Tag Archives: poetry book

“Seeds” a poem

“abandon finesse & sweat
revolt paying double for life
or occupying corners like unwanted dining room tables
needing coupons”


Black Folks Don’t Like Clowns

I won’t smile just because /
I’m not a clown.
We know better than walking with the flow of traffic
or to love without love
Demand a song for your shadow
garlic for your shoes / protect your trail
but saltwater the pattern
that only the shake of bones can re-assemble
this isn’t magic
but the perfect mixture of spirits
to parch abandoned trains traveling
and quench prayers pressed in family bibles.
There is no big top coming / No elephant tricks
So, from which rain do you belong?
who organized this parade?
with borrowed drum beats
something isn’t right…
we don’t play piccolo’s where I come from
And some will need to pay
especially if we don’t see the receipt or
experience you as a whole person
with a moon eclipsed hip
and patched spare tire
You want to stop crying?
Stop smiling for no reason.
Black folks don’t like clowns
anyway. –
“Black Folks Don’t Like Clowns” from the book “yardwork

Sister SOS (Inspired by Kathleen Cleaver)

She’s heard more eulogies than poetry so I wrote this for her.

Amidst the sips of licorice tea, I asked her
“what would she do differently.”

She replied she’d “love as fearlessly as she fought
take more time,
soak the greens instead of rinse ’em”
research his heart as she did antiquity.

She truly believed that for years she had a melody
but never a song
no vibration
no balance
“conquer your souls duality” she told me
the world is depending on you to love
surrender, Sister.


Nikki Skies, ©2007 Published in anthology of “His Rib: Stories Poems & Essays by HER” by Penmanship Publishing Group

my poetic contributions  

“Nikki Skies is a poetic warrior with style and honest energy. Powerful, vibrant, passionate and hypnotic expressions surrounds her forcing you to merge with her words.” Floyd Boykin Jr./CEO and Founder of SpokenVizions


“Nikki Skies is not a poet. Nikki Skies is a literary visionary. Painter of panoramic jazz sunsets, sonnets and dusty morsels of herstoric truth.” Anastacia Tolbert, Journalist/Cave Canem Fellow

Check it out for yourself!  Get a copy!

stripped (a poem)

tired of waking up tired / after 8 hours of sleep
up all night fighting somebody / even though I live alone
in a white dress / she came to me and said my peace would
come with pain / my peace was letting go of everything that I
believed keeps me sane.
I was naked / but not stripped, like before / misunderstood &
confused with this spiraling in my spine / I gave it all away.
I snored that night / I was so tired.