Tag Archives: #poets

Gifts for Mother Maya by Reverdia da’ River Woman

 

 

1) Although Angelou writes almost exclusively for African Americans, she has a huge following from other races.  Why do you think this is?

The Honorable Mother Maya writes from her experience as a human being first.  Yes, I know that sounds cliche’-ish… “same-ing”, if you will, the initiation of a struggling explanation, but if one listened to ‘Mother-Sister’, you can sense what was an insistent appetency to set right and at the same time comfort in her addressing us… all of us. Although her literary gifts to us were addressed from a woman’s eyes, simply because she was one, she was the glowing and towering, vibrant, flowing seductive and insistent, yet sweetly confident member of this human race first and wanted us all to feel that same sublime rendering of naked and free’d expression of self.

Little girls, givers of life- [where her story and destiny begins] come in all colors and influences and each deserves love and encouraging and protecting.  If the opposite is present, the difference dissipates and only the commonality of pain and tragedy, joy and ascending, remain- none of which is specific to any particular race, opinion, or culture.  Her living is / was certainly on common ground with the human spirit set in each of us regardless of  our location or station or not; as well as her truths. That kind of naked, bold, unencumbered, raw, vivid, biting and sometimes seducing caressing, and loving truth in her writing, sets us all on common playing ground.

How would you characterize Angelou’s style – her language, her tone, her choice of metaphors, and so on?
Continue reading Gifts for Mother Maya by Reverdia da’ River Woman

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She Chronicles presents, “A Woman of Class, Race, and Color” by DragonPoetikFly

She wrote about it.
I decided to read it.
I talked about it, and wanted to be it too.
Being about it is our business.
The issue of our revolution states:
“Women of all superiority, not inferiorities embrace the authority. For all your worth and
wealth to be like common; to be a race class of glorified gender. Free yet splendid, and
not yet worldly desired. Thinker and strong willed back breaking baby baring queens.
Raise your fist like this!
Put them in the air like this!
Be proud like this!
Civilized nature isn’t bliss, we have no colors of suffrage.”
Am I not a woman?
Unleash the femininity of your womanhood.
Put the power on them!
You are naturally nurturing our future into progression,
not with standing oppression.
This is my confession, and all I want to shout out is
“Power to The People!”
Stick my pick in my afro with the fist erect,
and know better days and ways are here.
Yes I patiently await its coming.
We are just now recognizing we are free.
But we still think, feel, and behave like slaved women.
We are scholars, felons, activist, writers, philosophers, and many uncrowned
accomplishments in one.
A hero this woman is,
and an personification of the struggle of women.
She embraces her community and its families.
We are fighting against aggressive relations.
Lady love embrace our nation.
I love you Angela Y. Davis a woman of race, class, and color

Inspired By: Angela Y. Davis 1981 Novel “Women, Race and Class”
DragonPoetikFly Publishing Ink.© ™2018

 

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Click here for more works by DragonPoetikFly

 

tiresome tuesday

applaud Her broken heart poetry
then pass Her a notepad and fresh ink

She dies when rape is spoken of so desensitized.

Like a chipped fingernail or
wrecked car She can call and get
a claim number for
It doesn’t get renewed!

She just let it get used and disown its’ power
so next time he wants to
punch it
or break her back
or dig in dem guts
It won’t hurt
Her.

_____________________________
She chose to be one of the “unreported” stats.
I confronted my homophobia.
I re-defined my definitions of rape.
15 years later, I wrote The Town Dance.

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PURCHASE AT The Town Dance Paperback and Kindle

lovin’

There’s something intensely intimate about cooking a meal for a man
then having him hold your hand across the table and say  / grace.

animated-couple

In between the “I love you’s”
this is how we reconnect:
I straddle and clutch on to him
for my dear life       and       he /
recharges himself inside of me with all I have to offer  /  then
me and my man          we go out and change
the
world.
from the poetry book, Pocket Honey, Wind & Hips

Missing Rifle / Missing Woman (for Harriet Tubman)

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sky readers / moon believers
before the sunrise prayers
Wisdom Born Mamas sew star, sun, earth, heart shaped
patterns on
quilts to warm babies
and free souls
hearing from the wind when to hang ’em
high on the clothes line
Before rooster crow / before master know
patterns on quilts mapped out which way to go
to wade in the water
Missing Rifle / Missing Woman.

**Dedicated to the courage of Harriet Tubman and the slaves and quakers that made quilts and hung them to slyly map the way to freedom**

quilt
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harriette tubman

from the poetry book, Pocket Honey, Wind & Hips

 

A Poem

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It’s a poem if the words can live without you.

If the allegory can make blinding light shine from tombs
awaken memories
breathe them back to – reality.

It’s a poem if,
there are possibilities for similies linking people
universally
from fallen walls to picket signs
drawing scents of lemons
shake hands of farm girls to vegetarians
likening poetry to biblical days
with your comrades
logging different chapters
forcing the community for just one night
to look
directly into the sun
That’s a poem.

from the poetry book, Pocket Honey, Wind & Hips

a Note on Time (meeting me2)

She left this morning.
conveniently smooth like tap water /
Promises taped to her right palm for her to befriend the wild with food

She just wanted to be great.
Capsize time and defend her sister and brother
Look her father in the eye with familiar
Write down her Grandmother’s genius words
Learn the earth at the expense of her Grandfather’s back

She came. / throttled tone with soprano cheeks
shy girl
social as corners
barely

Intimately speaking is how she preferred things
but stories pierced her earlobes
diamonds to shine / hoops to dangle
pages to escape poverty

Like you / she survived through chances
stand offs against never and silence
She left this morning
after a cup of coffee
but prepared these words for you.