“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.”
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Tag Archives: she chronicles
Remembering Medgar Evers Today – “A Prose for Medgar and Myrlie” by Nikki Skies
It landed on the kitchen table next to the watermelon. Like a Sunday newspaper on Thursday. Set aside for recycling. Or an abandoned spoon after dessert. It sat there foreign but familiar. Like an African American in America.
The carousel sang loudly. Drowned out the relief of parental duties. Playful screams resonated the atmosphere. Cotton candy decorated white faces pink and blue. Mustard stains on white t-shirts. Scraped knees caused by unattended shoelaces. The day was glee and the night carefree, as flying gravel spun under running feet.
Her bladder was full of miles like her mother’s. She watered the ground with chocolate auburn. The spices enticed the clouds to cry and capture the streets. She met him where the sun sat in the fire pit. He kissed her hand to summons a feather so she wouldn’t doubt his words. His eyes were complete like the turn of an owl’s head. The preacher announced their commitment where roads met corners with mirrors. He hung their picture in a birdcage to catch time. He told them not to be afraid.
The first season spread the hours like a bridge. He supplied water to dry, fallen branches daily. Believers of the unseen. She carried unicorns in her pockets. They wore audacious yellows and greens in a black and white world. Demanded freedom like 8 a.m. school bells. Unbalanced as thick as unjust. At night she placed sweet onions on his eyelids. He remained rooted. His tongue poignant from the aroma.
Dog’s were death’s best friend. Hydrants absent from fires. Hoses present at protests. Tilted buses full of spiritual songs. Northern boys with fresh fists. Southern boys with patched will. Northern girls with golden intuition. Southern girls with ancient maps. Laughter extinct. Spit like rain. Freedom rides. Spirits flew. Red summer. Blue years. Freedom wide. Hatred tall. Black bodies hung/ burned/ mutilated. Daylight tardy.
Soprano saxophone accompanied her screams. Vibrato in her hands. His head in her lap. His eyes meeting her’s was the prize. “Sit me up, turn me loose.” Abandoned from forever. She sat him up. Erect as pillars. Baroque rocked. Down. She sipped tea in China.
Scores for his name. His verses rhymed her forward. Her passion sweet as fruit. Seasoned. Made days wet cement. For imprints. Slops. Hills. Concrete with purpose. His remembrances sleep at our feet.
a prose from the book,
She Chronicles presents: Duania Hall
Mended
As I think of all the detours in life,
I am reminded that some of us are hurting,
struggling and stressed out
and God wants to remind all of us that our struggles
did not claim His promises for us
We may have some lingering emotional pain
and in other ways be bruised, but we are not ruined
We just need to be freed from any perceived faults
We need to be strengthened and restored
We need to be mended
and God is still in the mending business.
Some may say “Girl I don’t need mending, I’m good”
But the reality is things fall apart and when they do,
we start to question the essence of who we are
We are fearfully and wonderfully made women
We are the ones who were created from man because
we were necessary for carrying out God’s plan
We were given the spiritual insight to mother
the King of Kings, yet at times we’ve gotten
paralyzed by earthly things; and
some of these things severely rocked, and shifted us
and every time, the ‘Mender’ came and lifted us
because like the sun, moon and stars,
when He looked at us for the first time,
He said “That’s my best work by far”
God looked at Woman and He was pleased.
But even with His approval, sometimes,
the vibrations of our issues and traumas
bring us to our knees; afraid to move in any direction
But from a biblical recollection, we are pre-wired with
a spirit not intended to hold’s fear’s place
On the cross, He already set the pace for
dominating in life’s race, so, we must part ways with the
frays of those thought patterns that tend to leave us saddened.
When it comes to our spouses and children and
jobs and churches; we worry about being enough
and get trapped in the cuffs of “I need to do more”
or “What else can I do”
Women before us say the work of our gender is never through
We need mending!
Some of our history includes betrayal by someone who appeared
loving, but deemed us fitting for the splitting of our spirit,
as they denounced our value through acts of violence that
reversed our innocence; sent shock waves into our system
with every blow, until domestic violence became our daily show
and we no longer took time to enjoy the view…
Newfound positions as ‘Cover Girls’ with just the
right shades to camouflage our brokenness
We need mending!
Some of us had a foster brother or another
who took advantage of his vantage to, access
the bedroom where little girl memories are created—
elated was the perpetrator’s feelings each time they left
Now into adulthood, emotions swept, because those on whom
we relied—denied that the experience was more than
a fake story—now we accept their sentencing, or we,
keep pushing forward while burying the bones of
their infractions in fractions of our minds
We need mending!
