Details |
Trella Davis Poem
Choices
What does my choices say about me?
Life was hard and I still had to make choices..
Coming home seeing my father Wondering where his wife was all night,
Or choices to watch my mom come home drunk and high knowing my dad had to go to work..
Listening to the arguing and fighting
Because my mom refused to be a mom..
Standing in court watching my mom an dad battle a divorce because my mom didn't want to grow up...
The choice of now being a kid
Watching my mom party all day..
Strange men in and out of our house..
Because my dad was no longer mentally equipped to deal with raising his kids alone..
Watching my father now live life in a decline mentally dying slowly from
The rath my mother bestowed upon him..
Then living alone with the one absent parent that chooses partying over being a parent..
The choice of living with a parent that was never there when you needed them..
The choice of growing up too fast then becoming a parent yourself..
Walking a thin line of what would have or could have been different in your choices..
Accepting your choices and choosing to raise your kids..
Accepting the obstacle of being a single parent with both parents was not easy..
But with a strong will you make it possible...
The choice of saying good bye to an abusive counterpart while moving on to the one glimpse of happiness...
The choice of moving on and raising your babies alone...
Then the financial choice of working any odd job to support your children..
The choice of leaving no stone unturned when it comes to the life of your children..
The choices and consequences of letting the wrong people share your life..
The choices of struggling because no job was enough...
The choice of crying at night worrying about bills and praying to God for some form of relief...
The choice of growing up
Changing your life in an attempt to live the dream you were destined to live..
The choices of dealing with the very grown children you gave your life up for
Be the very people judging and hating you..
Choices...
Copyright © Trella Davis | Year Posted 2023
|
Details |
Trella Davis Poem
Eyes open, Mouth yarns,
Arm stretched.
Yet, my feet haven't touched the ground.
Heart beats, Ears itch.
Still mustering up the energy to put my feet on the ground.
Sun shines in between the lines of the blinds
Feeling refreshed
Another strong day,
So, get up!
Another day alive
Get up!
No more yarning and stretching.
Now my eyes are open wide
One foot on the floor
The second foot soon falls behind
Reach up to give thanks to
The ability to still rise...
So wake up and stand up
No matter the stress
Get up and stand up
Walk strong and continue to
Do your best.
Even when it gets hard
Remember to get up and stand up,
And let god do the rest..
Copyright © Trella Davis | Year Posted 2023
|
Details |
Trella Davis Poem
Weeping willow,
Oh, how I cry.
Weeping willow,
protect and be my guide.
Weeping willow,
Show the world's love.
Weeping willow,
Oh how you sway.
Weeping willow,
you feel our pain.
Oh, Weeping tree
you remind me of me.
My tears fall down like your
majestic leaves.
Elongated from out of the earth,
like when I gave birth,
birth to a child.
Your leaves give buds.
Yeah, with a vibrant fuzz.
Down your leaves hang.
Like my hair with bangs.
With chaos around you stand
firm from the ground.
Letting me believe that peace
can still be found.
Oh, what stories are hidden in your
bark.
Souls that are sunken into
your heart.
Spiritual like glue.
Only the birds knew.
You're my highlight of
early spring.
Your yellow flowers make me sing.
You sway with a slight whisper.
You are my true photosynthesis sister.
Weeping willow,
Oh, how I cry.
Weeping willow,
protect and be my guide.
Weeping willow,
Show the world's love.
Weeping willow,
Oh how you sway.
Weeping willow,
what more can I say.
Weeping willow tree
your beauty I see.
There's sadness in your
stems.
Makes your limbs dim
and though your tree spans
out wide.
Spirits of those lost are deep inside.
Timeless you are.
Southern is your history.
Weeping willow, yes you are.
A staple of hope,
where hearts take
hold of your roots.
Your buds are the fruit.
Roots that expand
around you I see them stand.
Gathered around you singing
and holding hands.
Weeping willow,
Oh, how I cry.
Weeping willow
protect and be my guide.
Weeping willow,
Show the world's love.
Weeping willow,
Oh how you sway.
Weeping willow,
You feel every part of our pain.
connected at your roots.
standing in spiritual boots.
rising with such passion.
without chains,
just broken shackles.
Copyright © Trella Davis | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Trella Davis Poem
Africa is my frequency.
I hear her calling every night I sleep.
Africa flows through my veins.
The mother of lions on open plains.
A place filled with all my people.
A continent full of exquisite beauty.
Alive with a rich culture.
Alive with spiritual art and sculptures.
In my dreams I see me there.
feeling the warm wind through my hair.
Dreaming of where my ancestors once
was.
An awakened heart filled with love.
I dream of you every night.
and every night I see the light. (the light)
A light filled with my ancestors
walking through the Serengeti.
behind them I see a pride.
My ancestors are my guide
dreams of Africa every night
and every night I see the light.
A rich history that can't compare.
With vibrant fabric and original hair.
A connection to the cosmos
from the past.
Dreams that show the Dogon tribe
colorful and glad.
I feel like they can see me.
This dream makes me feel like a ghost.
Seeing them there awakens me the most.
Foods that explode your palette.
Cultural dances with so much talent.
I see this life ahead of me.
Africa is where I want to be.
I jolt awake from my dream with
sand on my feet.
With tribal drums and a rumbling beat.
This was more than a vivid dream,
I knew I was there.
With so much sand still in my hair.
I dream of you every night.
And every night I see the light.
The light filled with my ancestors
Walking through the Serengeti.
Behind them I see a pride.
My ancestors are my guide.
Dreams of Africa every night,
and every night see the light.
I feel you flowing through my veins,
Im calling you, Africa
Hey, Africa.
Copyright © Trella Davis | Year Posted 2026
|