Featured Poem of the Week

Deb Ewing landed on Medium this past month and she has been lighting the platform up ever since! When she reached out to me to become a writer for A Cornered Gurl, I was beside myself with glee for I had been following her on Twitter. When I say this woman is a fireball, trust & believe she is that. Her writing shows no fear: it is raw and intense. I want nothing more than to read her writing over and over again. I am glad I get to be one of her editors.

The piece that lands her the feature for this week is her second contribution to ACG and it is aptly titled, “hate speech.” Not only is she an incredible writer, but she is also a visual artist. The artwork you see accompanying her poem is hers. You will not be disappointed. I guarantee it.


hate speech

you don’t see the cavity right away

Tongues, art by debora Ewing

you don’t see the cavity
right away

it slips between etiquette
and camaraderie
testing the atmosphere

where allowed, it swells
into a sandwich, eaten
by those craving sustenance

but the comfort of bread
only soaks up the serum
leaking out from what
might have been
meat

it crawls up the gullet
takes a life of its own
proclaims smiling

You Let This Happen

and you did.


Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium.

Featured Poem of the Week

Abdullah I. Shawaf emailed me recently to be added to A Cornered Gurl. I had read a few pieces of his via Medium and enjoyed each of them. To receive that email, struck a chord in me, one that was happy to be awakened. His first contribution to ACG is a heartfelt piece personifying love and how love would react if we as humans asked it how it truly felt about its role in life–about its role as something we chase, yet handle so carelessly at times. I was happy to receive this piece in the ACG queue, review it, edit only a few areas, and get it published. I am honored to share this poetry-prose piece and Abdullah I. Shawaf with each of you.


When We Asked Love, Who Are You and Where Do You Exist?

As he was eager to be asked, he told us about the place where everything seems darkened and hopeless.

Photo by Ed Robertson on Unsplash

The greatest combat in history happened between love and hatred in a neutral heart — when both of the armies held a sign: “A winner takes what he puts his hands on, and the loser loses his right to vote.”

There we asked Love, one of the survivors, who are you?
And as he was eager to be asked, he answered:

I’m a flower shining in the dark, trying to forget that flowers need light to survive.

I’m a leashed power that stayed on the war line for a complete life, willing to change but not having the green light.

I am the survivor of the cold war, where survivors tell the story before they are gone.

Where soldiers’ powers are made of life events, and their colors are either darkened or blank.

Where the two sides fighting who will be the part who takes over and drives.

And from there, the events were to decide whether the heart leans to the good or the bad side.

Then I realized that no one controls his life, as his events shaped his mind.

No one was born violent, but what changed him is his environment.

I’m convinced the first call to racism was a joke that made everyone laugh, but the victim, he cried and got more soldiers on the hatred side.

He was upset by how people throw their words like daggers, and they don’t care about how much it hurts. And soon, racism was no longer a joke; it became a thought.

But one thing is sure; no one completely changes.

No matter how much hatred is there, there will be love somewhere.

You will find love in the strangest places where you never expected, it exists there.

It’s hidden, deep and covered under the ashes, waiting for the chance to be unleashed.

And soon it will be.


Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium.

Featured Poem of the Week

Sylph Hemery contacted me recently to be added to A Cornered Gurl and I reviewed her profile, read some emotional and relatable pieces and knew she’d be a great addition to our community. Below is her first contribution. I connected with it upon the first read. Here’s hoping you will too.


Some Poems Spill Out

Free Verse

Photo by Paweł Czerwiński on Unsplash

My crammed heart, chokes, splits open.
Dis-enslaved blood bestrews the naked page.

The wine red drops speak in tongues,
Ecstatic searchings for sacred words with hands

To hoist me up,
To steady the teeterings and quakes,
To sate my spine with pristine dignity.

In these words, I stand without cowering,
Scoured of hunching shame, brave.


Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium.

Featured Poem of the Week

Jackie Ann

Jackie Ann burst onto the scene via Medium at least three years ago now and when she did, I was right there eager to read her exceptional work. When she asked to be a contributor to A Cornered Gurl, it was a no-brainer for me. Her work fits the publication perfectly. She has a way of hitting you in the heart with uppercuts but delicately letting you down gently. She is the perfect combination of power and sincerity and I am happy that I came across her work when I did. And now, her featured poem . . .

An Outstretched Heart

pixabay.com

I thought love
was a fragile thing, a leaf
in late September;
something you treasure
for a limited time

But my love was red
then blue
then blind,
every kind
of joy and pain;
the summit of strength
then a tidal wave
crumbling the mountain
What could be stronger
than the creator
and the destroyer
together
as one

I thought love
was destiny, a whispering wind
at your doorstep
and no doorstep is too far
to be found

But you were not born
to be found;
you were born
to seek —
to plant seeds,
to nurture the roots
and the leaves;
the emerald veins
that sprout
from fertile ground
You were born
to be the sun
that warms
its petals
and makes them reach
for your open arms

Such a tender thing,
an outstretched heart.


Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium.

Featured Poem of the Week

Susan Brearly

She brings with her, wisdom, experience, and the gift of gab within various forms of writing. She is unafraid to share what needs to be shared, regardless of its content. What she has given to A Cornered Gurl cannot be described. With each piece, new eyes set their sights on our small community and there’s no doubt that we will continue to grow. Her poem Syncopation is this week’s feature.

Syncopation

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

Ah, my heart.
Jumping, fluttering, pausing
In syncopation.

A defect, 
modern science informs.

Lying still 
hear it, feel it
Reminding
every moment
This is the SPARK

Life, the gift

Death lingers, 
lingers in the pause, the void,
between this beat and the next.

A child’s terror
Knowing.

Listen
MY BREATH, MY HEART
It stopped.

No, they say. 
Your mind, it’s there.

Again. 
Again.
Again.
Night after night.
Terror.
Certainty.
Death is near.
Death is here.

Passion’s embrace.
Remember, heart says.
You are fragile
in this flutter
in this pause
in this deep murmur, the silence in the space between breaths,
an echo chamber of the universe
that whispers, “death is near, death is here.”

Whispering, “choose . . .”
Life?
Or Death?

I choose to move.

I run.


Thanks, Jennifer Kindera for this great article

*Children who are telling you about their very real physical experiences need empathy and the full gift of your attention and time. Believe them; believe in them.


Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium.