I'm a Growing Woman

2026 November PAD Challenge Day 13: Write a luck poem. Lucky You, Blessed Me Woman to woman, it hurts to hear another woman say, “Lucky you got this job! No, there is no lucky me, it’s lucky you! I’m too blessed and highly favored to not be a DEI hire. Can I say I dodged a bullet? And you’re not too down on your luck, are you? Because only God hit the jackpot when he blessed me with talent to sing young, gifted and black out loud. Blessed enough to really microscope you like I microscope microorganisms. Even more blessed that I can test and analyze chemical reactions like your inhumane actions. From start-up to execution, it’s absolutely a blessing to monitor clinical trials like how I can monitor your monitoring spirits day by day. Lucky you, you don’t have to rely on the ratifications of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, and the restoration of the Protect Black Women and Girls Act to be recognized as human, included and treated and paid equally, not isolated and ignored, because hyper-v...

2026 November PAD Challenge Day 12: Write a strange poem. the odds about love it is not born a shape or in living colors but requires human hearts to be assembled and sculptured it  gives as a whole until one offers improper fractions it can be painted hand frees it can mother butterflies  that lovers can’t see we can make it dance we can make it sing after a nightmare,  we can rock the wickedest pain  into the sweetest heart of a dream it can be a cataclysmic loss or a beautiful gain it can be a hurricane or a rainbow after misty rain it can be white noise to lovers it can be a hit record to crowds it can be captivated in the prelude  possibly survive an intermission or turn tight-lipped without an encore it can be an objective... a mission... an adjective a verb... a value...and a vow  to a noun until there is no one to make it even out loud 💜 D'ElegantOne 

2026 November PAD Challenge Day 11: Write a portrait poem. Red Tails (Tuskegee Airmen) In full color, six of the first African American military aviators, famed earnest heroes of glory and black pride, veterans of the United States Armed Forces are standing in a slight arch with honor and valor in front of a silver North American P-51 Mustang. The cock pit is vacant. The nose of the plane is as bright as Rudolph’s nose. Between the nose and the silver body of the plane is one layer of golden yellow and red horizontal stripes. The front right side of the plane reads  TUSKEGEE, written boldly in all caps in Aptos font; below, from the letter K to the last E of  TUSKEGEE , in an upright slope, is the word Airmen in bold, red Harlow Solid Italic font. The number 2, letter A and right side of the wing are all in partial view. The men of honor, not of disgrace are wearing black pants with classic white full collar shirts tucked in, accompanying a standard  black tie in a Wind...

2026 November PAD Challenge Day 10: Write a poetic form and/or anti-form poem. Lumiere Like the sun, singular, impregnated with immeasurable rays of dazzling light. And so am I. Like the moon, a gentle rock of ages with gleaming phases of distinctive light. And so am I. Like a star, dancing impeccable joy through the darkest fissures of an aching life. And so, does I. Like a firefly, born free, flying with a divine spark in an unapologetically black life. And so, does I. Like auroras, reaching beyond the limits of a psychedelic sky. And so, can I. Like lightning, powerfully striking through hostile storms until I see a clear blue sky. And so, can I. Opposing Versatility What         kind of poet         would I be to be         against any form of            poetry? 💜D'ElegantOne 

2026 November PAD Challenge Day 9: Write a help poem. Jesus, Take the Wheel hey Jesus I’m calling on the mainline because life is life-ing again and from my side and rear view I see another storm rising between the middle of the road of my heart again Prince of all Princes, please, send me a sign saying that you’re listening? this time life is full of cold shoulders but I’mma gon’ head, slow down, brake and immediately pull my little pride on over remain parked in hope, humility, and faith surrender to serenity   submit to your will as I call on your grace say an emergency prayer wait for your roadside assistance because I can always rely on you to be there even from a distance when the gears of my cognition and emotions are not clicking but slipping on rainy and sunny days, my performance is sluggish I have more potential than kinetic energy every part of my patience is about to break or shake sending the core of my soul into jeopardy And I feel like the heart of my heart de...

