We fall in love, call our best friends, and the first thing they want to know is what does it feel like? Why does love always have to feel like something? If I was in love, I'd want to smell it, hear it, see it, and taste it. Let it be the aroma that wakes me to work hard. Let it be that favorite rhyme I hum without thinking, it just comes. Let it be a beautiful painting, a golden sunset, a star filled sky, a half moon. Let it be every part of the senses used to make love work.
What would yours taste like?
I think mine would be like this....
Taste of Love
my love passed me a jar
placed the edge on my lip & i drank
it went down
smooth w/ edges
bits of shaved sweet roasting almonds
hot w/a sour aftertaste like day old soup or cough drops
sweet w/hints of peppermint
that freshness i held under my tongue
a spicy sunburst of tangerine
syrupy thick molasses blanket
it was warm
vanilla flavored coffee
a serving of sweet potato pudding
savory buttered cornbread
homemade apple pie
& extra sweet ice tea
a drop fell on my lips & my love hungrily kissed me
we don't waste
(to be continued)
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Series of Love: 16 Words for Love
Someone out there loves so much that its hard to put it into existence. Nothing seems as high as the feeling knowing this is the one, this is my second heartbeat. For those whose breathing match miles apart, whose eyes gaze at nothing seeing their lover, whose mind is only filled with ways to give of themselves; this poem is for you.
If at any moment I failed to capture that moment of being divinely blessed, I apologize. For what I write, I seek.
16 words
There are 16 words for love
to capture the moment of being
more than friends
combining ways to end madness & confusion
crossing the lines
to blend names
no longer being the same lonely
picture but a portrait of what is to come
Compromise- not holding your tongue
to make peace taking it piece by piece
recreating a stable environment
Waiting- for what is meant to come
naturally letting
hands find the womb birthing newness
Understanding- that boundless boxes
surround you
16 ways to seduce
16 ways to purge
yourself new baptized
into each other
16 ways to say I Love You
in the morning
16 ways to say goodnight
16 ways to remix the moves
keeping the walls in shock
to what 2 bodies do next
That space your time
do it again
play it year round
make it a holiday
say loudly " baby it's time"
16 ways to speak revolution of love
lettin words tap dance on ear drums
that beat keep scared walk
around w/ heart sounds in your head,
16 ways to show the honeymoon is
not over
16 words.....
16 words to respect, honor, trust, obey,
be faithful, show character, encourage,
motivate, entice, tease, sweat, taste,
breathe, capture, desire, & build
Love.
To be continued...
If at any moment I failed to capture that moment of being divinely blessed, I apologize. For what I write, I seek.
16 words
There are 16 words for love
to capture the moment of being
more than friends
combining ways to end madness & confusion
crossing the lines
to blend names
no longer being the same lonely
picture but a portrait of what is to come
Compromise- not holding your tongue
to make peace taking it piece by piece
recreating a stable environment
Waiting- for what is meant to come
naturally letting
hands find the womb birthing newness
Understanding- that boundless boxes
surround you
16 ways to seduce
16 ways to purge
yourself new baptized
into each other
16 ways to say I Love You
in the morning
16 ways to say goodnight
16 ways to remix the moves
keeping the walls in shock
to what 2 bodies do next
That space your time
do it again
play it year round
make it a holiday
say loudly " baby it's time"
16 ways to speak revolution of love
lettin words tap dance on ear drums
that beat keep scared walk
around w/ heart sounds in your head,
16 ways to show the honeymoon is
not over
16 words.....
16 words to respect, honor, trust, obey,
be faithful, show character, encourage,
motivate, entice, tease, sweat, taste,
breathe, capture, desire, & build
Love.
To be continued...
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Series of Love: If I Loved You
We have all had the chance to live, love, and lose. Some we wished we loved a little harder (maybe they would've stayed), a little less (to not look needy), and some not all (these are the ones we blame for the 15 pounds gained or lost). Either way we've all had hot and steamy or cold and dry sessions of love. From each experience we hoped that we learned something, anything that would keep us from making or keep us making the same decision over again.
Well, I'm going to attempt to tap into those sessions. April 14, 2007--I was lucky enough to look at a card full of writing prompts for love. Those prompts are turning into beautiful poems that take us back to uncontrollable leg shaking, needing rehab cuz we're in so deep, or maybe just a reason to admit, "Hell, we ain't together for a good a$$ reason!"
The first poem I wrote at the workshop. Welcome to the series...Enjoy!!
