Tag: Substack poems

cold-turkeying a love & As Christmas Comes To an End

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Two poems shared on Substack notes

AI-Generated Image: A Black woman with locs, wearing glasses, sitting on her bed, writing in a journal. 

cold-turkeying a love

I’m cold-turkeying a love I should have
left when I first realized it was time
to leave before I become
cold-hearted.

As Christmas Comes To an End

I am locked into Broncos and Chiefs,
and Prime was glitching earlier, no
rhyme or reason to the delay, but I
remain tuned in; first quarter took a while
To warm up — old Buick, winter weather…
breathe, you’ll get it.

My cousin’s text message breaks my
attention, and I see the preview for a
photo and a video, and instantly, I’m
reminded of how much fun we used to
have as children — “Popcorn Loving”
our way down the block.

New Edition was a drug of choice.
7 and 9-year-olds shouldn’t know anything
about crushes, but we were latchkey kids, raising
ourselves from the hours of 3 PM to 8 PM.
We were curious, and curiosity was meant
to kill us, but it didn’t.
We survived the block.

And even though we’re so far removed
from the neighborhood that reared us through
grade school, pieces of it still breathe life
into us.

Christmas is ending, and I remember the
past while braving my present.
What does the future have for me to live
through next?

I guess… we’ll have
to see.

Have you gotten your copy of Séduire: Serial Tales & Flash Fiction at Lulu in E-Book & Paperback versions, or Amazon in Paperback (only) yet?

I am on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing, as I discuss recent events related to my previous place of employment, including racism and discrimination, the growth I experienced after resigning from that company, and the foibles and overall experiences of life. I welcome your visit.

the carelessness of the few & a griseous morning

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Two poems written on Substack notes

the carelessness of the few

if millions of breathing beings
proscribed evildoers and those greedy
enough to shake down the poor and
oppressed, we wouldn’t be dancing
in a pit of flames, trying our best to
outrun the burn.

but here we are…
walking on lit coal, struggling to stay
sane, and clapping away fire that aligns
itself with our truths.
we had the tools to succeed politically,
however, many were afraid to see how
well they worked.

and now, we’re all
drowning in this
inescapable Hell.

a griseous morning

morning isn’t sashaying over to
me as it’s done the
past few days.

it appears sullen,
griseous, and
downtrodden.

I don’t have the
words to heal the ache it feels, but
I offer a few anyway.

it wanders around my home,
anxious to see which one of us
will break first.

I’ve got news for it…
it won’t be 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.