2026 November PAD Challenge Day 7: Write a "True (blank)" poem. True African Black Diamond Call  Africa. She'll  proudly tell you  in Arabic, English, French,  Igbo, Swahili, Yoruba, Zulu and more... From the West to Sahara, to the Congo, from the East to the South, I am the original queen of heart.  My daughter is a one-of-a-kind, round, natural nubian; a flawless carat and royal marquise to the naked eye. A rare princess cut cut  from the radiant oval cushion of my  womb. A pear shape derived from  my deep space of warm,  smooth, rich, everlasting  Mahogany.   💜D'ElegantOne 

2026 November PAD Challenge Day 7: Write a feelings poem. FrFr (for real, for real) I feel like my feelings are  automatically turned off. And I want to turn them back on,  increase the volume loud enough  for you to feel how I feel. Like Rich Homie Quan,  I really want to make you feel  some type of way. I feel like I kind of want to be  the bigger person- not by my size;  no, not today... Truth be told, I feel like how  Kendrick Lamar feel in FEEL. I feel like I don't wanna tap dance  or tip-toe around the truth or give  you too much free-wheel. I feel like the margins of this poem  has more invisible obstructions;  its a true set-up,  blocking me  from how I really feel. I feel like writing  a tell all  to free myself  because  everything I eyewitnessed  around you  would  be a healing to somebody else. I feel like I shouldn't feel too good  about holding my tongue. I feel l...

2026 November PAD Challenge Day 6: Write a power poem. 90 Day Outage For three months, if the world blackout as black as me, and the son and Sun were my only sources of energy, I wouldn’t fear this frail reality. On and off the grid, I’ve never been short of God’s power, Jesus’ will, and the light of the Spirit- all have been certified first aiders and responders; protectors and providers  f or  every  dimmed and lit  time in my life. I would  stand firmer on his words; close my eyes and walk by faith, faithfully. Use my heart and mind as my compass, allow them to direct me through prayer because it never loses its power. I would  stretch  my limbs with joy; float with hope  while   breathing  through my   glow. For a balanced meal, I’d eat Proverbs for breakfast and Psalms for supper. I wouldn’t need a generator because these fresh daily words are brand-name non-perishables with no expiration; and the Trinity never needed backup a...

2026 November PAD Challenge Day 5: Write a tree poem. The Apple Doesn't Fall Too Far From the Tree Since my youth I could sense it As I stemmed  and branched out I could really  smell by the roots the apples of my  family tree  Not all are spoiled Rotten to the core  Poorly fruiting their own fruit  Feeding the souls  of their  seeds  fungus  Implanting poisonous worms  in the core of their brains  Not all can spoil a bunch Some are apple of many eyes True apples for apples  Sweeter than the  brown sugar of a pie They got the sauce Can be the juice  the butter and the jam Can add a little cider depending on how you  try to slice dice or peel  back on the fam Not all are apple turnovers  pretending to be peachy Immature or leachy Good at playing  apples to apples  with their own branch bending and breaking  just to  stumble to crumble  How about this apple? What kind o...

2026 November PAD Challenge Day 4: Write a short poem. long story short all we the people must do to heal  America’s wounds is  tell the truth mirror our  words  with  our actions and love unconditionally  in order  to form a true  perfect union where justice liberty and equality is  really for  all  as America claims it  to be 💜D'ElegantOne 

2026 November PAD Challenge Day 3: Two-for-Tuesday: Write a celebration and/or disappointment poem.   Celebrating Me/Her/She Hey you... Yes, you, the one looking back at me. I just wanted to stop you, gaze back into the stars born in your eyes that candidly sing love yous sincerely to the world just to tell you “I love you, sincerely” while handing you a handful of baby’s breath for every breath you breathe, steel magnolias for your resilience, cherry blossoms for your joy, orchids for your self-worth, tulips for your evolution, sunflowers for your smile, and roses for your beautiful, exclusive existence so you can smell them while you exist because you are the grand prize that the little girl of you wanted to win in her womanhood and you are still that girl   that girl- come hail through  thunder weather rainy or sunny you blossom in every season   that girl- full of brazen black girl magic courageously sprinkling it here confidently sprinkling it there charismatic...

