When I was a child I only ever wanted to be strong.
I wanted to be able to compete with the boys
and when I foot raced them at recess I won every time.
They called me ‘She Hulk’ because of my muscular frame
and from the way I only ever wore soccer t-shirts and sweat pants.
After that nickname was implanted into my brain like a growing weed,
I’ve only ever wanted to be feminine.
I started wearing skirts and dresses
and in middle school they shrieked at the site of my makeup and done up hair.
But that weed inside of my mind only grew, and grew, and grew
until I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part anorexic and two parts lonely,
because I thought that the definition of feminine began with the word frail.
No one ever realizes how greatly words affect us,
how a simple nickname can turn a pretty girl into a skeleton.
I stood at five foot two weighing seventy nine pounds,
so cold and frozen,
yet I still considered myself a ‘She Hulk.’
You could see my ribcage through my t-shirt
and my spinal cord protruded loudly through my weathered skin,
as if somehow my bones were dirty knives
just trying to cut through the flesh of judgment.
As I grew older I became the girl that was never enough.
Not good enough to speak poetry.
Not good enough to lay paint on a canvas.
Not good enough.
Not tall enough.
Not big enough boobs for them.
Not primped to perfection.
Not undeniably straight.
Not smart enough.
Not dumb enough.
Not ditsy enough.
Not cool enough or fun enough.
And I began to believe, too, that I wasn’t enough.
I never told my mother that I had been in madly in love with a girl.
I never told anyone about the night we first kissed
because I was too vulnerable for the judgment.
And parents always justify saying that ‘kids will be kids’
But when we are kids our brains are still growing
and the smallest of seeds that get planted will one day bloom
into one giant regret,
will one day affect the choices that we make,
will one day influence us about the clothes that we wear,
will one day shape us into the person who we thought we would never be.
I only ever wanted to be strong,
and as a child I thought strength was only about being able
to lift a bar stool above your head.
I thought that strength was only about being able
to beat the boys in bare foot running races.
I was told that strength was something only
a man could have.
But as I’ve grown older I’ve realized that strength
isn’t about muscle at all,
but it’s about weakness,
and the ability to overcome the social anxiousness.
It’s about carrying around a lifetime of baggage
on your broken back
because the ones that kicked you when you were down
are going to be the ones that were ultimately wrong.
I thought that the definition of woman
began with the word disappointment.
And I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part freedom
and two parts Sailor Jerry
because every girl needs a stiff drink once and awhile.
We are not disappointments.
We will never be the ones who gave up on hope.
We will never be the ones who gave up on each other,
or our mothers.
We will always be enough;
enough for the ones who shunned us
enough for the ones that cursed us
enough for the ones the hurt us
and destroyed us
and beat us when we were covered in bruises.
But you see, bruises fade
and the scars of our flesh are only stories
things we have overcame
and there are things out there that we will overcome.
When I was a child, I only ever wanted to be strong.
I hid my vulnerability.
I hid the parts of me that were true.
I never told my mother about my girlfriend
because I was afraid she wouldn’t understand,
kind of like all those people who never understood
just how much words effect us.
I can’t say that I can beat the boys at foot races anymore,
because, well, I smoke cigarettes now.
And I can’t say that the nickname of my childhood didn’t affect me.
But I take that name now and embrace it.
Because I am strong.
I am the ‘she hulk’.
I am a mixed drink cocktail
with three parts greatful.
im sorry ive caused you pain.
i thank you for sticking by me through everything.
and not giving up on me. i dnt no what
i would do if you had given up on me.
Im sorry ive lied to your face and you knew it,
but you still loved me the same as before.
so i thank you.
i dont know if i would be here with you if you had given up on me.
im sorry ive broken your trust over and over,
and you still wanna trust me.
i thank you again.
i dont know wat i would have done if you didnt trust me.
im sorry ive done things behind your back,
even though i promised you i would never do them.
im sure you knw but you never said anything.
i wish you would have. it would have saved us all alot of pain
i thank you for never giving up on me.
i dont no how to tell you how much i love you.
