I'm a Growing Woman

PAD Challenge Day 6: Write a water poem. Tears of Joy Out of an ocean of grief An ephemeral river flows from me What a relief  I'm a lily coming out of a valley  Rain dancing on the mountains  to life's positive peaks 💜D'ElegantOne 

PAD Challenge Day 5: Write a safety poem.  A Safe Place My spirit sustains honor  in what I call a household  of unconditional love  and genuineness to heart,  where men, women and children  feel safe and sound. I host no vacancies for  prejudice and judgement to live. I soley welcome courage and vulnerability room to gradually  grow from within. I set solid security codes  for one's emotions and insecurities  to permanently rest in peace. I take comfort in knowing  I comfort relatives, friends and outcasts who: Crave compassion with confidence; Thirst for wisdom and personal depth, Seek refuge from life's natural disasters; Humbly request asylum from  wars launched by natives and foreigners; Desire rest after being a blessing in disguise;  Possibly, in dire need, of prayer  and solace from a wholly sanctuary of peace; May ask without asking for shelter  from the cold hearted and cold blooded; Look for a quick hi...

PAD Challenge Day 4: Write a friend poem. Lost Friend If I look like I lost a friend I did and this loss feels next to kin. If you could radiograph  my inflammation and pain, You'll see photogenic  memories across my brain; Swollen tearducts after  another 24 hours of  dry cleaning my eyes; Lungs deflated by an inch in size; The density of my heart  heavily soaked in grief; Cardiograph uttering a rhythm of bradycardia beats; Extra gray matter of emptiness inside;  Contrast proof of depth love  no longer by my side. 💜D'ElegantOne 

PAD Challenge Day 3: Write an “Open (blank)” poem. Open Up Three  raindrops  kiss the middle  of my forehead Signals from a cloud or two Preparing to open up  for an ugly cry on a pretty Good Friday 💜D'ElegantOne 

PAD Challenge Day 2: Write an express poem. Order of Operations (PEMDAS) According to America’s standardized order of operations, being a Negro in America is an arithmetic expression. We are grouped by  (race and ethnicity), once transported in brackets, preserved and valued as commodity (traded…sold) to the New World where our freedom  was (exempted) and names (redefined) without consent. Modern African (Americans) historically, distinguished as Colors to an actual color (Black) Not once perceived as (human), always categorized as something (ugly) (The N-word. Coon. Monkeys. Apes.) Our grandmothers (good cooking, cleaning Mammies) Our mothers (called Sapphires when the helix of our DNA exposed the world to black diamonds and pearls) Our Fathers (a boy or a buck) (never seen as a Sir or a Gentleman…) Our children (Sambo or Pickaninnies…today’s (thugs) All of the above… always seen (suspicious) Let America tell her story, even she knows, She has more freedom significantly than ...

PAD Challenge Day 1: Write a seed poem. Mustard Seed If my spiritual mountains could talk, they would dare not whisper a lone sweet parable. They would shout, in the name of Jesus, declare and decree victory over my misfortunes. With poise, chapter after chapter, of despair and sorrow, their words would etch and sketch me out of hopelessness and calculated schemes orchestrated by life’s adversaries. Their words would color me pretty undefeatable; show and tell the peak of my faith; shape me in the symmetric of the eleven Hebrews. Down this visual Hall of Faith , by my lily in the valley, these mountains will faithfully announce the fate of my faith. They shall say: God is her only idol. She is a descent of Abraham; Her righteousness never took rest. She is an ark and captain of her sea, by and by, floating by faith through the flood of her grieving tears. She is an escapee to death and modern slavery; a modest scion of black success, steering new generations with wisdom and comfort. S...