2026 November PAD Challenge Day 2: Write a “(blank) More (blank)” poem. Now More Than Ever I know a heavy heart when I see one It damn sho ain’t a golden ticket But I’m born a winner in this cumulative grief challenge I carry it around like a badge of honor Tucked in between a blessed day full of smiles and silent tears Like its a pocket full of clovers and one day a rainbow will reach out tap my shoulder in exchange for the golden days I shared with every loved one lost I know a heavy heart when I feel one It’s like a baby elephant resting Between the left and right of my breasts Just plumped down out of the sky No call of caution from its own trunk for me to move and shelter in place I can’t even beatbox its beats per minute I can’t even recall its shape Or the number of pounds in weight All I know is It’s feeding off my daily supply of oxygen that I need to survive in this once upon a time in a lifetime 💜D'ElegantOne 

November is back! And so is National Novel Month and another PAD (poem- a-day Challenge. I decided to meet up and join other writers to: 1) write excessively (in any format), and 2)share and more share for feedback. Here is the first poem to kick off November's PAD. 2026 November PAD Challenge Day 1: Write a fresh poem. Fresh Fruit It is time for a new apple in my eye A little something healthier and sweeter  planted with blissfulness to the core of life Where the seeds I sow  are not too thin or light at the roots  by the time I water  and sun kiss my rich future And what grows out  in the hands of time  does not become  wrinkled or decayed  by the tree of knowledge  of good and evil And the harvest I harvest  does not sound dull Its existence is not squishy  or mushy to touch  And I am not too shameful  of the foul smells that comes from being around the bad apples that tempts to spoil the bunch Nor do I become bitter...

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 

Wednesday’s Poetry Prompt: Write an autumn poem. deciduous lover i feel like stevie wonder- i never dreamed you’d leave this summer . i’d thought you’d be a broadleaf evergreen to the earth of my heart. i’d thought we’d plant, spring love through another season minus an unforeseen change of hearts. i’d thought  we’d naturally shed the old us for something new. now that you’re gone, I fall back & you've fallen off too. prematurely, i’d thought it’d be cold & dry, recognizing your autumn before mine- i'm not even triggered by your condensed light & compressed air ‘cause i’d conserved enough potential energy for me to survive. 💜D'ElegantOne 

Wednesday's Poetry Prompt: Write an out poem. CoMiNg OuT As you proclaim  the identify of who you are I never saw you in a closet You were & will always be  a child of God to me One In need of Love for every rainbow of you Greater from & By Those not so Quick to judge dehumanize & crucify  💜D'ElegantOne 

Wednesday's Poetry Prompt: Write a “(blank) the World” poem. ways of the world if it’s in your heart feel it and then correct me if i’m wrong is it the ways of the world or the ways of humans   imagine 24/7 substantial rotations without a billion souls no rules  against God's  length of greens and widths of blues no laws no wars no sins                no lick backs no petty no shade only the natural of the nature narrating my floral growth because it never attempted to steal my spiritual focus or kidnap me into temptation for the desire of              my flesh my eyes my pride of life not even the time of the day will show deception to me              every hour every minute every second since my DOB was loyal to every breath of me the sun  always kissed me in the right places from the heart of the day the moon  always shared its glow with a dance in th...

