AI-Generated Image: A Black woman with locs looking at a photo album while sitting outside on a bench. She is wearing a jean jacket with a hot pink halter top under it. Her hot pink nails pop as they slide across the photo album.
Memory goes for a long walk. She carries one of her favorite photo albums with her. She is reminiscent of the times she and Rodney shared before marriage. Their friends always knew they would do life together — that they’d succeed in lassoing one another to their hearts. They did. And now she is searching for the feelings she used to have before marriage. She wonders where they have gone. Can she find them in the photos before her eyes? Discovering memories could serve her better than the past ever could. She’s desperate. She loves Rodney and wants to continue to spend the rest of her days with him. But she needs more. She craves more. Will she find what she’s looking for in the pictured past?
discovering life while the sun sets in full view bittersweet lovers
This concludes the Left-handed in a Dream Haibun series. Thank you so much for reading.
Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-BookandPaperback) yet?
I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak aboutthe most recent events with my place of employment as it pertains to racism and discrimination. I welcome your visit.
NaPoWriMo #29| Published in Chewers by Masticadores
It has been a long time coming (not really) since my acceptance email of the three poems I wrote for the express purpose of submitting to Chewers by Masticadores. I was delighted that they all made the cut and were published on Monday, April 28, 2025. However, I am sharing most of the published work here as my contribution for the 29th day of National Poetry Writing Month.
I hope you enjoy them!
My late maternal grandmother, Betty Louise Frazier. Photo Enhancement Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
Flair
A show-stopper– She never asked for acceptance But was given it in Full measure at every turn.
Advocate for People of Color And wanderers of this broken World, she struggled to save What could not be saved.
Dying must be a gift for Those of us who have been Giving so much of ourselves That the flair we once had Can only be restored if our last Breath is taken.
Forever a part of my broken heart, I’ll hold her in my memory bank And pull her from it when I need a reminder of someone Special who made me better.
From the Chrysler Museum of Art in Norfolk, VA. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
What Is Art?
Is it swirly whirls caked in Funny curls or sculpted crowns Matched with sequinned gowns?
Can it be chopped liver and Onions, mashed potatoes & gravy, And a side of hashbrowns?
Would you liken it to A couple on their first date– Woman and man about town?
Or could it be a banana peel Dressed in zeal, hanging daintily On a meshy wall turned Upside down?
I can’t tell you what art Is more than I can tell You what it is not, but I know it when I see it. And it never makes me frown.
The third and final poem, supertrE can be read by clicking this link. I hope you have enjoyed my offering to a publication I truly enjoy reading. Many thanks to Nolcha Fox for accepting these poems once again.
Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?
I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak about the most recent events with my place of employment as it pertains to racism and discrimination. I welcome your visit.
Because the dog was having trouble breathing, I didn’t get much sleep.
I stayed home from work to monitor her – the love of my life, my little monster.
And when she finally found sleep again, I drifted off, too. I couldn’t pin down an hour of sleep, so I got up.
I read. I wrote. I checked the dog’s breathing. Her allergies aren’t our friend this season. Benadryl is.
She dozed off again. I read. I ate lunch. I Netflixed by watching The Residence. 4 episodes in, and I am hooked!
Cupp is particular. She is calculated – a perfectionist. She questions everything. She examines the unimaginable. I understand her.
I’m falling in love with a show that plays hide-and-seek with my thought process and places me on the edge of my seat.
I wasn’t searching for a series that would be both intriguing and shocking – I loathe series. I have to be moved, perplexed, mesmerized, and changed.
The Residence dishes out all of this and more. It is the quintessential mainstay of perfection in a comedic mystery. I found my happy place while my dog struggled to breathe.
And I almost lost my breath, too.
NaPoWriMo is finished. I survived 30 days of posting poetry every day for another year. And to end it with this one feels magical.Thanks for doing April with me, folks. I appreciate you.
Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?
