Oh, Grief.

Pictured Poetry created by Tremaine L. Loadholt


Pictured Poetry created by Tremaine L. Loadholt

The recommended calming treats, complete with CBD oil, have been ordered for my little monster.

I’m praying, upon their arrival, they will help with her anxiety. She has been keeping me up some nights, and Mommy is not a happy camper about this.

That’s the life of a senior dog parent, though, right? Right.

A Bisexual Woman’s Lament: I Don’t Need Valentine’s Day

An audio lamentation

Photo by Marwan Ahmed on Unsplash
A Bisexual Woman’s Lament ©2023 Tremaine L. Loadholt

Another day of love for lovers is here,
and I am unbothered by the frenzy and
unfulfilled purposed people struggling
to find the best gifts for others they
half love Monday through Thursday, and
find themselves wanting to be rid of by

I smile. I smirk. I know where it all ends, 
and sadly, where it will begin again, and
I say, “I don’t need Valentine’s Day to
express my love for another — to let them
know I truly care. If I love you, you know.
I tell you. I show you.”
And I get stares that seem to skitter
about from the eyes and roll off to
skim through my thoughts.

I said what I said.
And I meant it.

My mother is the only person who
can call me and say, “Happy Valentine’s Day,”
and I don’t flinch or cringe — she has done
it for decades now. Ain’t no stopping her.
The pressure that comes with this day
is abhorrent. 
I have seen people take their last 
$50.00 to semi-splurge on 
things their loved one didn’t need.

And here we are, living during a time
when four gallons of gas will probably
cause you to get evicted. 
Do what you want with your money, I know
what I will be doing with mine.

This day reappears yearly, and it’s the same
charade setting itself up on 
bended knees to knock every participant
down and out before they can utter
half-hearted “I love yous.”

Commercialism at its finest.

And you’ll succumb. You’ll buy the roses.
You’ll book the restaurant reservation.
You’ll get the diamonds and pearls and 
toe the line of bankruptcy to 
fulfill an empty heart that only really
needs you — that only really needs . . . love.

I’ll try not to put my foot too far in my mouth,
because I am loving a woman who will 
one day have me running out to find
the best thing suited for the whole of her — of who
she is — Valentine’s Day, included among all

If it’ll draw that dimpled smile from her 
face for eleven seconds, I’d succumb, too.
But for now, I don’t need Valentine’s Day.
It can’t have what I have and won’t give
me what I want — what I need.

I’ll sit back and watch and wonder 
how much longer we’ll dive into
the moneymaking day of love that still
manages to leave people depressed
when the day is done.

We are knee-deep in its throes . . .
bound to sink in its making faster
than we ever could in quicksand.

Originally published at Prism & Pen via Medium.

℗ 2000 Hidden Beach Records, Jill Scott, Slowly Surely

a poem for Victoria

on her birthday

Photo collage of Victoria (one of me sprinkled in, too). Created by Tremaine L. Loadholt. All photos taken by Victoria Georges
a poem for Victoria by Tremaine L. Loadholt

here you are; a warm welcome,
renewed spirit, confident and
secure — a peace I didn’t know
I needed.
my heart wells up with joy
at the thought of your growth — 
how amazing you are, and
the similarities sitting in
your heart — so much like your
mother but clearly your
own self.

I stand in awe of you.
I remember when you
were born, how happy
your parents were, and I
lived for the updated photos,
stories, and time spent with
my little cousin who had a
smile that could shame the sun.

so far away, always so far
away — yet near enough to
dwell in my mind — take up
space I had no problem lending.
you are a glorious, strong force
in a world of terror and pain.

you pick up everything
whenever you’re ready,
relocate to places with
half-hearted moons and
split-tongue warriors with
gray eyes.

we all live vicariously through
you — we may not say it but
we think it.
free spirit — unafraid to make
moves when moves need to
be made, and on this, your
day of birth, I want you to know
that I love you to
the full-bodied moon and
back again.

there will be pregnant pauses
for the rest of my day as I
share time with my thoughts
to appreciate your existence.
happy birthday, Victoria.
God gift you years upon
years upon years more.

©2023 Tremaine L. Loadholt

On Tuesday, February 07, 2023, my little cousin (Chrissy’s daughter) celebrated another year on this Earth, and I wrote this for her. Thank you for reading, and for listening, too. Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium.

Love Is a Beautiful, Blossoming, Evergreen Thing

And I am here for it.

I love my family. My cousins and I, at my baby cousin, Caison’s basketball game. Photo Credit/Collage: Tremaine L. Loadholt & Akua Montgomery

I LOVE love. The beauty of it knows no bounds. I wish more of us knew what true, complete, satisfying love felt like.