Wednesday's Poetry Prompt: Write a crime poem. Acquitted I ain't going up nobody's river  to do hard time  for the shots of love  I point-blank aimed at you 'Cause the way I loved you- non-incognito  without suppressing  my infinite ammunition    Beyond reasonable doubt Your thirsty soul alone  proved my innocence  You'd never had love  explicit like this True devotion & desire       under the influence of agape without forged feelings a breach of trust and loyalty  Zero fraudulent seductions  under operations after laundering my emotional intelligence  and embezzling my time... So       Please Charge        no infractions  to my heart for loving you right... 💜D'ElegantOne 

Wednesday's Poetry Prompt: Write a gone fishing poem. Go Fish the Sea to See We you & I Gotta be careful on the ponds That we splish splash in Sometimes-at-times What we reel in our lives  ain't always real Plenty of fish can be fishy Fishy enough to fake the fake looks of a good catch to bait and hook  Just wait & see when casting for the deep Some lost at sea Others be lying dead at sea  before the eyes of seas can see Different sealevels & schools Break ranks From the bottom feeders  to the floaters  With little or no independence  & emotional maturity  Sometimes-at-times  our gills may uniform our breaths & we match in hearts kindness & empathy Maybe a mix & match in stability  consistency respect & vulnerability  Sometimes-at-times  Temporarily love bombed  by the treasures of one's sea without depth & still be entertained intentionally  Just to be caught  in a moment then rel...

Wednesday's Poetry Prompt: Write a competitive poem.   Twice As Good As long as I bounce my own ball in my court, I never want to be twice as good to anyone that couldn't recognize me just like they didn't recognize my ancestors; knowingly knowing all of the cards in the hands of America will always be against someone like me. STRIKE ONE because I’m born female There are men and women that will say I shouldn’t be flexing my femininity or own my own independence like the homegrown voluptuous curves that shape me naturally.   STRIKE TWO because I'm born a darker hue, unlike the mass majority, the lighter version receives no penalty for coaching the rest of the world to loathe the melanin I carry within. STRIKE THREE because my intelligence quotient is fly, higher than a kite; and my tongue can speak and feet can dance   in the depths of parables. When I, once and for all, only want to be as good  as me, myself and I get greater  between the silver lines of...

Wednesday's Poetry Prompt: Write a slump poem. The Blues I caught the blues  Not by an ocean or a sky They came with no rhythm  Out of no where out of sight Like notes from the grooves  of BB King Muddy Waters and Etta James I feel them deep inside my veins Sprinting from the north  to the southside of me Can't you see? Every feature on my face From the furrow of my forehead to the lukewarm bays of my eyes  The Blues leaning heavily on my smile  Even my lady lumps  are drooped and slumped  They dangle to the east And jangle to right Without my bones  hootin' and hollerin' about Through the sunshine  and moonshine Until I shake a tailfeather  to shout them out 💜D'ElegantOne 

Wednesday’s Poetry Prompt: Write a fantasy poem. Too Real to be Unreal They say all heroes don’t wear capes. Fact, none of mine ever marched or spoke in a tailored wool, velvet, or satin one.   All I ever saw was African descents, Black refined diamonds gleaming at the valleys and mountains of redlines; planting solidarity at the feet of picket lines in their natural born ebony skin with smooth extremities, robust like onyx; their elevated intelligence quotient always interrogated, mocked, and doubted; and their comprehensive voices, in range like the Mississippi mass choir  in sync for the people. They were far from being popular, commercialized holiday figurines. Not ever seen like an Easter bunny, but they regifted the new life  of emancipation to a black kid like me. Not once a Santa and Mrs. Claus but they delivered real immeasurable magic of innovations, inspirations,  and institutional development  to a historical bloodline  and timeline for a l...

Wednesday’s Poetry Prompt: Take the phrase "Back (blank)," replace the blank with a new word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem.  Back in My Heyday (Back in My Day) Am I too young or not old enough to say back in my day like my grandma and them? How far can four decades of living a best blessed life can take you down memory lane without you and I holding hands, skipping between the beautiful lanes of simplicity, innocence, and joy- where I was a minor in a major World Wide Web daydreaming on my white and floral printed daybed where I consumed micro soft dreams and prayed that they would grow bigger by the day like my Windows. You know, way back, when you could Yahoo me before you Googled me. You could page me and I call back on a wired Sprint phone that my single, working, collegiate mother paid in full for. If lost, you could find my nosedived in her encyclopedias, atlas and college books. You could dance the Roger Rabbit, Cabba...