mom i love you sooooooo much you wont ever no how much i love u and thank you for everything
Yeah true she might not be flesh of my flesh or a product of my seed, i may not have carried her in my womb for 9 months but that don't mean I didn't succeed. because u will never be more of a mother than I've proven to be. U will never fill my shoes or be able to
Walk the path that I lead. She means more to me then u ever would she will be more of a woman then u ever could. Although we will never have the same blood run through our veins or the same letters spell out our last name, that doesnt make me any less relevant, matter fact just the opposite because that makes me even more prevalent. The fact that I could take on this child with nothing handed to me but a barely empty baby bag but i did it all not for u but because I could never deny a childs innocence because of your stupidness, or neglect a childs needs, the needs that u never could even see. She too nieve to have been brought up any other way then protected and loved and i refused to have her stay wit u and suffer because u didn't have your head right too preoccupied with u and your loser mans life that u didn't appreciate the gift that god gave u in order to change, u threw away the only life line that could ever save your name. If you had done right by her u could of claimed that title but because the worlds drugs and games got the best of u, u will never be entitled. u will never have any rights u will never hurt this child. Because I would die before Id ever let your influence turn her in to a abuser a loser a liar, before she will ever be a whore a freak before u will ever bring her into a world of prostitution and cheats she will never follow in your steps and be so lazy, so your words on me as a person will never faze me cuz I know what I've done I've seen what she came from and I guareentee her life will be a clean one. You will have no part in having her follow in your footsteps by being used and abused by the same type of worthless men that you've fall victim to. Cuz u chose to repeatedly lay on your back and give all the power to a man, rather then have a spine that was worthy to defend. She will never succumb to the same objects of your defeat. She is worthy of so much more than u ever will be. And that's only because she learned how to be a woman from me! U will never be worthy of calling yourself a mother to the smart independent and strong woman, that she will some day grow to be because I take responsibility for that and I only have wishes that she is not like....but yet better than even me. That she never have any needs that she'd have to rely on any one else for, she will never live off the system in order to pay her bills because she will be a well developed perfectly capable and functioning woman living by her own means making her own rules. Cuz I made it all possible I've given her the tools to be able to go out in the world and succeed and never be used, know that she will surpass every bad decision u chose to do. Because after all her real mama didn't raise no fool!
My mother, my grandmother before has always held a place in my heart.
My father, and my grandfather before has the same part.
I was young and very active with unwillingness to listen fully to what they had to say.
I had a problem, never could be solved without my parents and grandparents till today.
With patience they all come to my aid when I fall on my face.
With little dishonor I listen to them and what they had to say, I embrace.
Over the years I go to them with no doubt a feeling of no dismay.
Over the years I go to them and they help me solve problems that to me is O.K.
Now I am getting a bit more aware of what had happen to me when I was growing.
Now I remember how the ride was in my beginning: it was a trial of not knowing.
With the guided words of my parents and grandparents I survive through them all.
With it some being a problem that I remember I recall.
My mother and my grandmother always said to be patient and it will be easy to solve.
My father and my grandfather always knew that I would grow and evolve.
I could wonder everyday what if my parents and grandparents was not in my life.
I could just think that would be fatal like a stab with a knife.
With knowledge that they had past on to me of what they had experience.
With their proof of teachings they had past on to me is their self existence.
Over the years I grew with life so full of happiness that was because of my families love.
Over the years it showed me the path that led me to all the above.
Now cherish those words that help me through my troubles in my new family.
Now I listen to my parents healing words of wisdom and except them gladly.
written 28th oct 2012
You were never seen by us, that privilege sadly was not for us
an extravagance we were overwhelmed by, the thought of your embrace
The entire twelve weeks you were a joy to have known, even 'without' being seen
hearing about you're arrival, was a blessing at the time you were conceived
For life hadn't been easy and we had all asked God, we even plea'd
We wait upon the day, you will finally meet us
having the honour to love and learn with you, saddly not for us
It brakes my heart as you part, you had already embeded love into my heart
Just knowing we will now...forever be kept apart
God has other plans for your love that's so strong, blessing us from the start
we continually pray, maybe he'll deside to let you stay around
But the intense pain of tears and loss, are constantly falling all around
just let it be known, we all desperately wanted you to become part of us
We all will love you for eternity, you are now forever one of us,
although it was only for a very slight second, it was better than never
You are from this day on, embedded into our hearts forever...
the impact you have left 'unborn young one'' my beloved grandchild....
I do not know?
written 10th Aug 2013
I am God's child, first and forever
I am known by many different titles, a daughter
I am a wife
I am a mother
I am a grandmother
I am a poet
I am by several ways, known as a sister
I am an acquaintance
I am a loyal friend
I am a stranger
I am a cousin
I am an Auntie
I am a niece
But who is this person, they all call "Denise?"
She is a child to God
She is a niece
She is a cousin
She is a stranger
She is a loyal friend
She is an acquaintance
She is known to many, a sister
She is a poet
She is a grandmother
She is a mother
She is a wife
She is known as a daughter to many
She is everything, she'd ever dreamed her life to be....
She is happier than she ever imagined possible
SHE IS "DENISE"
Hell hath no replete replica like an Ohiohell
memom memoboys dispelled with lovelessloss lorn laments
measured in misgiven gravid neutral grautities of cool compromised cruel
capsid cascades of dreary demented drowsy dump deep demented deny desires
with wilfull wallowing in unsupposed not to be here
herein two boys born to a numbnuts army husbodad and a
WTF what is happening in/outside this family 50's acircle
what comes next in the uneducated female nonintuition of a
deaddad accidential with a pity piss payoff and a whatdoIdo anal attitude
totally in reverse of an arkansas hope of upheaveal. GDMFSOB, who could I/we haVE
BeeN in the assinine scheme of things with someone in an intersomewhateducated semistate of minimal MFconsciousness. We play the hand we are dealt in the vast unscheme of unness.