We need the one-of-a-kind Savior whose
mercy on us never passes and His grace is open
wide to remove bandages and exchange beauty for ashes…
not needing any cashes because Jesus’ blood
dripped down until it was as round as the highest valued coin
He loves us from His loins, so know that the validity of
our pain and anguish are not in question
The ultimate sacrifice was made so that we could
move beyond tragedies and partake in divine function.
Some of us have lost jobs, cried through divorce and buried
our parents or children—
Bearing these crosses, made this world much more difficult to live in
Then there are women who are younger who have watched
the weeds of depression rearrange their emotional gardens,
hardened by the need to ease the tumultuous friction
Evil got us walking around like cutters
Taking painful memories and re-opening old wounds
while filling our minds with clutter,
feeling even lower as we realize that surviving can be
worse than the act—pack of angels the Father timely sends
to ensure we don’t end what He started
No matter how bad it seems,
His love for us cannot be departed and
He always knows when and how we need mending!
He will Make Everything Not Destroy us
even though it seems to deplete us
He will Mince Evils Needing Dismantling
He will Maintain Efforts to Needlepoint our Destiny
He will keep Mapping the Entrance to New Dreams
previously left dormant
He will Meticulously Endorse Noteworthy Declarations of
our forgiveness and favor for future foundations
After every problem, every issue, every crisis, every confusion,
every “why come,” every “What do I do,” every “How did this
happen,” every heartache and every tear…He, will, mend!
Women are intricate instruments intended to redefine this world;
and as we are impearled by His mending, we will meet the very
best version of ourselves and become, the greatest blessing.
Get ready to receive your mending!
________________________________________________________________________________________
Duania Hall aka “The Owner”, is known for owning the stage when sharing her poetry. She also previously hosted the poetry venue Speak Out Loud in Inglewood, CA. Duania is Woman of God, mother of two, Social Worker who creates and facilitates empowerment and poetry workshops for youth and adults, from all walks of life. Duania believes everyone has the capacity to create change and her motto is “when we create, we change the game”. Look out for her next poetry book, More than Words, set for release later this year. Duania can be reached at: poeticdezigns@gmail.com
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!
________________________________________________________________________________________
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.
________________________________________________________________________________________
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: MLuv
The Struggle
Woman, the struggle is real.
And you know it by the way you feel
Alone, bruised, beaten and battered,
Slapped around by life till your soul is tattered
Riddled with sores inside that don’t heal
Unless it’s with tears
Copious tears that cascade and don’t fade
Until you get still and feel we’re here
Know that
I’m the same as you
Sisters in mind
From Israel’s streets to Russia’s peaks
Love speaks
Listen to our voices
Truth be told we were molded from the same earth
A secret
Under cover of night till daybreak
Mixed and shaped
Held together with Euphrates and Tigress
Ancient moisture
He made a clay
Sprinkled some with cinnamon dust
Some with ground cocoa
Others with vanilla bean
But it’s us
Different, but yet the same
And I stand with you
Outstretched hands
Waiting to move with you
I Am You
But you knew that.
________________________________________________________________________________________
MLUV (pronounced Em Love)is a Radio Personality, Writer, Motivational Speaker, Event Host and Poet. She is the Host of her own weekly online Talk Radio Program/Podcast on the IBNXRadio.COM Network called “LiveLifeInThePURPLE with MLUV.” Committed to spreading positive vibes and encouraging all who tune in. “The Purple” is a poetic way of communicating the message that life is better when our thoughts, motivation and intentions are rooted in positive thinking. Inspired by research on the colors in the rainbow that revealed that of all the millions of colors in the rainbow, the ones that had the highest measured frequency were the violet spectrum, of which purple is a part. Hence, Live Life in The PURPLE. MLUV uses her show as a platform to give support to Entrepreneurs, Musical Artists and is a voice in the Mental Health Community. She aligns with people in the community who are serving those who suffer and interviews and promotes those who are sharing their light and love. She is a Social Activist and actively supports Local charitable efforts aimed at protecting Women and Children as well as Sexual Abuse, Human Sex Trafficking and Suicide Prevention and Homelessness and Recovery.
Current Projects- CEO and Founder of Purple Door Creations, LLC and www.R2isetheatre.org troupe member. Her first book of Poetry entitled “Thoughts From A PURPLE MIND”, The Poetry Of MLUV is in production.
Her debut CD is out on Bandcamp and available for digital download. Search for “MLUV” or “Sounds From A PURPLE Mind”.
Mantra: “POSITIVITY, ITS A MOVEMENT BABY!”
Join the Purple Movement and listen to LiveLifeInThePURPLE with MLuV on IBNXRADIO.com
Email: Mluv@purpledoorcreations.com
iHeartRadio- Live Life In The Purple
FB: MluvWall
IG:MluvWall & livelifeinthepurple
Twitter: llitp
She Chronicles presents: MLuv
I AM
I AM a BLACK WOMAN
I AM Beautiful.
I AM Complex.