Wednesday's Poetry Prompt: Write a travel poem.  Wanderluster   Right before my feet says "I was here" and the ocean  waves goodbye after wrinkling  my toes and fingers  the sun kisses the leftover  rivers on my bronze skin dry- I'm already lusting for another country  Wondering about how I can wander  through the light and dark of it  letting it naturally take me as I am  as I take it naturally for what its worth Wanting to see the people places and thingamajigs like how I see them shaped and  colored through touch screens Open to hugging a native  to not feel so foreign  Get wrapped up in their  languages like its music  to my ears and I'm a beginner  dancing to the beat of their lips  and the click of their tongues  Waiting for their culinary arts  to met and greet my taste buds  make love to the Americanized palate  of my mouth as my African Diaspora  spirit honor their rite...

Wednesday’s Poetry Prompt: Write a panic poem. Panic Button what if my heart was a panic button pressed deeply to the back of my chest for every single systematic risk weighed against the color black and I ran out of breaths to breathe just for its sirens to howl louder than a tornado warning letting it beats per minute spiral out of control for every obnoxious blackout that my black face faced What if every press down released signals to God to personally contact my spiritual network of ancestral angels and they mighty morph like Power Rangers fly out in V-formation sheltering my kindred soul to take avenge for me or summon me like Captain Planet just to say: the power is now yours its embedded in you this earth is worthy of you too don’t burn out your flames to keep another fire lit there is more freedom in today’s winds and the water in your blood is a fraction of our flesh living in the heart of you breathe child.. breathe… rise child fear none and rise 💜D'ElegantOne  ...

Wednesday's Poetry Prompt: Write a joke poem.  Jelly Rolls I have two chubby thick n' waffle golden brown ones on my belly. No bake; They naturally rise up & fall down. I call them team double trouble 'cause they always rolling in the deep. No butter; They're angel soft & smell florally sweet. Far from being edible; they can be poked, kissed, licked & caressed. And, if I laugh out loud, they'll jiggle then wiggle for a while. And, if I sweat out loud, they'll melt away, off my abdomen after a while. 😂 💜D'ElegantOne 

Wednesday’s Poetry Prompt: Write an enclosed poem. seclusion The world is in a time. And I’m in between another time- where we both aren’t ticking and tocking together. I’m locked inside my inner light, hiding from the world’s darkness that’s rotating like earth’s axis, replicating evil, free of charge. I’m breathing happy as heaven- even resting in peace by the light  of the sun, the moon, and the stars. In my deep self-centered space, self-love, self-empathy & self-kindness reaches back for me in case reciprocity is deceased. Cause, I aint got no mo’ grace periods. I’m just giving me the best of me- fighting for the inner misfit. I’m her army and five star general- saving the rest of her heart from old sleeves, down to cutting strings that made her strange fruit in the eyes of a pathogenic world. 💜D'ElegantOne 

Wednesday's Poetry Prompt: Write a summer poem.  A Love Like Summer  I want a summer love surpassing the first 92 days of a spring fling. I want to take a new  heat of passion further than 93 days of an infatuated summer where I can fortunately harvest the highest comfort and sustain the happiest feelings of knowing, being secured,  safe and sound enough to fall softly in love  and the only coldest winter ever is the last  season of the calendar year that him and I  spring warmth together in, side by side.  I want a summer love without a long summer  break of wishful thinking followed by  withering forget-me-nots and sour sweet  nothings that mean nothing. I want a summer love so freshly born into it's  divine season like the juice of a blackberry  waiting to stain the purest essence of love to  the window of my stained glass heart. I want a summer love healthy and sweet  as a watermelon, never too much to hold, ...