If I Loved You
than heartache would've stayed
outside cold and wet
singing the blues that i hear now
if i loved you
than setting fire to the place
where you slept
would've been a bad dream
instead of the reality
that has me handcuffed to
a dead thought
if i loved you
i wouldn't be so eager
to remove the very essence
of you from my personal space
YES, the window had to go--
you touched it once
you told me empty words
of faith-fully going to
every warm kiss
straying from home
and still i didn't care
now don't you think if i loved you--
please, i don't know why
i'm writing this...
i still don't
(To be continued.....)
Well, I'm going to attempt to tap into those sessions. April 14, 2007--I was lucky enough to look at a card full of writing prompts for love. Those prompts are turning into beautiful poems that take us back to uncontrollable leg shaking, needing rehab cuz we're in so deep, or maybe just a reason to admit, "Hell, we ain't together for a good a$$ reason!"
The first poem I wrote at the workshop. Welcome to the series...Enjoy!!
If I Loved You
than heartache would've stayed
outside cold and wet
singing the blues that i hear now
if i loved you
than setting fire to the place
where you slept
would've been a bad dream
instead of the reality
that has me handcuffed to
a dead thought
if i loved you
i wouldn't be so eager
to remove the very essence
of you from my personal space
YES, the window had to go--
you touched it once
you told me empty words
of faith-fully going to
every warm kiss
straying from home
and still i didn't care
now don't you think if i loved you--
please, i don't know why
i'm writing this...
i still don't
(To be continued.....)
Monday, July 23, 2007
Family Reunion
(the following is poem from my upcoming book "Conversations at my Sister's Dinner Table")
Lost Somewhere
We had the best fights any
Two country girls could ever have
Throwing collard greens and cornbread
Wrestling in the front lawn
Yeah I lied but it was funny
To watch you get in trouble
We smiled after
Thinking about the times we sold mud pies
Climb trees in church dresses
Had to watch TV on our belly for a few days
We laughed hard
When my period came during P.E.
And I told you I was dying
How you managed to fall up stairs
And how that damn cat always sat on top of Tee’s truck
We were pissed together
When my date was an hour late
Drove with the window down
And messed up my hair
When Lillian was on another trip
When we realized nobody gave a shit but us
We went to college
Forgot our tears
Forgot our laughter
Forgot our pain
And grew apart
But now that we’re talking again
Those times really aren’t important
I recently went to a Family Reunion. For years my family could be counted on one hand (okay my niece came so now I use two).
Six. That was the number I could always count on to be there whether I was laughing, crying, or in the words of my sister never acting my age. I mean really if you stop laughing life is just...dull. I was the child in class who could never do a family tree because I had no idea who I came from.
Seventeen. The number of years I was kept from so many pieces of myself. The years of never hearing stories of my grandmother or knowing that my great grandfather had fourteen children!! Years of wondering, is there anyone out there who loves us, remembers us, remembers mama.
Eight. The number of reunions we happen to miss because of some woman who decided that itobviously wasn't important. Nothing she did or does really surprises me. She is just evil or I could branch out and use my expanded vocabulary and say uniquely special.
Two. The number of times I cried when I was there. Happy for the simply fact that I looked over a sea of beautiful black faces in the middle of a banquet and said HI EVERYBODY!! They all said hi back. Wow
Like the poem says, anything prior isn't really that important; the gap has been filled.
I AM A DECEDENT OF JOSEPH HARRISON AND LUNA VENABLE. (my great-grand parents)
Lost Somewhere
We had the best fights any
Two country girls could ever have
Throwing collard greens and cornbread
Wrestling in the front lawn
Yeah I lied but it was funny
To watch you get in trouble
We smiled after
Thinking about the times we sold mud pies
Climb trees in church dresses
Had to watch TV on our belly for a few days
We laughed hard
When my period came during P.E.
And I told you I was dying
How you managed to fall up stairs
And how that damn cat always sat on top of Tee’s truck
We were pissed together
When my date was an hour late
Drove with the window down
And messed up my hair
When Lillian was on another trip
When we realized nobody gave a shit but us
We went to college
Forgot our tears
Forgot our laughter
Forgot our pain
And grew apart
But now that we’re talking again
Those times really aren’t important
I recently went to a Family Reunion. For years my family could be counted on one hand (okay my niece came so now I use two).
Six. That was the number I could always count on to be there whether I was laughing, crying, or in the words of my sister never acting my age. I mean really if you stop laughing life is just...dull. I was the child in class who could never do a family tree because I had no idea who I came from.
Seventeen. The number of years I was kept from so many pieces of myself. The years of never hearing stories of my grandmother or knowing that my great grandfather had fourteen children!! Years of wondering, is there anyone out there who loves us, remembers us, remembers mama.
