Category: Medium

For This Gay Couple: Love Is a Modern-Day Couch With Multicolored Throw Pillows

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Senryu 8 Parts

Chic: Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

Darnell had confessed
the move strangled his whole heart
Tai broke all the rules

two men never loved
as hard and as heavy, but
joke’s on everyone

the walls had their smell
the floors held their footprints; life
had turned on its head

a modern-day couch
with multicolored pillows
stood between love birds

who would get the couch
who should get the couch and why
did they deserve it

Darnell paid for it
Tai took care of it and with
destroyed love, comes hate

condo keys returned
an empty living room groans
Darnell and Tai sob

for this gay couple
the couch meant more; it was love
and love built them up

condo keys returned
an empty living room groans
Darnell and Tai sob

Originally published in Prism & Pen via Medium

8 Months and Counting

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A free verse poem

Locs wash & interlocking day, ©2023 August 19. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

From the beginning, I’ve been happy about 
the choice I made to loc my hair, and I still am.

The journey is an interesting one, 
and I am learning more about 
myself and my hair with each passing day.

The beauty of going natural is 
watching various changes with the roots 
of my head and the blooming of my hair itself; 
it’s a wonder to witness.

How can something typically seen 
as dead be so alive?
As my cousin interlocked my hair and 
found difficult locs with which to fight, 
I smiled recognizing not only am I stubborn, 
but my hair is, too.

4 hours and 35 minutes later, I walked away 
with a clean head and a new style.

I cannot believe December of last year was
 the start of something special — 
the start of a new me — a changing me.

8 months later, the growth is on track 
with how I envisioned it would 
be around this time of year.

I am still eager to see what my hair will do, 
yet I am patient, too.
A blessed head knows its place 
and remains there.
I know myself more since I am following 
a path that allowed me to shift 
my life slightly — progress is our lane.

And the paths to the destination 
set for me are purposed for my excellence.
I am healing in a way that words 
cannot accurately describe.

And it all started with a
single strand of hair.

Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium.

A Change Had To Come

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Moving: Jernee Timid Loadholt is standing in the middle of it all while I pack up and stack boxes. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

I had grown complacent; my time
to change and maneuver into a new
space almost eluded me.
Somehow, I found the strength
to push through fear and allow
excitement to take over.

When you’ve spent five years
in one space, you’re going to do
one of three things: remain in that
space with no intention to move,
move away from that space to find
another that will be much better, or
do something more to that space
in order for it to continue to feel
like home.

I decided it was time to move.
We’d given The Powers That Be enough
chances to right their wrongs of
our conditions and I won’t stand
for it any longer.
I prayed. I stood steadfast on my word.
I watched God work.

And now, I move.

I am fervent action in motion risking
it all for the betterment of my mind,
heart, body, and soul.
And in tow, is my senior dog who
is curious about the things
shifting in real-time before her eyes.

We are downsizing from two bedrooms
and two baths to one bedroom and
one and one-half bath — one never knows
the amount of junk one has until it
is all showing its teeth at you
while you pack it up and
put it in out-of-reach spots. . .

Cautious not to get bitten during
the process.

I am tired — no, an understatement; I am
exhausted. My body aches in places
I did not know
aches could exist, and there is still
more to do.
But I am ready.

The most important part of this
experience is that I recognize if
I opt to stay here for another year,
more pieces of me will deteriorate
into nothingness, and I intend to
keep this year easier on the ME
I am becoming instead of harder.

I claim fewer struggles.
I claim happier moments.
I claim peaceful rest.
I claim growth.
I claim pure love.

And it all starts here
and now with a change
so subtle yet overpowering,
my soul knows its power.

Originally published in soliloque via Medium.

The moving day is Thursday, August 24, 2023. I’d forgotten how much of a major task it is to move and I am being reminded of it every single day. I am attempting to see the joys of it as well as the higher possibility of sheer happiness from it, too. Thank you for reading.

Dedicated To You

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Musical Selection: Drake|How About Now

A free verse audio poem

Photo by Ivana Cajina on Unsplash
Dedicated To You by Tremaine L. Loadholt

I have never been the type
to brag, so I won’t start now,
but I am okay.
No, really. I am the happiest
I have been, and it took pain,
death, grief, and moving
through your lookalikes to
know that I deserve this happiness.

People are telling me it
looks good on me, I wear it
well.
My smile still brightens up the room.
What did you used to call me?
“Sweet beauty,” wasn’t that it?
Because you said I was
“beautiful” and “sweet”, and it
used to be a dangerous combination.

And it still is.

But I know how to use
these tools now… without you.
I know how to enjoy the little
things now… without you.

I wonder what you tell the
kids about me — who I’ve now
become since we ain’t
mingling around in the same
waters.
Will they embrace me if they
see me in public or would
they shun me and keep
it moving.

A friend of mine told me a few
weeks back, “It’s going to be
the constant thoughts about the
children that’s going to do you in.”

And she is right.

Because when you’ve poured so much
of yourself and your love
into the children of someone
you love — someone you dreamt
would pick up and settle with
you — healing takes longer.