WTF, and where/why does God take part and lessen a small boy's dream of donated dadhood by taking it away and leave him left to faulterflounder in a boyhood abyss. Dead, devoid, denied to the manmale circumstance of what the future folds to be delivered to doting descendents, like my three sons. with whom I struggled to
shower, impart, enable, enbibe, instill, foster, enliven, and all that I did not experience yet faux provide with an inner soulsense to a measured milestone of mannered man manufactured love and tendered texture of all mine to give with that that is mustered macro from a micro counteanace of humocapped coperal deliverance. All's fair they say unless u have been there and then it's every man for himself---and then, I dare u to get in my way---------no holds barred, look out for I am a survivor, all the way.
Hi, my name is Dave, and according to my grandparents, I wasn't supposed to live to be raised. Go figure.
I do not know?
someone always told me this with tears in her eyes...
(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)
a wife left South Africa in the 1960’s to join her husband
who was in exile at the time...
in 1970 the husband was sent by the African National Congress to India to be its representative there...
the husband and wife spent two years in Bombay...
one afternoon the husband fell and broke his leg...
the wife knocked on their neighbour’s door, in an apartment complex in Bombay
the neighbour was an old Punjabi lady...
the wife asked the neighbour for a doctor to see to the injured husband...
a Parsi ‘Bone-Setter’ was promptly summoned...
the husband still recalls his anxiety of seeing ‘Bone-Setter’ written on the Parsi gentleman’s bag...
by the way, the ‘Bone-Setter’ worked his ancient craft and surprisingly for the husband, his broken leg healed quite soon...
but still on that day, while the ‘Bone-Setter’ was seeing to the husband...
the wife and the old Punjabi lady from next door got to talking about this and that and where these new Indian-looking wife and husband were from as their accents were clearly not local...
the wife told the elderly Punjabi lady that the husband worked for the African National Congress of South Africa and had left to serve the ANC from exile...
and that they had left their two children behind in South Africa and that they were now essentially political refugees...
the Punjabi lady broke down and wept uncontrollably...
she told the foreign woman that she too had had to leave her home in Lahore in 1947 and flee to India with only the clothes on her back when the partition of the subcontinent took place and Pakistan was formed and at a time when Hindus from Pakistan fled to India and vice versa...
the Punjabi lady then asked the foreign woman her name...
‘Zubeida’, but you can call me ‘Zubie’...
the Punjabi woman hugged Zubie some more, and the two women, seperated by age and geography, wept, sharing a shared pain...
the Punjabi woman told Zubie that she was her ‘sister’ from that day on, and that she felt that pain of exile and forced migration and what being a refugee felt like...
Zubie and her husband Mosie became the closest of friends with the Hindu Punjabi neighbours who were kicked out of Pakistan by Muslims...
then came the time for Mosie and Zubie to leave for Delhi where the African National Congress office was based...
the elderly Punjabi lady and Mosie and Zubie said their goodbyes...
a year or two later, the elderly Punjabi lady’s daughter Lata married Ravi Sethi and the couple moved to Delhi...
the elderly Punjabi lady called Zubie and told her that her daughter was coming to Delhi to live and that she had told Lata, her daughter that she had a ‘sister’ in Delhi...
Lata and Ravi Sethi then moved to Delhi...
This was in the mid-1970’s...
Lata and Zubie became the closest of friends and that bond stayed true, and stays true till today, though Zubie is no more, and the elderly Punjabi lady is no more...
the son and the husband still have a bond with Lata and Ravi Sethi...
a bond that was forged between Hindu and Muslim and between two continents across the barriers of creed and time...
a bond strong and resilient, forged by the pain and trauma of a shared experience...
and that is why, and I shall never stop believing this, that hope shines still, for with all the talk of this and of that, and of that and of this, there will always be a simple woman, somewhere, anywhere, who would take the ‘other’ in as a sister, a fellow human...
and that is why there will always be hope...
hope in the midst of this and of that and of that and of this...
(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)
Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama)
When I met her , a very old lady she was , yet inside lay a frightened child .
I felt my heart cry , I felt as if I was touching history itself , as I made this older lady, child, chai .
I remember the day , and so many tears I have cried
I have cried before she and I met
As a child , so many tears, left confused inside .
Not understanding Why , and how could we stand by and live our lives as if this never happened ?
It happened , we are left in dismay of the movies seen the accounts taken of History
My self ..I have caught stereotyping the very people whom did this to she , the rest of her Family erased .
The white candles we light , we try and forgive , or just simply block this pain out completely.
It occurs , over and over , as it has been said History will repeat .
When thinking of my children , when I think of that little girl losing , cold and scarred , feeling only defeat .
There is a lesson here and I pray , that all whom have been taken from life , have no pain and are gifted spirits throughout eternity . May they be warmed with love, and reunited with the ones they lost .
The first time I met her , her old hand I took and warmed it with mine , I held it for a long time .
You could not, but notice ..the Evil imprinted on skin , the Evil only to remind.
This very old Soul , in her eyes you could see .
The child that once lived , so innocently free, not aware yet, of the Hostility .
I speak of a Little girl, I speak of a old woman , I speak of a Jewish, chosen Religion.
There as I held her frail , old hand , a brand , a number stamped in Evil a long time ago . In 1945 , once in our distant, yet Frightening past .
We should never forget , never forget it happened , never forget all the names .
If we do , we have learned nothing , A World living in Shame .