Wednesday's Poetry Prompt: Write an approaching poem.  3 Hours & 1 Minute In between a thousand rays of the sun  and cumulus clouds, I have three hours  and one minute to dream about how far  Dominican Pesos and a series of Hola,  Como Estas! can take me from between a  rainbow row of sleek Spanish colonial  and modern buildings to a vast stretch  of white soft sand and clear turquoise  cool waters as the breeze of the island  hugs my luxury bones and bronze skin  while I first French kiss a Coco Loco,   a La Dominicana and then a Santo Libre. While a plate of La Bandera performs  the Bachata on my American native tongue,  the Merengue and Dominican Dembow  request my Motherland hips to dance out loud  without any daydreams of the contrail clouds  left behind in the sky. 💜D'ElegantOne 

Wednesday’s Poetry Prompt: Write an “In My Blank” poem. all in my feelings somewhere in the heart of my mind, between the mobility of the bones in my body, im all in my feelings. and i’m feeling some type of way about being ignorant of the fact that i can’t draw them by height or weight, color them by numbers or label them fast as the world label the human race and behavior. are they softer? are they brand new or old hard feelings? i’m somewhat too remorse -ful to recall, but careful to remain attracted to this ebb and flow of life. becoming more comfortable with troubled waters as i cautiously float through the tidal waves that birth joy out of pain, sprout vulnerability out of fear, and stir confidence out of confusion- keeping the lifeline of my heart in the hands of heaven, keeping my head at rest in the skies of peace while my chest is protruding, taking a million deep breaths of courage as I rotate my greatest strengths to kick, push, swim through the grooves of these indisputabl...

Wednesday’s Poetry Prompt: Write a balance poem. Libra America cross dresses as Libra but she is no innocent lady of justice. Born a Cancer,  she is an aggressive malignant tumor to her own indigenous. Her deoxyribonucleic acid make-up 250 years plus of heavy weight melanoma. She is the notorious queen pin of oppression, known for tipping the scales  of justice to outweigh  the African chattel. She breathes a declaration  of independence  but the eye of her soul sketches the roots of her insecurities. With excessive blood on her hands, she’s no natural, true beauty. Her freedom rings a far-flung rhythm of blues. Her genes never inherited the alleles of equality and liberty. Her harmony, absent from  the bodies of the children  born to her... And  We the People   only identifies as plural to the singular,  lighter version of herself. With her right hand over her heart, she lip-syncs the pledge of allegiance proudly in her Jesus' blood and...

Wednesday Poetry Prompt: Write a rule poem.  My Rule of Thumb I always been good at  playing by the rules even when it comes to my left hand  not knowing about my right. Whether in the heart of my dark  or in the dazzling of my light, without fail, genuine insides,  never phony in life. I love humanly as loudly  as God loves me. My only secrets: unbroken mutual bro and sis codes. I'm caution and watchful  to not bend or break what  can bend and break me. Grateful to have listened  wholeheartedly to the lyrics  of my mother's life because  my environment and lineage  proved she sung words  of inspiration and affirmations  best before I could begin  to tap dance to the music of life's test. I'm still growing thorough and meticulously, more and more each day because  I learned love and trust are like braids- they can go from tight to loose ends. Both can walk or run away together or birth a fork in the road....

Wednesday Poetry Prompt: Write a picture poem. picture this in a slow motion setting no fancy classic metal or wooden frames [picture this] enslaved Africans rising like the sun and the moon genuine black stars no longer in secret reading and writing English praying in tongue not waiting for Juneteenth building a novel Noah’s Ark naming it Motherland then fleeing the Americas [picture this] Jim Crow never born soiled whites and colorful fine linen and cotton are the only separate but equals [picture this] the bullets that missed President Obama missed  the I'm black and I'm proud   flesh of Martin Luther King Jr., Medgar Evers, and Fred Hampton too [picture this] Greenwood District conceived and perceived as a yellow brick road to blacks not green with envy to whites [picture this] from the beginning Carolyn Bryant telling  the truth and Emmett Till  survives the heat of the Delta in Chi-town he throws  the first pitch at a Chicago Cub or at the Jackie Robinson...

if i wasn't black i can't imagine waking up stretching my limbs imitating a body of Christ  with the eyes of the devil & a despicable tongue  doused in hate speech  & a heart full as the moon  streaming cold blood living in memory of a heritage  notably celebrated for the oppression  of black men women and children  every damn day of my life  💜D'ElegantOne