you almost made it be
losing this religion that brides within me
scriptures perching throughout the trees
a braille for these blinded eyes to struggle and see
waiting like tombs simply to be freed
fingers weeping, longing within this recluse of me
paled to the dreams fighting against the every day
baptized in a fire, soaked in the flames
confessing to centuries of monotony
….you almost made it be
-just breathe-
beyond the shallows
where your waves steep
extracting the flavors of the sea
in the rush of darkness,
i bloom most silently
into this garden of benthos, a blushing bride i become
where you in most ardent steps nakedly roam
clutching the tapestry of emeralds woven about my hair
draping upon the coral of my cheeks lending glitter to the foam
cradling the brine that blankets the secrets that i keep
where empty forests speak the language of me
and you, with lips of atlantis, unearth the diamonds of my deep
Surfing the Ether-Peter Pearson
This piece was inspired by a daily writing prompt I participate in where the word given was benthos. I’d no idea what it meant. Even in asking a friend, she was clueless too. Upon looking it up naturally said friend was jubilant at the fact she could now use newly discovered word in a game of Words With Friends.
I include this editorial here to express my adoration and appreciation for writing prompts. Not only do they expand my vocabulary, they push me out of my comfort zone in my writing. They have become a powerful ally in strengthening my writing and I encourage the participation with one.
As always, thank you for reading.
glass waves anchoring
the boundaries of the sea
where cerulean dreams wade
floating upon the quill of the clouds
-just breathe-
lace puddles
weave between the weeds of the sea
lapping slowly
gingerly
resting upon the shallows in she
barefoot in silt paths she roams
collecting pieces
from the liquid mirror shored
——for the sea remembers
captured these images from a day on the beach and was enraptured at how I was able to capture the cerulean in the waves. i’m thankful that in living on the coast, the ocean is in my backyard. like for most, the music of the waves is medicinal, replenishing ones soul. For more of my photography you can visit my gallery here.
the scars we wear, the scars we bear
ever present, no matter how faint they become, remembering the birth, the growth of every one
years of adapting, learning to heal, hiding the souvenirs you bear that keep them real
often, late at night, when the world is still, you let them slip out, perhaps a masochist’s way to heal
the slope though slippery, in freeing their voice, for darkness bids its welcome, giving you a choice
either walk its path and give in, or learn from those moments before a courage could begin
they are, after all, a part of you, so it is with strength to embrace the journey they took you through
Dream a Little Dream of Me–Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong
I am still on the adventure of listening to beloved love songs from a different perspective. To love one self is the best love affair after all so I found it fitting to pair scars with the lyrical and soulful beauty that is Ella Fitzgerald.
-just breathe-
this air we breathe
it carries me
beyond the clutter
of unspoken dreams
to this forest overgrowing in me
lending thread from thatch and moss
sewing wings
from leaves of most archaic of trees
-just breathe-
that bird upon my sill
o what silly one is he
so much he sings in that trumpet voice
in morning’s glory when all is still
o what silly one is he
for nobody hears his revelry
that song with no answers he sings
o but wait, the sun, there is she
rising there, quietly
yet not one glance he gives
in his confident rise
This week has been a difficult yet I hope, eye opening one for us all. A few days ago a fellow writer triggered my thoughts in asking “who was your first black teacher?” This piece was inspired by a poet I was introduced to in the fourth grade by my very first black teacher, Mrs. Baker.
It is always my English teachers that stand out to me during my school years and she is no exception. She introduced us to the works of Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson and the poet from which this piece is inspired, Maya Angelou. Inspired from her piece, And Still I Rise, I wrote maya reflecting upon that silly yet wise bird in us all with that small, seemingly insignificant voice, yet finding the courage to keep singing, even when you are pretty certain no one is listening.
I am so pleased and honored to share the debut collection of poems by someone I have watched grow in to the young adult he is today. Coming into my family’s life by way of my daughter, I have known Louis (his pen name) since the age of eight and have watched him grow into the college bound, goal oriented young man he is today.
It is with a great pleasure and honor that I can share his debut book of poetry just as he is headed off to college. Getting Over You, is a collection of poems inspired by the trials and tribulations, first loves, losses and growing up interracial and gay. The courage he has endured and the strength and solace he has found in writing offers us a glimpse through his tender yet resilient eyes of youth which can perhaps lend courage and strength to another teen struggling.
The link to Amazon is below where you can purchase Getting Over You in both Kindle and paperback. 