" Etta Babooshka Kofman "
I do not know?
(for the countless women, names unknown, who bore the brunt of Apartheid, and who fought the racist system at great cost to themselves and their families, and for my mother, Zubeida Moolla)
Pregnant, your husband on the run,
your daughter, a child, a few years old,
they hauled you in, these brutish men,
into the bowels of Apartheid's racist hell.
They wanted information, you gave them nothing,
these savage men, who skin happened to be lighter,
and white was right in South Africa back then,
but, you did not cower, you stood resolute,
you, my mother, faced them down, their power,
their 'racial superiority', their taunts, their threats.
You, my mother, would not, could not break,
You stood firm, you stood tall.
You, like the countless mothers did not break, did not fall.
You told me many things, of the pains, the struggles,
the scraping for scraps, the desolation of separation
from your beloved Tasneem and your beloved Azad,
my elder sister and brother, whom I could not grow
up with, your beloved children separated by time, by place,
by monstrous Apartheid, by brutish men,
whose skin just happened to be lighter.
You told me many things, as I grew older,
of the years in exile, of the winters that grew ever colder.
You were a fighter, for a just cause,
like countless other South African women,
you sacrificed much, you suffered the pangs,
of memories that cut into your bone, your marrow,
you resisted a system, an ideology, brutal and callous and narrow.
Yes, you lived to see freedom arrive, yet you suffered still,
a family torn apart, and struggling to rebuild a life,
all the while, nursing a void, that nothing could ever fill.
I salute you, mother, as I salute the nameless mothers,
the countless sisters, daughters, women of this land,
who fought, sacrificing it all for taking a moral stand.
I salute you, my mother, and though you have passed,
your body interred in your beloved South African soil,
you shall remain, within me, an ever-present reminder,
of the cost of freedom, the struggles, the hunger, the toil.
I salute you!
(for the brave women of South Africa, of all colours,
who fought against racial discrimination and Apartheid)
Gun fire all around, bombs going off in the distance
It was some of the angry mobs and resistance
Father was the king of SafeHaven a small kingdom
Like all other kingdoms it fell in random
Fire started in the castle
And along with it came a battle
It was a distance memory now because the child has now grew
Many things in this child that made memories stew
My name is Mastrey, a young orphan who was there that night
Mastrey saw her in the distance and her father and mother in his sight
Everyone was loud that night and made all the children hide
But that evening Mastrey saw her mother and father die
She ran into the bushes in such a fright
And evil doers were running around with flashlights
Mastrey remember it as he distracted them
Her eyes was so confused with problems
Mastrey new that it was because of what just occurred
His feelings of what those people did was not awkward
The distraction worked, he went back to were she was
Hiding and very scared she was, he asked her, can you trust me just because?
Her answer that night depended on her lively hood
As Mastrey was their with his hand reaching out to her as he stood
Pulling her up from the ground he looked into her eyes that were SeaBlue
Mastrey had made a life long friend and love, She knew it was true
Next: My Story Telling, Who is this Princess
Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama)
The wind blew events all over the place.
Intense emotions and it gave chase.
Lightning lighting to show us the sky.
People try to sleep and not cry.
Wisping by the wind keeps us awake.
The time trying to sleep the storms take.
Chills in everyone gives all shiver.
The clouds surrounded by moonlight is silver.
Heavenly prayers that the rain will stop.
The flood stopped a car the person in it was a cop.
People have seen such devastation.
The road that people made was week in creation.
Rivers near by was over flowing.
Trees that were there was not showing.
By the hour it claimed many.
My father woke up and did not see any.
Floating by was a boat.
Keeping people above water and a float.
My father kept a canoe.
That some day we would use it, that he knew.
Time to paddle up and down the street.
The rain water kept getting on our seat.
It was so dark after the moon was behind the cloud.
Still the noise of thunder still covered the ears loud.
The smell of moist water never seem to go away.
My brothers seem to still sleep anyway.
My head was bobbing up and down.
I was so tired that I could not hear a sound.
The wind blew back and fourth.
It seems that my mom and dad paddle their worth.
Till all the people we saw with grace.
Help us out with embrace.
The time was so late at night.
Everyone was so sleepy and losing sight.
The fight with the weather was so hectic.
The feelings of energy was electric.
Losing to such natural disaster is hard to understand.
When people working hard to block the river with bags of sand.
With hard workers like my mom and dad.
They make things happen that is not bad.
Rough with weather they experience more than ever.
Leaders they are they are very clever.
From the night light of street lights to the morning glow.
The wind did not stop so.
Bringing in more clouds that ill.
The people who were still tired still had will.
The rush of water and waves blasting push the wall side.
Pushing and the force brought water inside.
The battle of our hour was getting long.
Backup people came to aid us was strong.
Rested they were to keep everyone with hope.
The people stopped the water with the strength of rope.
Heavy rain and loss of homes bring people together.
It is kind of sad that this was the only time to gather.
Chaos comes happiness how true.
This is why we are human that gives us a clue.
It is our nature to keep rain falling.
To know when it is time for our calling.
The winds bring such pain and sorrow.
That is why rain sometimes fallow.
