hell.

     To say old school sex education was less than comprehensive is an understatement. Additionally, girls’ education was drastically different from, and often in direct opposition to, boys’. While girls were taught to guard and value virginity at all costs, boys were often encouraged prove their prowess by having sex with multiple girls and women before, during and after marriage. Girls were given chastisements for chastity. Boys were given condoms and told, “Just don’t bring home no babies”.

     In addition to being inaccurate and contradictory, these lessons lacked information on anatomy (female and male), autonomy, consent, sexual assault (particularly by acquaintances and family), the reproductive process, and pleasure. How do you talk about sex and not talk about pleasure?

     Not only was the teaching incomplete, it was physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually dangerous, proving detrimental to girls’ development into holistically sound women. Hence, the staggering number of sexual assault survivors who have come forward during the rise of #MeToo is not surprising given society’s, especially women’s, poor sex education. Sadder still is that as bad as the sex education of the 1980’s was, for previous generations it was worse. Basically, our parents didn’t teach us better because they didn’t know any better.

     But better knowledge is widely available now. And those who know better must do better and teach others so they can do better as well. We must uproot the culture of sexual guilt, shame, oppression, repression, silence, toxic masculinity and rape that has grown from the seeds of miseducation and flourished under sexist and patriarchal reign and rain. Simultaneously, we must sow new seeds of equality, respect, honesty, trust and communication to cultivate a new society free from sexual violence.

     In teaching we must continue learning, to avoid inadvertently imparting obsolete and therefore erroneous information to those trying to learn. Education, like sexuality, is fluid: it can change over time. We must be prepared to adapt. And now that we know what we must do, let’s begin. The bell is ringing. School is back in session.

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joylissa

Joylissa LeFleur 
A perpetual conundrum with a purple pen, Joylissa LeFleur is a sexy black woman storyteller spreading love on this ball called earth one laptop keystroke at a time. A morally upstanding member of humanity, she is not above being bribed with beach trips, books, or stimulating conversations over popcorn and spirits.
Contact Joy at getloveandjoy@gmail.com and check out her musings at

 

She Chronicles presents: Petru J. Viljoen

The Woman and the Bear
Thus she was found:
scraping salt from her cheeks
with an open blade
working towards the
open throat looking on
with reckoning, bloodshot eyes.
Such, such intention
she was (able to) made to harness
By whom? … you may well ask
She was made to harness such
intention,
step by step up
a tall mountain
one foot exactly
in front of the other …
you haven’t said thank you … She froze.
from deep
the shriek was fetched,
strident rising outrage
screaming cadence.
Crashing up through
slabs of concrete silence
sustained sound relentless
growing roaring, howling;
the very earth, appalled,
doubted its foundation.
The bear by now awoken
bristled, bellowed its outrage;
a crescendo,
the very air felt threatened
of being rent.
the woman at its throat – the bear …
have mercy …
the mountain shook
her soul who heard
the call and rose, persisting through its
rise abating softly, softly rising
insistent, illuming,
until she heard,
and let it go.
-written April 2014
_________________________________________________________________________________
A Note from the Author:
This poem is loosely based on the folk tale ‘The Crescent Moon Bear’ as
published in Women Who Run With the Wolves in chapter 12: Boundaries
of Rage and Forgiveness by Clarissa Pinkola Estes.

More information on the author can be found at: pviljoen.wordpress.com

She Chronicles presents: AmberMarie~La Femme Creole~

STICK OF DYNAMITE (FREEDOM)

I took a stick of dynamite and through that bitch into my life
Family Blown up
D words like cuss words up in here
Dynamite…divorce
Damn!
What makes somebody do something so dramatic?

Wings clipped head dipped
Shackles around my feet
I can’t fly I can’t breathe
Head towards the sky
Feet cemented to the ground I have to fly
Sticks of dynamite thrown into my life
So that I can fly I can breathe
I can do I can be

I haven’t been me
Deep inside I feel the essence of
What used to be me
I have become but a shell
You might not understand
You might not understand taking such
Dramatic action

But
I could not breathe
I could not fly
Dynamite was all that I could cling to
Dynamite was my friend
I’ve got to blow this shit up and start again
I can’t do this

Everytime
I think that I am soaring
Chains heavier than heavy can be
Weightier than weight can be
Have been pulling on me
And I’m supposed to just be
I’m supposed to just settle
With life
Being the way it will be

But, fuck that, I need to be free
I need to breathe
I need to fly
I need to soar
I need to dip
I need to dive
Like a phoenix from the ashes
I shall rise
Up

I must be me
I don’t know who I have been
But what I do know is that
There was there was little reciprocity.

Why must all responsibilities be on me?

My shoulders like a 400-pound gorilla Has been just sitting on me
Shitting on me I can’t do this anymore I must be free so
Dynamite became my best friend
Threw that bitch right
Into my life
So that freedom
I could be

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AMI La Femme Creole Pic

AmberMarie ~La Femme Créole~ is a poet, spoken word artist, writer, author, inspirational speaker, dancer, singer, actor, painter…she is an artist. Her loves are those blissful things that tantalize the mind and senses. AmberMarie is the founder/creator of The LA Showcase, a Los Angeles based open mic established in 2008.  She’s also a member of the eclectic band Stanky Gumbo, La Famille Creole.

AmberMarie is Creole (Black, French, Spanish, Cherokee and Blackfoot Indian). Her mother’s side of the family is from Shreveport, Louisiana and her father’s side of the family is from Houston, Texas. She was born and raised in Santa Maria, California. AmberMarie has lived in Palo Alto, California; San Diego, California; Honolulu, Hawaii; and currently resides in Los Angeles, California.

AmberMarie is divorced and has a beautiful, intelligent 16-year-old daughter, Ava Marie; a talented and brilliant 8-year-old son, Marvin “Tre Boogie,” and a smart and precocious 3-year-old son, Malachi. She also has two bonus babies, gorgeous Shaquay, 28, and talented Jaleel, 26, and two grandsons by way of Shaquay, Kameron, 9, and King, 4, with another little grandbaby on the way due in August 2019. AmberMarie is an ordained Kemetic-centered reverend who unashamedly and fiercely loves Mother/Father God and her family.

Contact Info:

ambermarie@stanfordalumni.org

for your weekend shopping giggles

One of my career(s) was being in executive retail management. It was incredible money but A LOT of work. Once I left that job, a part of my missed the none stop hustle and bustle of things so I created this character, Grace, to fill the void. (clever huh?)  If you enjoy comedy, short stories and shopping- get a copy of “Grace in Retail – The Bonus“. Here’s Grace in action…