Growing In Stages

My eldest is off at his senior prom tonight. My first born whom I’ve kissed, nursed, scolded and molded as best as I could… I knew this day was coming. I was waiting for this day to come. 

But now that it’s here I realize I miss my little boy who loved wearing his ‘gentleman shoes’ and his ‘gentleman tie’ to school. I miss the innocence in his eyes when he would wake up saying, “I love you mommy!” I want those days back but I also am so proud of the young man he has become. He’s growing beard hair on his chin too…

A couple of weeks and he will be completely thrust into life as an adult with graduation. I can’t wait.

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Imperfection Perfection

I found one of my notebooks in my desk at work today (I have several notebooks stashed in various locations at home and at work). Looking through that notebook I discovered some of my poems that were written about six months ago.

Talk about surprise. I am caught off guard sometimes when I re-read my work because the intensity of my poetry is amazing. But alas, it is my poetry, right? This one particular poem, Imperfection Perfection, is one of those poems…

Staring at my reflection

at the results of bearing life

stretch marks gracefully swim

across my abdomen in waves

of caramel kisses.
The low slope of my breasts

reflect the nourishment

I provide for all who came forth

from my body.
My body is imperfectly perfect

in it’s own way

loving me as I love it…

– Why Yet 11/29/16

National Sibling Day, Easter…

Memory overload. I need to dump some of these mental files I am storing. Forgot that National Sibling Day was yesterday. Was reminded that Easter is this upcoming Sunday. Today is only Tuesday. 

Okay, I had to let that out. 

My children get along and enjoy each other’s company (for the most part). Well enough that I have pictures of them together. So here is my tribute to National Sibling Day…

Kindle is Life…

I just finished reading Mini Habits For Resilience by Tom Meitner on my way to my day job. He breaks down little ways we can develop a stronger resilience in our daily lives. I came across Tom’s book accidentally while searching for free books I could download for my children. (In case you are new to reading my words I am a word nerd, book nerd, however you’d like to describe it – I love books).

In life we tend to be harder on ourselves than anyone else, especially when we fail to reach a goal we’ve set for ourselves. This book shed light on the truth of how set backs can effect our view of ourselves and our abilities. Tom also offered ways to build resilience so setbacks aren’t as devastating to our sense of ability and accomplishment.

I think everyone should read at least one self-help book a year to improve in an area of life you may feel needs sprucing up… 

Black Without Apology

Too many times I have encountered individuals who behave as though only they have a right to exist on this planet. As big as this rock is… really? I can’t say I’m surprised with 45 fueling the flames. But I was inspired by the words I’ve been reading on here tonight. I wrote this poem, Black Without Apology, as an in your face call out to those who are closed-minded about anyone who is different:

Does my skin offend you?

Has my DNA mocked you?

Has my resilience taunted your very existence, pushing you to hate me?

Does my intelligence frighten

the very idea of your

subsistence on the degradation of my genetic make-up?

I guess nightmares and dreamscapes of terror

encourage you to intake artificial courage

to defile the image of my being

solely because you can’t bear

your child-mind of feeling inferior,

that gestating seed of uncertainty

that gnaws at your immorality

while you justify your (lack of) humanity

to your brotherhood of nonsensical brethren…

But I digress…

Your inability to come to terms with your ideas of the world

belong to YOU.

I am my melanated self because I am

and always will be

Black without apology.

– Why Yet 4/3/17

It’s National Poetry Month 2017!

Poetry month has returned again. I always find myself enthralled reading other’s words and feeling surprise at someone being enthralled by my own.

Don’t misunderstand me. I LOVE my works. My poetry is my therapy – therefore it is very personal and raw for me. Which makes me shy and proud to share it.

The first poem I remember having to memorize was Langston Hughes’ A Dream Deferred. I didn’t understand that poem at the age of ten but it stirred something in me. That quiet stirring continued until I read Maya Angelou’s Phenomenal Woman

Maya Angelou’s passion ignited the stirring in me and I began to slowly release my words onto paper. Not ever did I think, “I’m going to publish these poems and sell books.” But here I am, poetry collection published, writing more for another collection and pondering what to do next.

But every April for thirty solid days I am reminded, by myself and other poetry friends acquired over the years, that all poetry has beauty in it and speaks to someone somewhere.

Poetry is appreciation of life in the raw. Simple. Elegant. Rough. Raw. Love. Hurt. Deppressed. Happy. Excited. Sad. Mournful. Erotic. You get where I’m going with this.

Should you be a poet or know poets, show them some love this month. Read, share and/or review some of their work. Let them know their words mean something to you. In the meantime, I’ll keep writing and expressing my emotional transitions for all who choose to enjoy them!

Transition State of Me

I am learning to recognize when my life is in transition. You know those moments in life that you don’t realize you’re moving from one phase of life into another until after it happens? I get glimpses of those phases when I quiet my mind enough to hear the whisperings of my spirit.

My moments are unique to me. When I begin to feel suffocated in life (with my job, family, obligations) I know there is change brewing within. When the ‘adults’ around me irritate me with their childish behavior, I know there is change stirring up inside of me. Many times I have found myself feeling restless and unable to maintain my thoughts on singular ideas. When my mental space is crowded, I know it is that time of transition. 

Learning to recognize my signs for life transitioning is important. Once I started noticing the signs I remember to be more mindful of my thoughts, words and actions. I can also be more deliberate with my thoughts, words and actions. That is a powerful feeling. To be deliberate with the thoughts I choose to focus on, deliberate with the words I choose to speak. To be deliberate with my actions that choose to (or choose not to) partake in.

That is power. Power over myself. That feels strong. “Life and death are in the power of the tongue…” I heard that said at a Mary Kay convention in 2004 and it is so true.