Tag: Poetry

Poem for an Image

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#3: Saturday Sweet Treat

The Culprit. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

I bit into the cookie butter
goodness and relished Biscoff,
transported to my first flight
amongst the “friendly skies.”

My body nearly convulsed
from the sugary deliciousness,
but I remained calm.

How can something so small
pack such an intense taste
and lure me into wanting more?

It’s Saturday, Self-Care Day,
and I cared for myself by
stealing a sweet treat while
my senior dog snored in the
background; heavenly bliss.

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.

pigeonholed & sidereal

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Two poems shared on Substack notes

pigeonholed

I never wanted to be
pigeonholed into a
category ill-fitting for
what and how I write.

I don’t know where I
should be or why, but
I do know I can write
whatever I am
assigned. I always
have been able to
create and build
characters out of
thin air.

Poetry is my salve.
Fiction is sustenance.
Nonfiction is time
delegating a few
memories to those
willing to consume.

I am a bustling soul
linked to ancestors
who told stories
about lifestyles and
enslavement.

I am my great-grandmother’s
twin; I have her eyes,
her lips, her walk,
and her mannerisms;

I’m the walking dead.

sidereal

she is out of this
world–a sidereal
creature crafted by
the best God I’ve
ever known.

a crush I’ve crushed
on, and probably will
until time leaves me
breathless. we hang
on every word that
pours from our lips.

I’ve become
complacent in the
knowing of her
presence–she’s
steadfast in being
here, and the
moment I shift my
presence, she glues
herself to everything
I’m connected to.

I would typically
leave, a ghost with
nothing to lose, but
she has galaxies for
eyes, and I am
forever cursed by
her.

I’m stone, unable to
be chiseled, unable
to break.
and secretly, she
loves it.

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.

Poem for an Image

trE

#2: Deer Alert (Deer Season)

A loner, but just down the block would be an entire family. However, they all ran off as soon as I got close enough for the perfect shot of them. I am sure this one was standing at attention, keeping its eyes on me as I got closer to them. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

Deer Season

Dear Deer Season, we normally
don’t meet on these terms, but
I’ve seen many does and not
that many bucks, and I am
wondering, will there be
any mating this year?

I know you’d much rather keep
it all a secret and surprise me
on my walks with new additions,
struggling to keep up with
the bevy, but I need to know
which corners to avoid
because Daddy Deer isn’t as
friendly.

I haven’t planned on using
running mode with these
knees, but if I need to
kick up my gears, I’ll
gladly do so if a male is
spotted and is in search of
heat that I can’t produce.

“Death by Deer” isn’t a
phrase I envisioned on
my tombstone.

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.

pulse

trE

a stranger cupped my
hand in hers at the curb
of the crosswalk, and looked
at me pleadingly.

I am funny about touch if
I don’t know you, and sometimes
even when I do, but I knew
something was wrong
when I saw her eyes dancing
like they were running away
from terror.

I tilted my head and leaned
into her personal space and
smelled fear.
caution warned me not
to turn around, so I didn’t,
but I could hear him
breathing.

a cop–woman, stood by
her cruiser a block away,
and sitting shotgun was her
partner. I looked at her, raising
my tethered hand, and then
looked at the silent woman,
and the cop knew.

the man started running
as soon as their eyes locked.
the silent woman sat in
the backseat, and closed
the cruiser’s door.

I walked two blocks home,
dangling my hand at my
side, twiddling my fingers,
feeling the lonesome lack of
the woman’s grip.

I prayed for her safety as
my pulse quickened.

This was my dream from last night. I hope it isn’t a premonition or a vision into what will happen.

Poem for an Image

trE

#1: Jernee Timid, Princess Extraordinnaire

Jernee Timid: This was taken on a “good” day, August 15, 2025. Her right eye is in and out of healing. Something’s causing it to fill with blood, and then it’ll dissolve and won’t appear again for days. $920.72 spent on August 03, 2025, has NOT resolved the issue.

Jernee’s living her best life
during her last days–Princess Puppy
striking a pose–braving a
lucid moment…
she’s my heart’s beats
outside of me.

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.

catastrophic love & have we come far enough?

trE

Two poems shared on Substack notes

catastrophic love

his blithesome
demeanor captured
me.

I lost all of my
selves swimming
in the depths of his
eyes.

I was disruption;
a distraction…
we bombed before
we could elevate.

catastrophic love.

have we come far enough?

although I am the
eldest child, if this
were the 1500s or
I was of royal blood,
my arrival to first
would mean
nothing because the
next born has the
package; male
primogeniture cut me
to the quick.

imagine being the
first, most
dependable, always
responsible, and a
doer without being
prompted, yet your
earned position in
life depends on
what’s between your
legs.

that’s not a life I
would have enjoyed
living, but when I
assess modern
times and the fight
women constantly
battle, the system
is still rigged to
embrace the least
educated, the most
aggressive, and the
overly-praised, so…

how far have we
come, really?

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.