I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak about the most recent events with my place of employment as it pertains to racism and discrimination. I welcome your visit.
a gift to myself, but not really from myself – courtesy of the crush . . . birthday gift cards hit different, especially when you can buy all the things you’ve been eyeing and not with your own money.
as I listened to my decaffeinated coffee percolate and watched it trickle down into my new favorite mug, I wondered if it would taste better.
and, it did.
there is something orgasmic about sipping caramelized cocoa goodness with a hint of butter cream and savory mocha that sends my heart aflutter.
who knew an after-work hot beverage would boost low morale? I’ve needed this form of pick-me-up. it’s hitting all the right spots as I wait for the woman with my heart to return home safely.
she has captured it, you see . . . my heart, that is. and until I lock eyes with it again, I am a lowly soul tethered to her whims.
reminiscence begs for attention, and I find myself recalling a scene from The Golden Girls– Dorothy mentions to Blanche the irony of looking at oneself in the mirror while lying down – you’re not the same.
I know when I look at this new mug from this moment forward, a flicker of memories will flood my brain, and I will remember how it came to be a centerpiece in my cupboard.
and I, too, will never be the same.
Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-BookandPaperback) yet?
I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak aboutthe most recent events with my place of employment as it pertains to racism and discrimination. I welcome your visit.
Birthday Shenanigans #1. Thursday, April 17, 2025 (in the morning)
the 45th gave birth to smiles.
Birthday Shenanigans #2. Thursday, April 17, 2025 (in the morning)
Birthday Shenanigans #3. Ugh! That stupid loc is out of place!!! 😒😒😒Thursday, April 17, 2025 (in the afternoon)
I conquered some unwanted pesky demons.
Birthday Shenanigans #4. Thursday, April 17, 2025 (in the afternoon)
Birthday Shenanigans #5. Thursday, April 17, 2025 (in the evening) Dinner from my favorite Japanese Sushi & Steakhouse restaurant.
God decided–another year is necessary.
Birthday Shenanigans #6. Thursday, April 17, 2025 (in the evening) Dinner from my favorite Japanese Sushi & Steakhouse restaurant.
April 17, 2025, was my 45th birthday. The crush showered me with gifts from Sunday until Tuesday, and then a birthday text message yesterday evening. She said Wednesday’s gift will be late, but I am not concerned about that. NO ONE has ever given me a gift a day (and these are not inexpensive dollar amounts, either), leading up to my birthday to celebrate me. NO ONE! There are no words for that–I am still digesting it. I may have someone whose giving heart is bigger than mine. I don’t know how to deal with that because I am not usually the one receiving . . . I’m usually the giver. So . . . for at least two days, I was extremely emotional and told her so, and all she could say was, “Just enjoy it.” So, I did.
Of course, I told my very close people about this, and it’d gotten to be so much a part of my birthday week that messages were coming in with the question, “So, what’s today’s gift?” And I informed them of such. One of my friends said, “A gift a day leading up to your birthday?! BAYBAY, lemme holla at my husband!” My ex/very close friend said, “Now listen here . . . I did that for *insert his wife’s name here* for our 10th anniversary. Tre, as far as I am concerned, that’s your woman.” To which I responded, “Dude, I expect this from you. LOL. We’re not there yet. We may never be. Let’s remember, she’s straight.” One of my co-workers said, “She finna be your future boo, Tre! Who is out here giving folks a gift-a-day up to their birthday and they’re not together?!” *Sighs*
I do not know how the dating world works anymore. I’ve not been in it for Y E A R S. But apparently, people don’t hear you when you say, “No, we’re just opening up a bit more with each other since I shot my shot. That’s all.”
Karen and two of my cousins loaded my account up with money. I had so many text messages and phone calls that my heart nearly exploded from the love that poured all over me. I am beyond blessed. Therapy was a necessary thing to have, and I told my psychologist I finally let the crush know, as he was waiting to see if I could conquer that hill in my life. I did. And since that monkey has been off my back, I have been breathing a bit easier.
I think life is probably going to stop lifeing for just a bit. We’ll see how long that lasts.
Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-BookandPaperback) yet?
I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak aboutthe most recent events with my place of employment as it pertains to racism and discrimination. I welcome your visit.
Some parts of this poem are fiction–some of it is non-fiction. Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-BookandPaperback) yet?
I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak aboutthe most recent events with my place of employment as it pertains to racism and discrimination. I welcome your visit.
A Cornered Gurl 
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