Yes, I want to be a writer; why is that a problem?

Hi, Readers,

I know I've been slacking; these last few weeks of the semester are crunch time, so I'm focused on getting these grades right and start my new journey at Rutgers University next fall (yay!). In the last few weeks, more than usual I've been asked what it is exactly I want to do with my life. My answer is usually, "I'm only a sophomore. I have enough time to figure all of that out." That's the safe answer. What I really want to say is: I'm working towards being a really famous writer someday. I don't say it often because I get weird looks and the "Oh, well you know they don't make a lot of money." *Rolls eyes* Or they'll ask about my major and say (very condescendingly), "Oh, you want to be a teacher? They don't make a lot of money. Being a teacher is not easy." *Rolls eyes again* 

I always knew I didn't want some boring desk job answering phones, staring at a computer all day, going to boring meetings. I wanted to do something that I had complete control over. With the help of my 10th grade English teacher, I realized that one, I was pretty damn good at writing poetry, and two, that this was something I could do. How I was going to get to that point was a different story, but that was what I was focused on. Every year since then my writing has improved drastically. I get better and better every time I write a new piece. I read other poets' beautifully written work, and I think, Jada, this could be you someday. 

Being an artist is not easy, whether it's a writer, an actor, a painter, etc. I'm very well aware of that. But why would I not do something I love for the rest of my life? You hear about these CEOs who leave their jobs, making crazy money, to go live a simpler life? Because they're happier that way. To some people, money is everything. They want to live that lavish lifestyle. I'm not into that. As long as I have enough for food and a roof over my head, why am I complaining? God always makes a way.

So please, do not talk to me about doing something else or finding something else. I will not listen to you, you will be wasting your time, and it's only going to piss me off and prove you wrong even more. Either be on my side and help me on my journey or get out of my way and watch me succeed. People are going to know my name. They are going to read my books in school, for leisure. I'm going to touch people with my words.

Why can't you see that it is a beautiful thing to be able to create images and stories with words? It's amazing. I feel sorry for you for looking down on people who can do that. 

Don't let people tell you that you shouldn't do something because it doesn't seem practical. Do it anyway to prove to them that you could but also more so for yourself, that you can do it. 

XOXO,
Jay

Flashback: Permanent Ink Pt. II

I was looking through my Google Docs for all my old poems and stumbled upon this. Isn't it amazing to find something years later? I thought, did I really write this?! Enjoy!

I never wanted to love in permanent ink because I knew that 
one day it would be all I had left. But I didn’t want to forget those 
moments for they were precious segments of time that needed 
to be captured. In blue ink I inscribed just about every beautiful 
episode for batum, so that I could replay them when the stars 
were the only things that accompanied me. My blue ink continued to 
scribe, even the nightmares. I couldn’t wake up from those terrors. 
Even worse, they were now apart of me. Like a broken record, 
they kept showing themselves behind my lids over and over again. 
They wouldn’t wash away like ink on skin because they had replaced 
each inch of my flesh. I was ready to play Russian Roulette. 
All I had was one shot. And all of it would end. But the safety kicked in 
when I pulled the trigger and my life flashed before my eyes. Staring at this 
piece of steel, it transformed into the one who had bequeathed me the pen 
in the first place. Never regret loving in permanent ink but I let it consume me 
and take over me. I won’t be careless with this blue ink anymore. 
Trading in such things for new ones will only be my ultimate downfall. 
The ugly scars left behind are now simple remnants of my old self. 
So I prance on Earth’s shoulders, scarred and all. 
One day someone will see past my imperfections and I will too.

Reign

And he fell like rain on a Thursday afternoon.

"And on this day, a blog was born."

Happy birthday to my blog!! This totally snuck up on me (thanks for the reminder Facebook!). I cannot believe a year ago today I created my blog. I've seen myself grow so much as a writer in this year. Thank you to those of you who take the time out and read my posts. I appreciate it so much. I haven't had much time to write like I want to, but I hope to get some more pieces done by the end of this week. 

Here's to Year 2! 

XOXO,
Jay 

Forget Me Not

This morning I stood by my window sill as the April
showers fell ever so lightly against the white panes, the
petrichor filling my lungs as I clipped away the stems
of forget-me-nots. I thought of giving instead the white
oleanders in milk--but I loved you too much to cause
that much pain. These blues will be my memory for you just
as these scars are your memory. Does your heart break when you
hear my name? All I ever wanted was to dance in your
arms way past midnight. I attach kisses and teardrops to
each petal along with the very lasts of you that live
in me. I wrap the flowers in the best ribbon of blue
and place them six feet above where you lie. Forgive me, love,
I know not what I do, love. I could not stop loving you.

