I'm a Growing Woman

Wednesday's Poetry Prompt: Write a departing poem. From Pain to Peace  I wish heaven had an AOL, an angels online network  or a direct landline to you  like 1-800- MissYou  because I really do miss you. I wouldn't dare be a bug-a-boo,  but I would call or scribe  a few words to you... Ask about your eternity trip  from pain on earth to peace in heaven. I already know your departure time. I just wanna know your ETA  to the heavenly gates. Is there one or two entrances or more? Who really sits by the door? Did a sweet chariot really swing low? Was the chauffeur polite to you? Did you ride alone or did your soul  hop scotch down the rainbow  that sat outside your hospital's window?  Did God send your sisters and brother  to meet you halfway  And y'all danced like Soul Train again- this time by colors  one after another  until you electric slide yourself into heaven? Did your face give birth to a sun  that I can...

Wednesday’s Poetry Prompt: Write an “I Can Blank” poem. i can remember these days I can remember seeing you in ICU Singing Hey Nana to your ears for your eyes to consciously find me at the left or right side of your hospital bed I can remember praying  that this won’t be the last time Praying for more time because this isn’t how September '26 was suppose to end Praying harder because  I know a time like this ain't forever I can remember from the window  of the 7th floor  a rainbow leaping and loping  across the sky of Fayetteville  no rain in sight   only water flooding  are the rivers from the bays  of my eyes and my mother's  I can remember your arm  stretched parallel to God's bow  I counted it as another blessing Your hand in mine  indeed a pot of gold  and every time I say squeeze you gave me life that I wish that  I could squeeze back into you I can remember consulting  with  doctor after do...

Wednesday's Poetry Prompt: Write a wandering poem. Wandering in the Mind of My Wonder  Is it the time? Are we of Revelations? Have the epistolary of the new doctrine failed the apple of every eye, Ignored the lifespan upon each lip and turned ears silent to mankind? Is it the time? Where the apocalyptic delivers a new Genesis And the tad bit of prophets are the only storytellers foretelling the remains of the living truth as evil comforts the goods as the goods wrestle with the great. Is it the time? To become of nothing  where  beliefs and morality is on the run to completely dry... 💜D'ElegantOne 

My grandmother is officially at rest by her tree (as requested) and peace. Below is my heartfelt tribute to her, as spoken during her memorial service on 10/10. A perfect 10 she was. She was so gorgeous that I didn't want to bury her.💜😟🥺 A Tribute to My Grandmother Thank you for gathering with us to celebrate the life of our beloved, Betty. It is an honor to stand before you as one of her grandchildren. I would like to briefly share with you who my grandmother was from my eyes, what I learned from her and what she expects of her living legacy. My grandmother was a woman that faced many obstacles and challenges during her childhood and adulthood. As I grew older, along her side, I became inspired by the fact that I was learning from and growing up with a woman that was born during the Harlem Renaissance era, grew up during the civil rights movement and voted for her first time during the Obama Election. Because of her, I also began to study the women in our family. I asked many q...

Wednesday's Poetry Prompt: Write a haunted poem. the spooky oookie We can skip the spooky season- there is nothing  happy  or sweet as candy about it. Under a spooks' operation, it's been a spooky year thus far. So spooky, that a costume  can't even  disguise  the ugliest  dark of the darkness  in the darkest times  before  Autumn's time falls back while watching history repeat itself.  Government buildings are  haunted houses with a million  cobwebs of deception in  every nook and cranny. Only the purest souls  withholds God's  light  as it flickers  to flick off the vampires  of greed and wrath. The unpleasant scents of decayed flesh of "liberty and justice for all" swallows the innocence  of tranquilized air in rooms  where ritual circles take place- full of strange, creeps  with vacant souls like Jason,  Freddy Krueger, and Mike Myers. In the highest chambers, lies demonic ...

Wednesday’s Poetry Prompt: Write a purpose poem. The Purpose of a Grandmother The purpose of a grandmother  is to be: A grand mother; the first oldest best friend to her children’s children. A gifter of unconditional love from the beginning of a lifetime until the end. A magician of whimsical adventures and wonders. A first aider in overcoming adversities in life. A classic storyteller, full of hope and wisdom. A historian of tradition and pastimes for a true sense of identity, belonging and connection. A grade A physician that heals the wounds of the soul and the flesh of her flesh. A treasure chest full of pearls of wisdom; a colorless diamond with a golden heart. A gardener of life, forever sowing seeds- nursing her family tree. A chef that can stir joy, fill bellies with soul food and laughter;  a heart of joy; and a face with a smile even when she is  no longer around. 💜D'ElegantOne