A serpent underneath blue sky,
in shade of man, in twinkle of an eye,
above brick wall, in the structure, at the floor,
venom of white dove; contaminated food, undrinkable water,
misguided youth, pregnant daughter, unfaithful father and hateful son,
mothers do pray while we walk through Babylon;
on teli and in the press, on top shells,
price none the less, in bedroom and at your door..
dawn of a new day seemed to be dark,
I cannot get into heaven
God I have tried!
Suicide is a double edge sword
Especially when you survive!
Walking the streets at night
Dazed and confused
Longing to be loved
When is Mum, coming for me?
"Does she still love me?"
"Does she still care?"
"Does she still think of me?"
"Does she wonder, where I am?"
I want her to come find me
I want her to say she 'loves me’
I want her to comfort me
I want her to take me home
And keep me safe
And not forget hat I exist
Like the way she treats me now
I wish God
Could make my Mum
Making this hellish nightmare
On the street
“Send my Mum please!”
So, all this can end!
Before this last ray of hope
Diminishes for good!
I don’t want to become
The walking dead
Forever forgotten as if
I was never born!
For this is the cruel, harsh reality
Of living life, feeling unloved
Uncared for, abandoned,
Left to fend for my own
A dangerous killer inside me
Eating away, at my soul
Something, no one can see
As I suffer in silence
My insides crippling!
Lost, alone and frightened
Weeping on a dirty
Graffiti park bench
Rolling down my cheeks
Stuffing newspapers under my jumper
To keep myself warm
“What am I going to do?”
“Will I make it through the night?”
“Will I get raped and beaten?”
"Will I be left for dead?”
“Will I survive
To see another day?
“Is my life worth living?”
Please God, I beg of you
Have mercy now
Please show me the way!
Dropped out of school
At an early age
Lived on the streets
Because, I disgusted my mother
She thought I was a poor example
Of true Christian beliefs
At an early age
She religiously drummed into me
‘blood is thicker than water’
Here I am today confused, lonely and hungry
No one protecting me
No home to go too
Just, peoples eye for an eye,
tooth for a tooth mentality
Praying for the sun to shine
To feel some warmth again!
Sun rays of hope, lighting me up
To live through this darkness without fear
With a heart full of faith
No matter what happens to me, now!
If only I could drink my salty tears
It would sustain me for a lifetime
Your tears are worth nothing, around here
You’re classed as weak and venerable
Only attracting death
Your life worth nothing!
Save me from myself
I am my best friend
I am my worst enemy
My prayers and dreams
Lost in the wind
Blowing around like autumn leaves
The rain washing them away
Down the drain into the sewage
Rolling with the seasons
Year after year
Survival for the fittest!
Surviving on the love
Hidden, inside me
Being my strength and guide
My personal lifeline
In surviving this crazy world
We all live in
I could recall some years ago
The day that sealed the deeds of the deal
And dot the long journey of nine months
In my calendar of the years
The same brought about the cry
That started the journey of my childhood…
What a honey of motherhood?
An answer to your heart cry
You were assisted and ushered
Into the labor room
Like my savior was accompanied
To Gethsemane and went further
With the burden of sin of perishing souls
He bent His knees in prayers;
He sweated blood
So you lingered 'un-angered'
With the burden of a baby boy
You genuflected in labor
Fear with joy loomed in the air
Swimming in the ocean tides of the clouds
And I could see water dripping
Down your cheeks and nostrils
All because of me
Could I see any one that flogged you?
No! It's I beating you from within
Not with cane but with pains
Like a sheep before its shearer
You journeyed between life and death
All because of me!
It would have been simple if that was all
But I could see
Like two of your younger ones
Even of your daughter's age
Shouting at you
Push! Push! Push!
Else you kill this baby
What ridicule leading a miracle?
All because of me!
Push! Push! Push!
That was their shout and cry
That ushered me into a new world
Right at their ward
That was not because they're wayward
It was a labor room
It was labor for you
That which ignited my favour
What a pain heralding a gain?
But it was like a pay to me
I took it for a ride but
It was mother’s pride and joy
I thought it was play
Until she smacked and spanked me
Yet they succeeded
As they persuaded you and encouraged you
Then and there with flow of water
And pool of blood you pushed forth
And you pushed through.
I thought it was a favour and for my good
Only to see her hand carried me
As if she was all out to help
But it was only to cut the cord
While I held my hands together
Lost in the comfort and dream
Of the cosy womb
She took me out of the comfort zone
She smacks and spanks me
Again, again, and again
She made me to cry and never cared to say sorry
But told stories
He's another boy, she said
Right there she baptized me
Into a new world
She dragged that thing
She called cot to your side
And placed me in it
Alone I was laid crying
And all she did was to laugh at me
Mum. Her white uniform belied her act
Dedicated to V.A Aderounmu.
© Fisayo Aderounmu.2012
It burns and it stings.
More than drowning beneath
More than remaining in a
She hits and I no longer cry.
Why mother, why?
It burned and it stung.
The markings remained,
returned, and were relived
Looking, loving, and little
known loathing were the known
ways of living.
