Writingpoetry - Blog Posts
Teaching in 2020
Second grade was hard enough
The seconds turn into hours
Screens turn to staff as
Students turn their screens on and off
Teaching students slipping out of their chairs at home
Teaches us what we thought we already learned
Too raw is the view into the houses of inner-city youth
Exposed to their reality; my past too.
When the day is over, we rub our burning eyes
We say it is easy when we are pioneers
Fighting our exhaustion and creeping mental instability
Has us fighting our love for our career.
Snow on Poetry Lane
Down University Avenue,
Past the Cub Foods
And the Caribou coffee
Lies Poetry Lane
The words are etched
Onto immoveable concrete
A community’s love bared to the world
Yet the sky tests the citizens,
Opening a flurry of thick flakes
Fitting to the compressed letters
Slowly taking up space.
The prose stands out in white
Glittering under streetlamps
And porch lights.
Feet clad protectively shuffle along the lane
Pausing at the words
Before stepping
Unreading
Packing the snow in deeper.
Gobs of white yet fall
Burying Poetry Lane
Burying the hearts of those
Brave enough to cement the truth
Until one gloved hand
Warmly brushes aside the blanket
Shedding light on the community, and
Poetry Lane, at least for a moment.
Banana Skirt
Young with fruitful purpose
Blossoming into words-
“I am Woman”
Grown from the seeds of home
Born fruitfully endowed into trial
With berries of milk
Leaves of pink
Curves of bursting corn
“I, a black Woman”
My skin, a peeling
Covering the buds
Blossoming into overt
Speech against the weeds
Who pretend to be flowers
Occluding to capitalize on Sun
Too young
To understand there is enough
For me, too.
~ quill rose
I want to text you and tell you that i miss you but my pride won't let me 💔
