A Page for the Voice

Because it’s long overdue.

Spoken Word/Audio Poems

That is all. There isn’t anything else.

Dead in Akron

An Audio Lamentation for Jayland Walker

Photo by bimo mentara on Unsplash
Dead in Akron by Tremaine L. Loadholt

90 shots fired?
90? 90? Are we sure?
Could be a little more
Could be a little less.
Who’s counting? When it’s
us, who’s counting?

You can’t be Black and young
and afraid of authorities in
America, it’s ammunition
for their ammunition, and
you will never win against
their numbers.

The system was designed to
hunt us like deer
draw our slain bodies from
the scene, and mount us
above their mantels;
prizes for their buddies
to gawk at.

There are checks being
cut for the officials
who can sell the most
bullshit in the darkest times
and the 1% has scrambled to
collect their due.

While we continue to
drop like flies, letters
lacking empathy are issued
to grieving families and lawyers
prepare themselves to seek
the highest monetary amount
possible as though money
resurrects the dead.

What do you do when
you’ve become numb to
the constant pain that settles
in your bones?
It’s there, you know it’s there
but now … it lingers
like a reminder, one you
claim as a task to get
rid of, yet …

You never will.


©2022 Tremaine L. Loadholt Originally published in soliloque via Medium.

“After a car chase, Walker got out of his car and a foot chase took place, police said. Officers believed Walker was reaching towards his waist and they ‘felt that Mr. Walker had turned and was motioning and moving into a firing position,’ Mylett said.

Walker, however, was not armed, Mylett said Sunday.” — Samantha Beecher & Dakin Andone, CNN News

NaPoWriMo#7

Almost Little Sister


For Sarah

Almost Little Sister Tremaine L. Loadholt 2022 April 06

nearly four years ago, I
fell into the same path
as you, both of us wading our
way through the shores of
radiology imaging at a facility
known for its great service.
we became used to each other
over time — each day, a bit closer
to knowing more about the
person standing in front of
the other.

I have watched you grow from
a younger version of yourself
who always had to have her ears
to the ground of every goings-on
to a mature young lady who
stands up for what she believes in,
and reaches back to pull
someone else up to the same
place she resides.

you are a beam of intense light
breaking through the dark corners,
bolting yourself to the doors
of people’s hearts.
I love to hear you laugh which is
probably why I’m always cracking
jokes or doing what I can
to make that happen.

you are your mother’s child — strong
in your presence with a peppered
tongue and a big heart.
the way you’ve moved up in ranks
at work amazes me — shuffles a
heavier sense of pride to my
chest. 

I pat it once — accepting your
stride. I pat it twice — recognizing your
path.

this is a journey you were meant
to soldier — every day, you’re
carving into molds assigned to
deter you, and they crack in place
when greeted by your strength.
I know you know this but I would
slap someone in the throat
with a swift backhand if ever
your heart was torn in two.

it is the big sister in me
I cannot help it

and since you’re so much
like a little one to me, that
is inevitable.
keep gliding through the
difficulties of life with your
head held high and your
dimpled cheek facing the
heavens — let the blessings rain
down on you like they should.

you are deserving of
every last one.


For a coworker, friend, and now, little sister.

The Ladies of Workforce Management Poems #3

NaPoWriMo#5: The Shadow-Speaker: For Stace-E

The Shadow-Speaker Tremaine L. Loadholt 2022 April 03

we don’t always see you but
we know you’re there — two-stepping
in the shadows, popping out only
when time allows or something has
fallen completely apart or a few
house rules need reiterating.

how is she overseeing it all,
I often think to myself? how is
it done and sanity is still
as crystal clear as it was one
year and five months ago?

I wasn’t always this vocal and
adamant on telling my higher-ups
what they mean to me, but flowers
are meant to be smelled while
one can still smell them, and I’m
moved to make sure you have
your bouquet.

Sometimes I don’t know what
I can do — sometimes I’m not as
confident in myself, but you’ll
step out of the shadows to remind
me of my abilities, and then I
remember — I can do whatever I
coerce myself to do.

you are serious about our work — 
about us maintaining a certain
presence as we submerge ourselves
in the almost neverending sea of
calls we get on a daily basis.
we know who we are.

we know what we can take.
on the days when breaking seems
like it’s so very close, you emerge,
and a sliver of light
pulses through the clouds.
goodbye darkness.

there’s a reason I say,
“Good morning, QUEENS” nearly
every day as I log in to help calm
the raging waters of doctors’
offices and patients alike retrieving
their orders . . . it is because
you are — all of you — standing tall
in the face of a promising
kingdom, directing us from
a not-so menacing throne.
thank you.


This is the last poem in The Ladies of Workforce Management Poems series. Thank you so much for reading.

The Ladies of Workforce Management Poems #2

NaPoWriMo #4: The Wolf Mother: For SS

The Wolf Mother: For SS Tremaine L. Loadholt 2022 April 03

you aren’t just punching keys
and hitting buttons on the other
side of the screen, you come
equipped with Mama Bear claws
ready to pounce on belligerent
individuals who dwell in insouciance.
I imagine you grimacing mockingly
at people who are senseless as 
they make demands for something 
we cannot do.

you don’t need a cape, yet you’re
out here saving us from verbal abuse
and people who haven’t had their
share of walking over hot coals 
in a world not meant for many of us. 

I tip my hat to you — with tons
of markets flashing before your 
eyes as you monitor their moves,
you still have time to say, 
“Good morning!” and on 
some days, that means more 
than the breaths I take to 
continue this life.

I believe you have our best interests
at heart and even though we 
may cut up and find ourselves
on the happier sides of time throughout
the day, you honor your role 
making sure we are held to task.

it takes a mighty woman to
sit back and say, “I am not trained
in that area, but let me point
you to someone who is” and 
lean into her badge of vulnerability — 
of simply being human.

if you don’t know just who you are
to us, let me be the first to dub 
you wolf mother — pack gatherer extraordinaire,
we all fall in line because we want to
not because we’re demanded to, 
and there’s the difference between a leader
with willing followers versus one
who has to beg them.
thank you.


I am doing a series of poems for the ladies who form our workforce management team at work. They truly are a gift. This is the second of three. Thank you for reading and listening too. Peace and blessings