Details |
Lasheda Wallace Poem
Kerry- 18 y/o male of mixed descent, sits at his desk in his dorm room and pens a letter to his dad.
Dear Mom, (Rips paper out of notebook and balls it up)
Kerry
Dear Dad,
Not to long ago you asked me why I no longer speak to you. I remember seeing you with this guy. I remember seeing him move his lips. I remember seeing you punch him in the chest. Then I heard what you told him. You called him scum and you spit in his face. I wanted so badly to know what this guy had said to make you disappear and have this stranger appear. What did this normal looking guy or……just human being say to you to turn you into a monster? Huh, Dad? I remember running into this guy and he remembered me. I asked him what went wrong! What did he say to you! He said: Dear Dad, I’m gay! And when I told you this, you called me scum and spit in my face. I don’t talk to you because all gay people are contagious and I’m afraid you will contract what I have. LOVE!
Copyright © Lasheda Wallace | Year Posted 2015
|
Details |
Lasheda Wallace Poem
Birthed by a stranger whom I’d never met
Held by a family that I had never seen
I could only imagine who I would become
Never could I foresee what I would be deemed
Never could I run and play like a normal child
Because I was not born to a familiar face
Hurt greeted me in the form of memories
So I had to confront hurt everyday
The search was on to find my beginnings
I had lost them in my end
I was told not to be proud of who I was
Because of the color of my skin
Who are you to tell me I’m beautiful
I will not accept that praise
I was born into a ring of fire
My confidence was set ablaze
No one there to filter my speech
So I often spoke alone
White and black only made sense to me
As I watched ink mate with paper in my home
I taught myself to listen vividly
To hear the caged bird sing
I heard the profoundness of her cry
And her praise for the little things
Someone told me I was great
And I believed half to wonderful
I had to simply correct that compliment
And remind them that I was phenomenal
I came to birth as I once was
But something felt different
Doctor told me only of one
But out came millions
Black and white greeted me again
As I hugged my paper and pen
I wanted all my children to feel my love
So I wrote it out and sent them my greatest hug
Don’t cry for my life, Don’t cry for me
I have lived……and still will my legacy
Copyright © Lasheda Wallace | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Lasheda Wallace Poem
Dana (23 y/o girl, very wise) speaking to a crowd at open mic night.
Dana: Hmmpph.....What is love? Love is just this word that people can't pronounce so they misconstrue the meaning. Love is actually a five letter word but no one ever puts enough effort into it so they just stop at four. Love is this daunting thought that we never say out loud and that's why we don't know it. It's foreign! Love is the uncontrollable tremor in our left hand that we hide because we are embarrassed by it. Love is the diagnosis that we have never been waiting for. It is the breaking of a fingernail, at it's root, near the skin. Love is an arduous task that we put off because, well.....it's arduous. Love has no letters, it has numbers. Numbers are complicated! And Love is......
In the end, LOVE is just a feeling. A repetitive feeling! An unknown feeling! A feeling that.....changes without warning.
Love is just a feeling. And I have never felt the same thing twice!
Copyright © Lasheda Wallace | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Lasheda Wallace Poem
Greeted by an alarm clock that deafen my ears
Stretching to make an 180 degree alignment with my arms
Sweet sounds of chirping birds are joyous to hear
As I birth life with fire from my yawn
I sit up and examine the entire room
Looking for something new to appear
A picture of an African Queen stares at me with gloom
As my heart is suddenly filled with a gist of fear
I am alone in my own thoughts, left to drown
Deep breaths seclude me from the walking dead
My thoughts come to a halt, they slow down
As I am quarantined by myself from the thoughts in my head
The clock has struck 8 and I’m trapped in a stance
My mind has begun to play tricks on me
Time has escaped me and has entered the kingdom
As I then prepare to lessen my freedom
Copyright © Lasheda Wallace | Year Posted 2016
|
Details |
Lasheda Wallace Poem
Drowning.....From the surface
Too much contaminated freedom
So many panicking responsibilities
I can't catch my breath
My arms flail
As I lift them in the air
I have given up
My organs have failed
Under the surface I go
And I open my eyes
Seclusion is extinct
A revelation to my mind
Lungs filling to capacity
With all of life's burdens
I try to hold on
But it adds more worries
Feet at the bottom
Something feels different
I can only live freely
At the bottom of the ceiling
Copyright © Lasheda Wallace | Year Posted 2016
|