Never was their pity for the
child that cried
Never was their relief for the
child that tried
You were that lovely bird that
understood the complications of
Nothing looked the same in
those dewy browns of yours.
My everbeating would cry tears
The others-they were yet to
Caring Mother, o' so fair
You were that beautiful bird
filled with care.
The others came and were not
alone. Their two suitors sat on
Rampage and rage why did you
I began to wither and wither
slumping along. So very soon I-
the child of fines- became a
The droops of the Lily of the
Valley became the slumping of
My lovely bird the enemy had
taken you and the person you
were is far from near.
For that divine nature left its
intricate self and you became
irretrievable my big bird.
All of your fairness died.
With that went my pride.
Mother, Mother what moved
Your intense spirt vanished only
to supplement a monster.
Mother, Monster and your tar
How did I kill that liver that was
so, so strong?
The lesson of pain was one you
came to learn.
My darling bird why did you
My lovely bird and your big
I'll tell you once, but never
Pain is only a flower for it
blooms and dies
And a mistake can be killed as
quickly as lice.
You dear bird hurt me well.
Though, haven't you heard?
Weakness is a souls greatest
You brought me up, then you
brought me down.
You haved helped, hurt, and
hindered my blazing spirit.
A hero in my heart-I left you
down in your deep black
Escaping those terrible nights
To go for the town of delights.
Over your head is a shining light,
Oh mother Mary what a blissful sight.
You came to the world to bless us all,
You brought a son to save the world.
You appear to the sick to give them hope,
To bless them and comfort their soul.
So gentle mother Mary, please bless me
And my family in this life’s journey.
A journey of hope that the ever lasting place
Is a better place for us all.
Please mother Mary help the sick,
Heal them with your blessings this i wish.
I kiss the ground where you walked,
The land of the Cedars that stood so tall.
You are there in every place,
On our hearts we engraved your face.
Let`s go black in time
Come with me black to history
Black to the mother land
Where we rightfully belong
Black in time before the Europeans
Tried to whitewash our
Skins and minds
Black to the kingdom and ancestry
Black, way black before slavery
Black am I
Not just the color of my skin
The pupil of my eyes or the hair on my head
But black at heart, black in my thinking
And black in my thoughts
Black in time
Black my story, every sentence, every line
Black every rhythm and every rhyme
Black the days on their slave ships
Heading across the ocean lines
Black the shackles and the chains
Black the whips that cut our veins
Black the blood that stained the lands
Black the heart of every whiteman
Black the husbands and the wives
Black the circumstances which changed
Black the mother and the father
Black the separation from each other
Black, black, black, black
Black the struggles and the fights
Black the system which took away
Black the midnights we tried to make
Black the rope on the tree that hung the ones
Who wished to be free
Black, black, black, black
Let`s go black and turn the world around
Let`s take black our civilization
Every continent and every nation
Let`s take black the white man`s dominion
Let`s take black our rightful rulership
No more subjection under
The whiteman`s dictatorship
Let`s black out the pages
of the white man`s days
And attribute the praises
to the black liberal race
Black my eyes and the things they see
Black the visions of those who preceded me
Black Marcus, Selassie and Mandela
Black Obama and the Christ
Black the life I live because of their sacrifice
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
however big and bold,
that is what I may well of been told,
in this life of old.
Trying to awaken my consciousness,
for I must be comatosed,
surely I am not in the living world,
my head must be in the clouds.
I wake up in a sweat,
not knowing what has just happened,
it all seems so surreal,
do I stand in judgement or appeal.
Piecing together my thought processes,
was it a dream or a reality,
wishing, thinking of my grandmother watching over me,
sending me a sense of calm and peace.
I will stay with that thought,
that beautiful vision,
of my grandmothers mission,
to deliver peace and harmony to a muddled brain.
I stumble upon a river
the way it flows and feels
I take my shoes off and run threw it
laughing looking up towards the sun
I wake up and it was all just a dream
my sister runs up the stairs
she slams her door
i asked her what was wrong
she looked at me
She says "mom told me you were adopted"
at first i laughed as i thought it was a joke
I run downstairs to see my mom and dad sitting on the couch
"mom?" i say
she replies "its true we adopted you!"
she got up and walked into the kitchen
"after all this time i thought i was yours" i say
My father gets up and walks out the door
My mom lays her hand on her forhead
Just dont worry about it everything will be okay
"No it wont i say"
i felt fake like i wasnt who i was suppose to be
i just sat on my bed thinking about the whole thing
my whole life and who i should have been
I packed my bags that light and i ran away
leaving the less important things behind
i set out on a journey to find my real parents
I had my sister get there info. from my dads office
I took a bus to indiana and looked up there address
As soon as i found it i knocked on the door
A man opened the door
he said "who are you?"
i say "apparently i am your son?!"
"you put me up for adoption?" i repeat
He yells "ANNA!?, Some kid is here for you!"
i repeat the story to her as she denied it
She looked bruised and beaten up
I wanted to help her but the man hut the door on my face
I had no where to go now
So i started on a journey back home
But i never made it there
I found that old river i use to go too
i stayed there for a few weeks until
i remembered the way back.