Eight. The number of reunions we happen to miss because of some woman who decided that itobviously wasn't important. Nothing she did or does really surprises me. She is just evil or I could branch out and use my expanded vocabulary and say uniquely special.
Two. The number of times I cried when I was there. Happy for the simply fact that I looked over a sea of beautiful black faces in the middle of a banquet and said HI EVERYBODY!! They all said hi back. Wow
Like the poem says, anything prior isn't really that important; the gap has been filled.
I AM A DECEDENT OF JOSEPH HARRISON AND LUNA VENABLE. (my great-grand parents)
Thursday, July 19, 2007
The Struggle
My son opened a fortune cookie and it said--Struggle as hard as you can for whatever you believe in.
Being the word monger that I am, I held onto it, taped inside my journal. When you think about it, those simple words are the purest truth we can ever hold on to. Why?
We struggle to raise children in a way better than ourselves but not so full of themselves that they forget the word 'thank you'.
We struggle to make changes on a job we love but employees we could probably live without. Being a teacher, I struggle to make a difference because I firmly believe that I can give my students something more.
I want to force them to drink. But Knowledge should go down smooth...ice tea on mama's back porch.
We struggle to make sense of that child who broke the mold and will drive that mother to insanity.
We struggle to understand the real reason to why some fathers won't stay and why some mother's won't leave.
Family isn't just DNA, it's Divine Negotiation of Attitude. Sometimes different strands don't mix. We struggle when our bodies are weak and the alarm clock is going off...we are being called to provide.
We struggle to make it simply longer on tomorrow because today we gave in.
We struggle to understand the war, is there meaning behind it; blood still sheds so there must be.
We struggle in relationships on those bad days, we know we shouldn't have said it but we are still in love.
Everyday we cry, we fall, we pray, we fight, we love, we win, we lose. But all would be in vain if we didn't see the meaning.
If we didn't take the time to acknowledge this is not my burden this in my blessing and I will die before I let it get away from me!!
all of this from a few words on small scrap of paper...
Being the word monger that I am, I held onto it, taped inside my journal. When you think about it, those simple words are the purest truth we can ever hold on to. Why?
We struggle to raise children in a way better than ourselves but not so full of themselves that they forget the word 'thank you'.
We struggle to make changes on a job we love but employees we could probably live without. Being a teacher, I struggle to make a difference because I firmly believe that I can give my students something more.
I want to force them to drink. But Knowledge should go down smooth...ice tea on mama's back porch.
We struggle to make sense of that child who broke the mold and will drive that mother to insanity.
We struggle to understand the real reason to why some fathers won't stay and why some mother's won't leave.
Family isn't just DNA, it's Divine Negotiation of Attitude. Sometimes different strands don't mix. We struggle when our bodies are weak and the alarm clock is going off...we are being called to provide.
We struggle to make it simply longer on tomorrow because today we gave in.
We struggle to understand the war, is there meaning behind it; blood still sheds so there must be.
We struggle in relationships on those bad days, we know we shouldn't have said it but we are still in love.
Everyday we cry, we fall, we pray, we fight, we love, we win, we lose. But all would be in vain if we didn't see the meaning.
If we didn't take the time to acknowledge this is not my burden this in my blessing and I will die before I let it get away from me!!
all of this from a few words on small scrap of paper...
Friday, March 23, 2007
While in Church
Ever paid attention to how people act in church? It really is amazing how people who curse up a storm hold it in, the sassy dies down, and the most flirtatious individual seems "normal". As soon as you hit the ground, the radio station changes, best behavior is a must, and all the drama of the world seems to be put aside. I mean if you really think about it, church is where we are what we try to be all the time. Then Monday comes, your boss gets on your nerves and while in the group of coworkers they become the B%^$3# A#$ slave driver who keeps you working overtime. Your friends are the trifling ones who you sometimes talk about behind their back, and that checking account that was not a concern on Sunday becomes the biggest burden around noon. What if we carried ourselves like everywhere we went was church? What if we helped those we didn't know without question? What if we complimented instead of complained? Donated instead of saying we didn't have (you know you just went and bought something)? Think about it, if we walked like everyday was Sunday; curse words would be fiddlefaddle all day, drama would be "Give it to God and don't worry about it", and that awful outfit would be corrected instead of laughed at. All this came to mind when I saw some of the students, who usually run a muck at school, on their best behavior in the House. I bet if we did than so much would be different. We might even be happier and a little less stressed. Just something to think about.
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