Tag Archives: women writers

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.”

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.

myrlieandmedgar

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,

Mississippi Window Crack

Autographed copies available here

Amazon purchase

Becoming Water for New Seeds

2014-10-28 14.02.07

You are
the idea the African saw through the cracked wood of
the Henrietta Marie
You are
the seed of the new woman
the ecstasy in the fire
the gospel after poetry venues
praised on sidewalks and parking lots
you are now a prophet amongst preachers
burdened with the beauty of the entire rose
pick the thorns or keep them
just stay in tact / you came prickly and prissy
with a rampant river under your feet
your commitment will be constantly tested
through people using revolution to work our personal
problems
they’ll say you don’t fit the role / don’t look natural / ain’t ready to fight
you’re not committed to the destruction of the system
and they’re right
because you are a Creator / never forget that
You are a Creator
and you destroy the idea of death in order to live.

 

from the book, “Pocket Honey Wind & Hips”

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

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

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

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

Mixcloud.com-MluvWall

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

________________________________________________________________________________

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