I found myself that day
I realized that i was fake but now im not because i know that i am just me not any of them
I do not know?
For Mother Teresa
the clarity of beauty between the murky folds of life
the simple truths of living
between the horror and the endless strike
the innocent smiles of the children at play
while the elder preach hate and division and continue to slay
the endless yearning for that simpler better place
away from the hollow emptiness of this ostentatious space
the open vistas of this pale blue dot
the soft reds and fruity greens as this home is all we have got
the tears of the dispossessed who have been cruelly cast aside
and while we look the other way from their tears we may never hide
the endless hunger and despair and killing and greed
in the name of God or of ideology or of some or the other creed
and to see it all
and still stand tall
to hold on to the humanity
that resides deep within us all
may be our only saving grace
and though all of this sounds quaint and saccharine sweet
I need to remember all that I've said
the next time I look into a teary-eyed desolate face
that being human is simple if we only look beyond ourselves and see
that we are all one, him and her and them and us and you and me...
Why do tears caress your soft face so frequently?
Why is it that when you cry and let out a large scream,
Which resonates from deep in your heart do you feel relief?
Why can you not find the arms of a mother or a lover who can give you the same relief as that scream? Where you born to wonder alone?
A lone being that has given all
Only to find that you have given a little too much and are now left bare.
No-one had requested that you commit to such a feat;
No-one had expected you to give it all
How can you not blame yourself when you find that you have nothing left?
When you find that all has been given and no-one is willing to share?
The cry is God given
When a child cries their protector responds and tries to put right.
The cry is not to be left unattended.
When you become of age however your protectors’ take on different forms,
A mother becomes a lover
And your tears are now for yourself.
Where are your protectors?
You frantically search for them but only find mocking…
You are of age now and your cries will be left unattended.
The shore is what I have seen since I was little
when I grew up it was so far in the distance to see.
Walking the distance when I was a child I was so brittle
to notice the path was so warn out to me.
The little strides I took was not so bad
it was just how it ended up when my mother had my hand.
She pointed out to the horizon to make me glad
that I could look out and see the sand.
The look in her eyes was so beautiful
it was one of those moments that can be captured.
My mother showed me the path and told me to be careful
to not worry about the pain she pictured.
The final walk up to get home was a bummer
because it was the sign that ended my time their.
My time at the beach and the sea was the end of summer
that is when I said, I will be back I swear.
The path might be warn more and more out
even when time passes and when I get older.
My memories of my mother and I will last with out a doubt
with time I get smarter and much bolder.
MY WINNING CENTURY POEM!
-Dharga Nagar Safa
One hundred runs in just an hour,
In the funny game of cricket,
One hundred years-
8,76,000 hours in the game of life,
My prayers for my mother,Sahidiya,to live long a century!
Every letter,every word,every sentence,every paragraph....
Of my poems from the womb of my mother,
The drops of ink wetting a small piece of paper,
Injected in me with her breast,
She carried me and brought down guiding to carry on in life,
It carried me to the World that you dreamt,today,
My Ma!,look,where I am now?
At the center of the Globe carrying you in a poem,
May it a success and may it a failure,
My carrying you in my poem,is a win for me!
I took a walk down memory lane,
My heart reliving the scenes
I visited with loved ones now gone
The ones I see in my dreams.
Each picture tugged at my heart
Some even brought down a tear
I felt a special kind of glow
For I felt each loved one near.
There was my mother alive and well
I felt the warmth of her arms
I knew that I had been loved
And kept safe from all harms.
I took a walk down memory lane...
I held my baby girl tight
She was fast asleep on my chest
Unafraid of the dark night.
The man of my dreams was there
Back when passion meant fire
I stared at his youthful face
Was once more filled with desire.
Tonight I walked down memory lane
The journey was ever sweet
I saw myself as I had been
Oh, it was such a joyous treat!
One day I’ll reach the end of the lane
That lane that is called life
And I’ll look out from a picture
A smiling mother and wife
And when she looks at my picture
I hope my daughter will smile
Remembering that she was loved
Which makes life’s journey worthwhile.
I do not know?
For a Mother.
she left me
with only the thoughts of her embrace to warm me
in frigid mornings of tomorrows yet to come
she left me
with her words of tender truths to shroud me
in the coming evenings of stabbing sleet and hail
she left me
yet she stays forever within me
in my waking dreams
and in my restful thoughts
she stays forever within me
she remains an abiding part
of the love
and never shall we be
Darkness broke against the
shimmering, bleeding-out sky
as the sun, descending back
to its ebony prison.
