Month: September 2019

were we the way we were?

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musical selection: barbara streisand|the way we were

an experiment

Barbara S. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

i am connected to you
undoubtedly,
i know you are
connected to me too.

but, has this always been?
will it always be?
or have we walked into
a territory not suitable
for broken hearts
and broken minds?

i wish i could do the math,
make my head learn
to love the numbers
of us as it does the
psychological aspects.

but i am a seeker of words
relational to the heart
not equations found
inside my head.
i have made no promises
but my word was given —

you would know love
until i could no longer
show you, tell you.
and you did.

you always will.

drifters carry little baggage
and we have far too much
of it weakening our backs.

neither of us
willing to strip away
the parts that helped
to make us whole.

i say, in the secret spaces,
“were we always the way we were
or were we who we are now — unable
to see it all before?”

i haven’t found the answer.

i hope i never will.

Originally published in The Junction via Medium.

Featured Writer for September

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Nardine

A blossoming truth-teller of Egyptian descent was recently added to A Cornered Gurl. She took a bit of a break away from Medium and she was sorely missed. I remember hosting Nardine in This Glorious Mess, also via Medium, and since her return, the strength of her words are at an all-time high. Nardine writes from the heart and there is no shame in it. What she brings to A Cornered Gurl is soul-speak, the depth of the heart, and I am so happy that she is there. And now, the work that gained her September’s feature:

the girl in the frame

a poem

Photo by Daniel McCullough on Unsplash

Late nights, red wine (I drank it hoping to be someone else)

Tall boy, sweet words (I felt his tongue against my lips and hoped he didn’t taste the insecurity)

Small house, big crowd (I wished someone would see me the way I saw myself)

(I didn’t want to go home because it was late and I’d face my mother, sitting under the kitchen light, looking afraid to find something on me she didn’t want to see)

(Sometimes I dream that the space between my body and the world has no shape and I bleed into everything, like a girl with no outlines)

On the kitchen wall of my parents’ house

is a drawing I did when I was ten years old.

The girl is sliced in half;

on one side, she smiles,

on the other, she frowns.

(How can I merge the two women inside of me? One who is daring and one who is submissive? One who is fearless and one who is afraid?)

 

I ask my mother,

why do you keep that drawing

of the broken girl up on the wall?

And she looks at me, alarmed, and says,

why in the world you would think the girl is broken?

Copyright©2019—N

Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium. 

The Simple Things #1

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Every Saturday, I will share three things that I believe to be the simple things in life, yet things that make me extremely happy. I invite you to do the same.

petals
Minimal Rose by J A N U P R A S A D via Unsplash

1. calla lilies
2. raindrops (not rain or thunderstorms, but raindrops)
3. Jernee, my pet Chorkie

Now, it’s your turn! Share with me three simple things in life that make you happy. Please reblog, share this post, and give others a smile and a little bit of love. If you reblog the post, please ping or tag my blog and use the words “Simple Things” and “Happy“ as your blog entry tags.

Are you ready, folks? Can we keep the love flowing by sharing the simple things that make us happy? This is our The Simple Things Share Post #1. Have fun and let the happiness begin!

the culling

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musical selection|Me’Shell Ndegeocello: fool of me

micropoetry, 5 parts|audio poem

Egon Schiele from Nudes Series –1918|Wikicommons


I tore you from my heart
watched as you floated into space
the culling begins . . .

you took with you moments of passion,
pleasure, and pain and looked back
at nothing — nothing could remain.

the beauty of us once a small sin
turned into confessions to our other lovers
we had secrets that needed secrets.

I am just a number to you
a piece of flesh molded into your want —
I would never be a need.

as I wash away your scent
I remember the day I morphed into your plaything
it’s etched in me — my skin swallows it.

Originally published on Medium.

Your Labor Day Smile

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Caison thinks he’s a big boy. He even put my slides on the right feet, no help from anyone. The kid is growing up far too fast.

 

He’s also into taking out all of his toys at once and not playing with any, in particular, he just likes to show me that he can do it. Then, we practice putting all of them up again and guess what he does? You got it! He takes them all out again and smiles or laughs while he does it. And since I am a big kid, I laugh or smile along with him. Good times. Nothing but good times.

Here’s hoping this day has been a labor of love for each of you.

Peace and blessings.