Day: November 26, 2025

Writing It Gently, Babies

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A Book Review

Let Me Write This Gently, My Baby by Lisa Marie Lovett. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

Lately, I’ve been reading books that are seeping into my soul, spreading throughout my body, and settling into my marrow. There is nothing like reading a damn good book that strengthens you throughout the read, and begs you to sit with it for a while longer than you initially planned to. Let Me Write This Gently, My Baby by Lisa Marrie Lovett (Seasoned Dialogue on all platforms) does exactly that.

A spoken word poet, speaker, and influencer (amongst other things), Lisa lures the reader in with her gentle sayings that come wrapped in love, but with Mama’s sternness, and lets you know she means exactly what is being said to you. In every word shared within these pages, there is love, kindness, encouragement, testimonies, and a subtle bite to remind the reader that the author can get feisty if she has to. I appreciated everything this book has to offer, and I am blessed to have had a friend gift it to me a couple of months ago.

Below is the review of it that I shared on Amazon and Goodreads:

I Sat With This Book As If It Were My North Star

And that isn’t to say that it steered me along the right path every single time I opened it up, no I am saying this because the journey was a much-needed one. It came at the right time, and as a gift, too.

Sometimes, we need wisdom to glide to us in other forms, and when it is laced as poetry and literary art, for the written word creative, that is a blessing.

To connect with another human being’s words when you’re hungry for peace is soulspeak on an entirely different level.

Lisa Marie Lovett is in fact, “Seasoned Dialogue”, everything about this book screams teacher, poet, writer, experienced, a work in progress, blessed, and willing to learn. “Knowledge is infinite”, and within these pages, there is plenty of it shared with the reader.

I intend to read this book many more times, especially when life becomes far too heavy to carry or is cloaked in evil that I cannot fight alone.

Let Me Write This Gently, My Baby is a testimony that will continue to confess for many years to come.

If you’re a lover of poetry and looking for a book full of spoken word and poems that will nestle up next to you and spend a few nights in your head, this book is for you. The flow is smooth, succinct, flawless, and seamless, without a single hiccup. I appreciate the literary artistry on every page, and I am sure you will do the same.

Have you gotten your copy of Séduire: Serial Tales & Flash Fiction at Lulu in E-Book & Paperback versions, or Amazon in Paperback (only) yet?

I am on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak about recent events with a previous place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination, growth from the transition after resigning from that company, and life’s foibles and overall experiences. I welcome your visit.

At the Mention of Your Name

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An audio lamentation for Jernee Timid

A cartoonized version of Jernee Timid, derived from an original photo I took of her several years ago. Google Gemini is the AI tool I used to convert the image.
At the Mention of Your Name by Tremaine L. Loadholt

Just after work yesterday, I took
the body to a place we enjoyed
for months—our sister imaging center,
to visit with previous co-workers and
staff there.
My friend’s mother—eager to see my
smiling face, and offer a hug that
said to me, “You may not be mine,
but you are mine,” awakened my
heart’s pain.

The elders, as they often do, check
on us when we need it most.
The way she tilted her head and
asked, “How are you doing?” could
not have prepared me for what
would take place next.
I knew what she meant.
I knew how she meant it.
And when your name fell from her lips,
the tears fell from my eyes.

I apologized as I am wont to do when
my emotions take over, and she held
up her hand to me and shook her head No…
”I asked you. I want to know. Don’t you
dare apologize for feeling, Tre.”
And I heard the bass in her voice, attempted
to tighten up, but also loosen up, too.

It’s still unreal talking about you and
not coming home to you.
There are far too many reminders, and
so many people who knew you.
Everywhere I turn, sadness is waiting
to string me along.
I hate that this is now what clutters
my heart—that I have made space
for pain of this magnitude, and it shifts
only when it is good and ready.

At the mention of your name, I become
puddles that plough through the depths
of powerful grief—I wade accordingly, searching
for a shore that will envelop me
and keep me safe.
I can no longer run to you for a sense
of security.
You don’t crawl into my lap for warmth
or stand at the entrance of our bedroom,
waiting for me to exit.

You’re in so many places that make
up who I am, and erasing you was
never a plan—but keeping you in all
those spaces is running over me.
And if I can be completely honest
with you, I did not prepare for you
to live and die, and live again.

And for me to live and die, and
try to live again.

Musical Selection: Elton John—Your Song

Originally published in Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun on Substack.