We two sitting enjoying
Nog and Chai, speaking
pondering of life the
meaning, the confusion
of memories molding
clay upon the spinning
wheel, churning mankind
into a form from
feet fist, usually
head proceeding down
to the slanting point
us the lessons of life
the best teacher the
one without judgment
letting us grow and
learn, the best guide allowing
us to experience it all
all adding to the moment
of who we are, all adding
to the reality that is us
We share with each other
these lessons, for we
too are teachers and
students to each other
All in one, one in all
From Cafe we sit
to icy darkness we stand
our breathes heard by ear
seen moving upwards by eyes
All truths revealed
of who we are, what we
learned and where we plan
on going. This journey
is one we need not
travel alone. Having a
good companion is just
as important as having
a backpack, rations
that sturdy canoe
we use these items
so often. The canoe
especially, its floating
mass taking us along
the river. Our Journey
filled with harsh winds
hail and rain. As we
grasp the floating emptiness
alone and frighten, the
rocking reminding us of
the cradle, but Mother
is absent, replaced by
the Mother of all. Nature
at her mercy, her
all-powerful grasp. This is
what we learned that
night against immature
car-filled hooligans, two
mature beyond age pairing
sages. That throughout
life we are faced by
many stepping stones
along the riverbed
yet we, along this course
can find comfort banding
together to get our
poetry heard, or voices and
minds accepted. Go!
Go together, all in one
one in all, strength in
numbers. Building our
home together, our Buddha
Lotus, our Grand Mosque
our Mecca of results
of our Poetic Journey
down the river of time.
Since childhood I’ve dreamed of having a happy family,
I’ve dreamed of seeing my other siblings in harmony;
Like seasons of the year where changes can be seen,
Similar to our human experience dubbed with ups and downs.
As a child I experienced the pain of losing my loved ones,
especially my own father who I never saw when he passed away;
He’s far away, confined in the hospital with my older brother.
I cried so hard, went to my parents’ room and blamed God.
It was one of the great storms that knocked us down,
my own mother had all the responsibilities to shoulder;
She brought us up with all the sufferings and pains
She bore with them like a humble servant of all.
My mother’s mother continued to support us in many ways,
She became part of our disciplined Christian formation;
Her love for us was like a gauge of a mother’s love,
with interiority of faith and mission to think about the poor.
Her role model in our family became a challenge for me.
She impressed in my mind how to live as a responsible man;
given the chance to explore my life in the world of today,
undaunted by fear; encouraged by those who really dream.
The painful spike in our journey as fatherless in the family,
was the tragedy of envy and hatred that truly ruined us;
Yet with an attitude of love and forgiveness deep inside,
I would say that God never sleeps - to be of help to us.
Along with my family relations who came into the picture,
their soaring irritation and impatience to assist us heretofore,
Just a lesson, a part of history that makes me recall in prayer,
a gateway to reconciliation, a ministry to those in trouble.
As themes on faith, knowledge, love and oneness with God
continue to be the revelations of Christ in our journey as persons;
I feel that he’s never written in straight lines but rather in crooked ones,
some of them are our own lines and living witnesses in this world.
I really miss my own mother, my own father: my parents,
in spite of their weaknesses and shortcomings as human beings,
Their love and sacrifices for their children never failed,
because they’re sibling souls who knew about God’s love for all.
I do not know?
Starting from scratch has never felt so Good
I’ve been from the Burbs and now my life’s the Hood
Blessed needless to say- this journey has been one for the Record
I’ve been pushed/ pulled/ torn but not Broken
Im taking lifes trials and tribulations as a Golden Token
I’ll allow the things I go through in life to make me Better
If that means I have to go through the storm to get to pleasant Weather
I’ve learned to let go which is the hardest thing I’ve had to Do
But I owe my life to God, not the family or even to You
I am a woman with newly discovered Worth
This journey I’ve taken has been filled with so much Hope
The light of Life is now burning so Bright
Took a lifetime of trials for me to get it Right
Now I have God on my side and my Strength is Greater
My Inspiration is from a close friend who is a single mother raising her kids with
her faith in GOD.
ON AUGUST 29,1966 GOD GAVE LIFE TO A LITTLE GIRL NAMED J.Elaine A., AS
SHE WOULD GROW GOD HAD PLANNED OUT HER LIFE,EVERY MOVE
WOULD BE HER STEPS TO LEARNING, SOME STEPS WOULD BE GREAT
OTHERS SAD,SOME EASY WHILE OTHERS WOULD MAKE HER FALL,BUT NO
MATTER WHAT THRU HER FAITH AND HER LOVE FOR HER FATHER GOD
SHE WOULD STAND UP BRUSH HERSELF OFF AND CONTINUE HER
JOURNEY AS SHE GREW OLDER THE STEPS BECAME FURTHER APART THE
LIFE,RELATIONSHIPS,AND LOVE NOW HAVE TWIST AND TURNS BUT FROM
THIS JOURNEY BLOOMED FOUR ROSES THREE PINK,ONE BLUE,GOD HAD
BRITHED THRU HER HIS KIDS FOR HER TO TEACH ALL THAT SHE HAS
LEARNED AND WILL CONTINUE TO LEARN,AS SHE WALKS FORWARD ON
THIS JOURNEY LOCKING AWAY IN HER MIND THE MEMOIRS OF HER PAST
HER JOURNEY IS ROUGH AT TIMES BUT THE ROADS ARE NOT AS BAD AS
THEY ONCE WERE OCCASIONALLY THERE ARE SPEEDBUMPS TO TELL HER
TO SLOW DOWN AND SEE ALL THE THINGS THAT HAVE BEEN
ACCOMPLISHED TO RELAX AT TIMES AND TAKE IN ALL THAT GOD HAS GIVEN