Best Cornrows Poems

I once heard the whisper of falling snow,
saw a spark in the eye of a coal-black crow,
felt the power and awe of a swift river's flow,
the older I get, the less I know.

My hair was once braided in golden cornrows,
by Jamaican friends in an island...

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The hair sits on my head like it's a throne
And I'm a heir to the heritage
Generations of my people passed this 
crown on to me 
You may call it nappy but don't sleep on
my royalty
I'm king-sized, never belittling myself of 
feeling ashamed for the way...

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Groves,
parallel patterned rows
(hardly higher than bushes),
dot and stretch up hillsides,
looking from a distance
much like cornrows
on the tight tan scalps
of hip young New York
subway riders.
Luscious fruits,
at closer range,
mimic setting suns
boldly drawn in crayon:
oranges evoke essence,
name their own color....

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My hair fills the circumference of itself
And takes up space with little help
It goes the only way it knows
In tightly bound cornrows 

In church the preacher talks about my hair
To entertain everyone there
Saying 'comb out your unchristian naps!'
Someone says 'Amen' and claps

I cannot change the...

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Fox Hunting

She turns tail to snake through the dust,
parting orderly heads of corn,
breathing heat and eating dark
On her way to escape—she hopes—
from the fox chasing her (a rabbit).
She knows this place and can’t be lost

in place; once she lost
a little cottontail in the dust
To a...

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I raced through my chores, braided my hair in cornrows
Meticulously washed my body, daub the back of my ears
The insides of my elbow, and my wrist, with my then cheap perfume
There my pulse beat, no longer fluttering like a butterfly
But racing away at 5 horsepower...

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Remnants of Winters tendrils
reside upon the bare basalt cliffs.
Cornrows of ice cascade
washed by relentless rain.

Down pours the mana
of Spring, the Bride,
berating the laggard Winter;
expunging the beauty of ice.

The sunless muted morn aids
Winters grip on its crowning glory;
braiding wayward wisps of white
into crevasses.

The last, lingering, lustful
remainders...

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The Lip Gloss question of the day is "What do I know about you?"
Can't really say -- everyday, I see something new.
It could be hat, wig, cornrows, or weave,
Don't matter which, I gotta have me a look-see.
It could be Fendi, Gucci, or knock-off imitation,
Don't matter...

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Look thou up again for the rain clouds gather
Thou hast seeded with vapor of tears 
Art thou soon weary gazing upon heaven?
And thy hope eaten up by needless cares?

Come thee away from whence I call to smell the rain
Hear the thunders grumble for how long...

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Torn, tattered, tainted,
my Book of Shadows

Travels with me,
from cities to meadows

Drawings included;
demons and rainbows

Spells introduced,
between haystacks and cornrows

Too frequented to be dusty,
fingerprints galore

Weathered in delight,
my personal grimoire 

Some may find it spooky,
but to me, I adore

Empty pages wait for me,
what do they have in store


Tuesday,...

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i used to
walk the
cornrows
shooting
mourning
doves as
they flew
out as
fast as
clay pigeons

now my eyes
are following
the cornrows
of her hair
from fore
head to
nape
like
following
a maze but

not wanting 
to escape
so by
braiding
ex
tensions
ex
tend
my 
stay...

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i used to
walk the
cornrows
shooting
mourning
doves as
they flew
out as
fast as
clay pigeons

now my eyes
are following
the cornrows
of her hair
from fore
head to
nape
like
following
a maze but

not wanting 
to escape
so by
braiding
ex
tensions
ex
tending
my 
stay...

Continue reading...

marauding foxes  
mutilating fruit
minutemen mischief-makers
marching upon us

pick our pockets
laugh at our loss
   
“No mangoes for sale”

maimed, mangled, mashed
sweetness shamed  
to death
ants and gnats feasting
off illicit mango chutney

sly scamps
evade 
like Bolt-pace
their intake 
of fruit sugars  
insufficient for catching  
robust diabetes
enfeebling...

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If our hair was on trial
And it was called to testify
And tell the truth
Of what the world put it through

It tells the stories
Of all the hairstyles
That it was

It starts with when it was cornrows
It takes the jury back to the fields
Where the blistering heat
Sucked the...

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