I will be writing a poem a day for the month of April. This one is the fourth. I thought it would be more difficult, maybe it’s my new found free time. Enjoy!
A box
That held a gift
Once upon a time.
Soft pink and magenta stripes
Strip me down
To tears
I use it now
As a container
For who we were
Hand holders
Lovers
Kissers
Friends
Pictures memories letters
I’ve hidden
All remind me
That once we were happy
This is the third poem of the month. Warning: I do not now, nor have I ever, claimed to be a poet. I had no idea what third one would be until I started writing in my journal, yes I’m old fashioned I have an actual journal.
Worship
Rapid whispers of adoration
Hands lifted
Fingers stretching
For things unseen
Never quite reaching
Falling short
Pressing further
After six weeks of rehearsals, and toiling with music and choreo, it is finally time. It is Thursday night and the small performance space is packed. We all peek out from our makeshift dressing room and squeal in unison. Ladies in orange, green, purple, blue, red, brown, and yellow. Seven college students take off themselves in the makeshift dressing room and put on our colors. Nameless, but not voiceless. We slip off shoes and socks and teeter at the door. I’m not sure if we shiver because of the cold tile we stand on or from nerves.
“Five minutes to curtain,” the Director sticks his smiling face in, looking like a proud daddy.
“Thank you five,” we giggle and circle up for a prayer.
Prayers are sent up, nerves are released, house lights are out. The intro music begins and we all make our way to our spots, each of us scattered through the audience.
“Dark phrases of womanhood,” she begins.
It is effortless. The words all flow out, as if they belong to us. On and off, up and down. We twirl and cry and scream. The house stands and claps, we bow.
If you missed For Colored Girls last month, you’ll be able to see it May 4th at the Averitt Center. I had a great time acting in it. If you missed or if you already saw it you should definitely come check it out.
In my theater class today I was given one of the best writing prompts I’ve been given in a while. We were given three topics, Love, Hate, and Sex and given two minutes per topic to write as much as we could. We were not allowed to stop writing. Then we were required to edit all of the topics to 25 words all together. Here is my list:
LOVE
pessimist, sucks, hurts, real, conditional,
not reciprocated, pretend, sex, friends, lovers, helpless,
stupid, unnecessary, comfort, companionship, trust, lies, liars, cuddling,
HATE
lies, liars, fighting, lonely, independent,
false, enemies, friends, I don’t know, I don’t hate people,
I assume it is the opposite of “love”, of positive feelings for a thing,
Is it unprovoked? Do things
SEX
good, bad, ugly, special, fun, amazing oral,
Hands, fingers, tongues, couches, beds,
walls, cats, coffee tables, movies, excuses,
condoms, latex, naked, nice butt, suck,
kiss, cum, elated, satisfied, excited, shaking,
can’t move
Love, Hate, Sex: A poem
Real unconditional love
Hurts.
Sex, lovers, liars.
Good, bad, ugly.
Oral, hands, fingers, tongues.
Couches, beds
Naked.
Kiss, cum
Elated
Can’t move
This is a writing prompt from one of my English classes that produced a decent poem and some good material for an essay. I wanted to share.
***
Each of us has memories of Sunday afternoons. We think back to a particular time in our lives when Sunday and the routine of the afternoons were as predictable and as precious as air. Go back in your mind to one of those Sundays.
The year: 1988
Your age: 10
The setting: Chicago
The season: Winter
The weather: Snowy
***
Definitely, Next Time
Clouds cover the sun
Clean white snow stuck to the window pane
It’s pushed up against the curb, making mini mountains
Passing cars splash in black slush.
Searching on the tips of toes
Wide eyed up and down Cambridge Street
My hair is pressed, clothes creased,
Shoes tied, coat zipped, gloves dangle from my pocket
My mother stands in the doorway behind me
Arms crossed,
Waiting
The clouds move
Sunlight splashes on the walls
4:00, 5:00, 6:00
Sun sets behind the city scape
The lights of the city flash on
waiting
all dressed up and no one to see
If my weekend were an essay, that title would be the thesis. I encountered a series of very uncomfortable events that left me wondering if all men behave this way. I had a few experiences with a special breed of a–hole this weekend. It would be hilarious/unbelievable if it happened to any one else or on a sitcom. Let’s just say I was fooled by a Colgate worthy smile and some witty remarks. Shame on me.
I dated a guy for three years. He moves to 2500 miles and a 3hr time difference were of no assistance to the health of that relationship. Until very recently, we were attempting to be “friends.” How people manage to be friends with the person who wanted to marry them escapes me. Any way, I asked my “friend” if I could borrow some money about 2 weeks ago (Being a full time college student with no loans and a minimum wage part time job is no fun.) It was rent time I had just spent about $350 on books and I needed money. I couldn’t ask my parents, so I asked him. He gave it to me, and of course I intended on paying it back.
I got my paycheck just as Re-pay day rolled around and I am a dollar short. 4 quarters. 10 dimes. 20 nickels. 100 pennies. This man flips out! He says “I’m not being rude but you borrow $___, you return $____.” All I could say was you’re kidding me. It’s a dollar. So very long story short, I borrowed a dollar from someone else.
I was really shocked because this guy is supposed to really care about me and he sh-t a brick over a dollar.
curlyteri 