Resistance to the Strong Black Woman Mantra

From birth we are nurtured to never show signs of weakness

because America was built on our fore-mothers' backs

and they did not break.

They bore children to a man that was never theirs

Had to lie on their backs

and brace themselves against the abuse 

that was thrust through her body.

She hurt but she did not cry.

We are told to never let a man violate

that which is most sacred

and to never believe what he appears to be.

Little girl, they say, you don't know what love is

You have all the time in the world for all of that.

What got me was that if I got my little heart broken

I better not show him that he hurt me.

Let no straw break your back.

But I loved someone whom at one point loved me too.

Let me cry a little.

Therapy Session

grown woman sits propped between 
Momma's big brown legs 
head resting against her thighs 
weighed down by memory
Momma has a brown comb in her hand
parting her hair and scratching her scalp
grown woman is suddenly little girl again
gritting her teeth and wincing at 
the pulling of her thick, coily mane
Momma is singing her a blues
she tried hard to forget
trying to scratch that memory out 
of her baby's head
she sighs and rolls her big brown eyes
until Momma sings an end she never heard of
and comes to understand a Mother's love
grown woman/little girl
folds herself into Momma's arms
and thanks her with tears

Happy National Poetry Month!

Readers!

It's the time of year again! National Poetry Month is back, and it is the perfect opportunity to get back into the groove of writing. I will try to write for these 30 days, but as this semester of college is coming to an end and I'm making a huge transition in my life, it may not happen. But I will really try! I am on the hunt for really cool writing prompts, so if and when I see any I will update the list below. The new ones will be in bold. I'm not a fan of prompts because I can't always find ones that I like, but I will try some if I'm really stuck.

Happy Writing!
Jay

30 Writing Prompts
1. Find a newspaper article and blackout the words you don't like/want to create a poem.
2. Write a poem from the perspective of an inanimate object.
3. Write a resistance poem. There are many forms of resistance, including militant resistance, resistance to new ideas, the resistance in exercise, and maybe even a little resistance to starting a new project. I hope you don’t resist the urge to write a poem today. (Writer's Digest)
4. Write a secret poem. The poem itself could be a secret, or it could be about keeping secrets or, I suppose, not keeping them. Or maybe it’s about a top secret project, or the poem is a riddle with some sort of secret meaning. Or, well, I’ll let you figure out how best to poem secretively. (Writer's Digest)
5. Write a fourteener. Fourteeners can be have any number of lines, but each line should have fourteen syllables. Traditionally, each line consisted of seven iambic feet (i.e., an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable, times seven), but non-iambic fourteeners also exist. (NaPoWriMo.net)
6. Write a departure poem. Many people depart to school and/or work every day, and they depart on a plane, train, or automobile–some even walk or ride a bike. Of course, that’s keeping things rather physical; there are also emotional and psychological departures. You may even decide to make a departure from your normal writing style in tone or structure today. (Writer's Digest)
7.  Write a “loveless” love poem. Don’t use the word love! And avoid the flowers and rainbows. And if you’re not in the mood for love? Well, the flip-side of the love poem – the break-up poem – is another staple of the poet’s repertoire. If that’s more your speed at present, try writing one of those, but again, avoid thunder, rain, and lines beginning with a plaintive “why”? Try to write a poem that expresses the feeling of love or lovelorn-ness without the traditional trappings you associate with the subject matter. (NaPoWriMo.net)
8. Write a things-not-as-they-appear poem. Poetry is filled with metaphors, similes, symbols, and layered meanings, so this should be a softball prompt. If you’re struggling, look at your current surroundings, pick an object, and turn it into a metaphor for something. Or think of somebody in the real world (mail person, gas station attendant, etc.) and make up a secret double life for them. (Writer's Digest)
9. The poet, Rudy Francisco, wrote what he calls his "Honest Poem." Use this outline from this site (http://ttinkin.com/2014/04/07/honestpoems/) to create your own honest poem.
10. It's April! "April showers bring May flowers...." Write a poem about rain without using the word rain. Find other ways to describe it (fun fact: petrichor is the scent of rain, hmm!) Have fun!
11. Start a poem off with the phrase "I have come to know..." Use it to tell a truth you've never said outloud before. This one can be particularly therapeutic.