On waiting

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Till April

Folks, I have an important task/ teaching job for the next two months which will demand all of my time and mental fortitude. For this reason, I am deactivating/severing all of my social media accounts, including posts on blogger. I am truly grateful that some of what I have written have been of interest to you all. I am excited to say that by virtue of interacting with you all via this platform, I have come to realize that I want to dedicate a greater chunk of my work to writing - whether it is social commentary, poetry, or short fiction. I am truly grateful for the support and encouragement I have received from you all. Honestly, just seeing one pageview is encouraging. I have never felt as powerful as I do now. Looking ahead, here are some of the things I will be doing during my social media hiatus and when I have time away from my job: 1. Read, read, read, read. While I read indiscriminately and broadly on the web, I miss holding a book between my fingers and dedicating more ...
Read more

Reasons it hasn't worked

I like men who impress me Lots of women like them I am sacrificial in what I want Forthright in what I need I like only him He is egotistical He has power by way of his intelligence or pursuit Lots of women like him He likes lots of women He does not know how to be a man and be with me. Poems for 72 Days, Poem 11 Inspired by Warsan Shire - Excuses For Why We Failed at Love
Read more

Untitled

A call from many a women to their mothers To healing, to forgiveness; how to not be a “tragedy of your experiences”; how to get it back I am here tomorrow, gone today I am equal, yet still not free I left in search of more though much is here I am in a garden of spirits In need of the art your work makes, as is my fate Last I remember my soul was being hauled into a grand hall A dilemma not to be shared, I revealed without much thought Months later, as though you knew, I would fall So much is here but I have left in search of more My heart yearns for that one missed call Mother I write only what I recall When he beat you, slapped you, cursed your ways, your taste, and the food you make, you got on your knees and crawled He would sleep with other women, use your money, drink his tail ends off, and you surprisingly kept true to yours I watched, they watched, and as he got more possessive, with time you fought Eventually after many near attempts of...
Read more