I AM
Weirdly wonderful, wildly tamed, comically entertaining and cosmically unchained, with a free spirit like a masterpiece unframed!
Predictably Unpredictable
I AM
The sum total of my mother and my father… a fine mixture of my past, present and future.
I just AM!
Growing, Expanding, Learning, Experiencing, BEing,
Rightly mysterious and yet pleasingly transparent.
Acceptance brings Peace and Peace brings Clarity.
Thru my minds eye is a Vista an Unobstructed view so
I can see both right in front of me
And miles behind.
I see YOU coming … And if YOU don’t vibe right
I don’t mind seeing YOU going.
I don’t claim to nor aim to be perfect.
I AM what I AM!
When the time presents the opportunity for me to BE
What I AM to BE next …
I will BE that …PERFECTLY, IMPERFECT and on time!
Meanwhile…
See, I AM like YOU SISTA.
WE ARE
Beautiful!
WE ARE
Complex!
WE ARE…Weirdly Wonderful,
Wildly Tamed,
Comically Entertaining
and Cosmically Unchained, with a free spirit like a masterpiece Unframed!
Predictably Unpredictable…
WE ARE WOMEN!
________________________________________________________________________________________
MLUV (pronounced Em Love)is a Radio Personality, Writer, Motivational Speaker, Event Host and Poet. She is the Host of her own weekly online Talk Radio Program/Podcast on the IBNXRadio.COM Network called “LiveLifeInThePURPLE with MLUV.” Committed to spreading positive vibes and encouraging all who tune in. “The Purple” is a poetic way of communicating the message that life is better when our thoughts, motivation and intentions are rooted in positive thinking. Inspired by research on the colors in the rainbow that revealed that of all the millions of colors in the rainbow, the ones that had the highest measured frequency were the violet spectrum, of which purple is a part. Hence, Live Life in The PURPLE. MLUV uses her show as a platform to give support to Entrepreneurs, Musical Artists and is a voice in the Mental Health Community. She aligns with people in the community who are serving those who suffer and interviews and promotes those who are sharing their light and love. She is a Social Activist and actively supports Local charitable efforts aimed at protecting Women and Children as well as Sexual Abuse, Human Sex Trafficking and Suicide Prevention and Homelessness and Recovery.
Current Projects- CEO and Founder of Purple Door Creations, LLC and www.R2isetheatre.org troupe member. Her first book of Poetry entitled “Thoughts From A PURPLE MIND”, The Poetry Of MLUV is in production.
Her debut CD is out on Bandcamp and available for digital download. Search for “MLUV” or “Sounds From A PURPLE Mind”.
Mantra: “POSITIVITY, ITS A MOVEMENT BABY!”
Join the Purple Movement and listen to LiveLifeInThePURPLE with MLuV on IBNXRADIO.com
Email: Mluv@purpledoorcreations.com
iHeartRadio- Live Life In The Purple
FB: MluvWall
IG:MluvWall & livelifeinthepurple
Twitter: llitp
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
________________________________________________________________________________
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:
She Chronicles presents: Brenda Dzangare
DESOLATION
Ignorant robber
Calamity is coming beware
He knew what He was doing , when he made you and me
Were we not meant to depend on each other ?
Only just He , knew what He was doing
Oh! I see what you have become
A bad omen to prevailing future
Urbanisation and peripheral development , you call it
And yet plundering what we thought was our home
You come armed with bull dozers in our territory
Yet there we humble ourselves fearing your machines
Away you drag our homes , children and elders .
Leaving us with nowhere to squatter
A bad omen to prevailing future
Created tiny was never my wish
Crawling in undergrowth , never my choice
He knew what He was doing ,when he created you and me
Was born here ,where now do I herd to?
Try moving further and another city shouts peripheral development
My species running dry of offspring because of urbanisation
A bad omen to prevailing future
Our roots used to greet each other under mother earth
Proudly we once stood in our green uniform at peace
Then came this calamity called urbanisation and peripheral development
Uprooting my forefathers , now me and tomorrow my offspring
Plant a tree whenever you uproot one , called a wise voice
Deaf peripheral development never listened
If my offspring is uprooted today , there won’t be a forest tomorrow
A bad omen to prevailing future
________________________________________________________________________________________
Brenda Dzangare is an urban fantasy fiction and non fiction writer. Author of “Calah Crown” series book one on Amazon Kindle and Lulu publishers online platform. Dzangare is also writer of 5 books of Reading Time series, a children’s 10 book series, new Zimbabwean curriculum. She is also a writer of poetry with poems featuring in 2019 January International Poetry Digest Issue and another to feature in February Issue. Her poem titled “Two fools”, will be featured in Pop Shot Magazine identity issue in mid February 2019.
For more information, follow Dzangare on her Facebook and Twitter pages.