I love hard, so I hurt harder.
And I used to carry the hurt
on the tip of my tongue, 
and these days, I let my pain
splash the hurt over papyrus
and my fingers type the hurt
out via keys.
I ain’t singing no blues.
I got joy deep down in my
heart, instead.

And it’s because of you.
It’s because of getting over
you, and that’s a blessing.
You gave me a gift I did not
know I needed.
And now that it is here,
watch how quickly it blossoms — if you can 
from where you are,
on your high horse.

I wish you well.
I always have.
I always will.
 — Don’t think you have
ever wanted me well, though.
And if you did, I was too
blind to see it.

©2019, The Universal Music Group, Drake: How About Now

Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium.

The Burden of Not Knowing Who You Are

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Flash Fiction

Photo by Bave Pictures on Unsplash

Khair is a 17-year-old Junior at Westend Grove High School. He is the eldest of four children and his mother’s pride and joy. Daveed, his father, is a 36-year-old artist from Marseille, France, and his mother, Taya is a 39-year-old marketing executive from Long Island, New York.

They live in Dix Hills, a suburban community on Long Island.

When your parents seem as though they have it all together and you have yet to decide which college you want to attend or what you want to do with your life, the weight of it is heavy.

He has carried it for at least three years — struggling to breathe and walk in the skin he inhabits. His brother and two sisters look up to him — they envy him.

But he does not feel as though they should envy him. Anxiety wells up in his body with each passing day.

Where will I go? Who will I be? What will I do? Ma knew she wanted to crunch numbers and pitch to multiple million-dollar companies when she was in junior high. Dad’s been an artist since he knew what watercolors were. What is my purpose? Where do I fit?

In the dead of night, those words crowd his mind — putting his brain on pause to everything else, even sleep.

I like tinkering. I like taking things apart and putting them back together again. I’m the best at tackling the Ikea furniture, but I don’t like math. So, no to engineering. I love astrology — the stars and their alignment with this universe. I can map anywhere we need to get to geographically, but I hate traveling — so no to being a professor of astronomy or geography. Damn it! Why am I like this?!

Khair lets these words pummel his mind into submission and another morning arrives without his eyes closing for at least two hours.

His day begins without him.

“Ma. Lemme ask you something, please.”

“Go ahead, son. You know you can ask me anything.”

“Is there something wrong with me? Aren’t I supposed to know what I want to do and which college I’d like to attend by now? Why do I have so many things I am good at, yet I can’t pin one down to figure out which one is the best for me?”

Taya stands back on the balls of her feet — balancing herself gracefully as she sips her superfoods decaf coffee before she speaks to her eldest son.

The sunlight kisses the blinds perfectly. Light glitters her face just above her eyes. She breathes in a worried sigh and says . . .

“Son, there is nothing wrong with you. You’re 17. You are dealing with growth at a level many will never experience. You’re advanced in all your courses, and you’ve spent hours exploring this world at a pace some scientists cannot fathom. You will know when you know. And then, you’ll know. You get me, son?”

Khair, with a puzzled look on his face, stares at the warm smile that covers his mother’s face, and doesn’t feel relief — but he won’t tell her.

“I get you, Ma. I get you.”

Daveed is not a worrier. He leaves the hard problems for Taya to handle, yet he has a way with his children that often keeps them coming to him for advice. He makes himself available every single time.

Khair tiptoes near the entrance of his dad’s studio and taps lightly on the door. Daveed signals for him to enter and smiles gently.

“Dad, you gotta moment to help me with something about life?”

“For you, my guy, I have several moments.”

Khair blushes. No matter how old he gets, he’ll always love when his father says, “My guy.”

“I don’t know myself. I don’t feel like I have a purpose in life. I don’t know what I want to do or what college I would like to attend and time is slipping away from me, and — “

Daveed cuts his son off with one hand raised mid-way to the air.

“My guy . . . whose timeline are you on? What’s going to happen if you don’t figure it out by the end of this year or even next? Nothing crucial, I assure you, Mon gars. Respire, juste respire.”

He breathes in deeply as his father advised — letting his chest rise up slowly and then down. He closes his eyes and inhales once more, then exhales.

“Thanks, Dad. I think I know what I want to do. I even think I know what college I want to attend, too. Love ya!”

Daveed looks at his son and nods in his direction approvingly.

“Je t’en prie, Mon gars. Je t’en prie. I love you, too.”

Khair opens his laptop, selects his favorite internet browser, and researches, “self-care consultant, As he reads each line of what he knew was his calling, the burden of not knowing who he was slowly faded away.

Originally published in soliloque via Medium.

In Real Time

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5 Words: Tell me what you’re grateful for

A few snapshots from the Erykah Badu & Yasiin Bey (Mos Def) “Unfollow Me” Tour

Live show
blessed my
s o u l

A few more snapshots from the Erykah Badu & Yasiin Bey (Mos Def) “Unfollow Me” Tour

Thank you to everyone who participated in the “Grateful in 5 Words” Challenge. This has been a blast! We have 11 pieces published (not including mine), and they will be featured on the homepage until Saturday, July 22, 2023.

Stay tuned for the next challenge in September!

Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium.