I'm a Growing Woman

  Toodles to 2022: What to Leave or Not to Leave As we approach the deadline of an existing year, we always hear, see it shared and shared again amongst the feed of our social media accounts or we may even wonder ourselves, “What are we leaving behind?”. So, I questioned myself, “What am I leaving behind in 2022?”. Hmm. With no scientific hypothesis or elongated deliberation, I’d say nothing and no one —only the 365 days and 8,760 hours that are impossible for me to relive. I have my heart and mind, beautiful storage of collective memories, to recap the little pain and disappointments underneath over-weighted joy that the best of this life can bring. I have 1,901 Google photos, 230 videos and 8 new contacts to tell me the new and old places I’ve been, the new and old people I’ve seen and all the new things I’ve done. Countless invitations and a list of no’s, disregards and yes’s to jog my memory about my purpose and principles here on earth. Deep down inside, I wanted to add my

PAD Challenge Day 30: Write a moving on poem. TimePiece If I was time, I'd move the way it moves. Digitally and circular motion I'd groove nonchalantly through the days of your lives. You'll look up, see me in a different zone or gone. Wasted or not, I'd still be precious to your God given sunrises and sunsets, the sweetest taste between your dear life and death. Keep you thinking of me. Keep you wishing  you could turn  my hands back  for another time. Keep you wanting synchronization in all of your daily intervals. Keep you arranging your life around my ticks and my tocks. Keep you watching me until the day you cherish me for all the times I'd passionately extended my seconds for a few minutes just to donate hours for you to excuse yourself from ole' past times and grow with me. Or will you assemble more excuses in this present time? Knowingly, knowing that I can run out on you, without you ever counting on me

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