Dreamy-eyed Boy

An Experiment Audio Poem

MUSICAL SELECTION: ABBOT KINNEY AND THE LIGHTHOUSE CHOIR|TROUBLE OF THIS WORLD

Caison in the sun|Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

Dear Dreamy-eyed Boy,
promise me you won’t
let them pull you into their black holes — 
their secret places of regret

I need you stronger than the masses
of clicking tongues and forceful hands
under white robes and covered heads
trained to track you, shoot you,
and string your lifeless body up a tree
whose breath still beats in 
urban forests

I want to remember this smile — 
this innocent smile that overpowers me
whenever I see it
and I want the world to be
just as mesmerized with it too

They’re coming for you, they are trying — 
their methods are failing, but
they are in constant motion in
devising plans to take us out and
I don’t want to live in fear of losing you

You have so much life to live
the sun has not had its time 
on the bridge of your nose
the sky is seeking refuge under your arms
and I still need decades multiplied by three
before I can even begin to be satisfied 
with my love for you

Dear Dreamy-eyed Boy,
hold on — 
our help never fails us and 
when the time comes
we will be remembered in 
seasons throughout the years
our smiling mouths opened to
the sea’s stirred pots

We will sop them up with
buttery biscuits, wipe their
remnants on our plates,
and pray for their souls


*Author’s Note: Right at about “refuge,” I got a little choked up.I thought of stopping and beginning the audio again, but listened to it and felt that I should leave it.It seems to be the perfect flaw in a good spot of the poem.


Originally published in The Junction via Medium.

hello, Time.


hello, Time . . .
so, you’re here for me, but
I am still not done with today’s day
and tomorrow always comes before
I am ready.

I request more of you.

And I know this game.
I know you will deny me of
what I ask, but
I am stubborn enough to
think that maybe today is different.

You could change your mind
and this suggestion of M O R E from
you could land in lap,
shortly after I finish this sentence.

Maybe not.

But, think about it.
Just a little bit more of you today
would be better for me tomorrow
and really–aren’t we eager to keep
me satisfied these days?

Time, you can make it happen.
I’ll be waiting.


©2019 Tremaine L. Loadholt All Rights Reserved

Death Still Comes

Silvestri Matteo|Unsplash

For: Toni Morrison

I don’t think there’s a word
for what I’m feeling. 
when you write and you’re black
and a woman and you lose
another beam of light that
gave you hope and taught you through
words how to bust out of
your skin:
no excuses, no looking back, no pulling
away from your core 
you fade . . .

bits of you break off,
float into the air, 
and paint the sky with sadness. 
I want to be able to
say how moved, enriched, and
motivated I was as someone who
followed her words. 
I don’t know how to do that
knowing that death still comes
even when you feel you
have so much more to learn. 
you have so much more to witness.

but the day ends after twenty-four hours
and a new one begins. 
that’s the constant of life. 
I will remember bluest eyes, 
beloved memories, Sula’s hips, 
passion-filled dreams, a home
away from home, and how to
love. 
I will remember
the gifts laid before me,
one million times ten — words
that blend in with my skin
and kiss the world.

I will remember
why I picked up 
a pen.


©2019 Tremaine L. Loadholt. All Rights Reserved/Originally published on Medium

Lack of Sugar

Musical Selection: Annie Lennox|Walking on Broken Glass


An Experiment

Simple Pleasures|Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

cover me in your scented breath,
mythical creature, deem me worthy.

my heart is a cave. land-dwellers are welcome,
there is room for burying one’s soul.

deep in the belly of its darkness, find your imperfections,
find your excuses and fears.

here, in this fading fantasy, let me lure you.
the kettle will hiss, the tea will steep.

I will show you how easy it is to love . . .
isn’t that what you came here for?

to love me, then leave?

cover me in your scented breath,
mythical creature, deem me worthy.

make me bitter.