I'm a Growing Woman

PAD Challenge Day 29: Write a The Last "Blank" poem. The Last Good Girl I used to feel like the last girl good standing until I met other good sisters like me. You know the ones that had mothers and grandmothers that clothed us in sophistication; Ordered us to not just sit pretty but to revolve like the Earth around the sun; Implanted knowledge in our gray matter for better yellow days ahead; Marked our foreheads with holy oil to keep the lurking demons away so they couldn't steal what has been stolen in their youth; Gifted us Precious Moments to remind us our precious and young we truly were; Passed down wisdom like soul food recipes and great-great-great grandmother's Princess rings and brooches; Outlined their flaws like laws for us to memorize and fear to commit; Told us if a man couldn't see us during the day, he wasn't worth seeing late at night; Showed us their bucket of tears after ungodly days and nights; Demonstrat

PAD Challenge Day 28: Write a sight poem. See Saw I love when you and I sit eye to eye without seeing doubles so that we can see through what we saw in us and others. Every so often, we may not see eye to eye in this universe but we see it thru and all the eyeful of things, whether together or apart. Through our lows and highs; you see me as I see you. And still, as I see you, you see me. Without excessive force on us, we see clearly ahead without losing sight of each other or seeing over one's head just to keep this love thing balanced out. D'ElegantOne

PAD Challenge Day 27: Write a remix poem. Prose Remix What kind of poet would I be if prosed but not performed? What good would the content be if I let it rest in print? No memories of lyrical imagery and storytelling  full of guiding light, when all I have to do is double my courage, meet and greet the mic  and  suit up in rhythm to let my love for poetry pump outside  parallel lines. D'ElegantOne

PAD Challenge Day 26: Write a love and/or anti-love poem. Red Roses You planted twelve in my hand, I returned seven because all you ever given me was more than a half of your love without a demand or a query. Black Orchids I don't want us to be hated by them anymore. I don't want us to show hate to us anymore. Haven't we suffered enough? Haven't we perished enough? Haven't we flooded streets like rivers from crying too much? With little rain, sun and soil left, Isn't it time to respect our roots? Isn't it time to appreciate our seeds? Isn't it time to nourish and heal our stems? Isn't it time to flower ourselves ahead of four seasons? Isn't it time for everyone to love us just for our lucky seven sepals? Our black Lives Our black Skin Our black Hair Our black Features Our black Culture Our black History Our black Excellence The way they are..... D'ElegantOne

PAD Challenge Day 25: Write a response poem. SMS I'm too grown for mixed feelings and mixed vibes. I rather have mixed drinks then to undergo a mix up with what you're not sure of, where you wanna be, what you want, what you need, and with whom or where the conversation  is not flowing so easily  and you and your effort is a no show. It can't be that  hard to reply before you hear little today and go silently more tomorrow where your quality  time has low quantity. Questions unanswered. Special days forgotten like 30 days old passwords. And I'm left feeling like my feelings are filling up dark circles before the lights of you. So, I have to withdraw from replying to you. If I wanna go back and forth, like I can't read  what was read, I'll stand in a mirror and play charades alone. With that said, here is my last text, so long! D'ElegantOne  

PAD Challenge Day 24: Write a superhero or supervillian poem. My Sheroes My superheroes did not inherit capes nor could they fly but they were fly in their ebony skin of all shades. They produced sweet black fruit from their own roots. They were first of many  and second to none. They wore braids as symbols of their heritage, status, and African tribes; Rocked afros as their standard of beauty and black pride; Doobie curls and pressed tresses when addressing the world they didn't choose to live and defend; Locs as a rebel of strength, spirituality, and power; Headwraps to protect their crown under the sun or before they laid their heads down after celebrating the love for being nubian. Their superpowers were transcendence and resilence. Their voices stretched higher then their raised clenched fists. They were more than power to the people. They were fresh flesh and bones waterhosed down and spit on at sit-ins where they marched and fought for freedom, ju