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. 

Homeless

she wanders down the middle of the one-way
too disoriented to pay attention to traffic
                                   yet focused
feet bare and covered in sporadic spots of blood
half           scattered black dress
like her broken heart

rain pours but she is unbothered
even if she cannot see
her heart knows where to go
they say, carry ya drunk tail home, girl
                                   she's too involved to notice

she begins to hum a series of anharmonic tunes
her arms and legs eventually joining in on this
uncoordinated          dance
is this good enough for you yet, love?
she calls to no one
she's not even sure if it's the rain or her own tears now
                                  she never wanted to play the fool

but he found her in an alley
licking her wounds from a previous beating
and nursed her good enough to love her
          good enough to love me?

now she can't find her way home
it was the last place he held her
                                and said, I love you.

Runaway

as soon as I pass the threshold
my knees press hard and deep into dirt and rocks

hands clasped together
shivering violently

God I don't know how to pray
but please get him away from me

his chip is still on my shoulder
his stench still strong in my nostrils

I can hear his memory calling my name behind me
and I'm trembling off of my knees

and into a run
tears flowing like rivers again

I'm trying to keep my head above the waters
but I feel him growing closer and closer

my natural instinct is to turn to him and embrace him
run into his arms like a child to its mother

because they were the only things
that once made me feel safe

but my ribs are still bruised from the last lashings
and if he touches them I swear they'll fall apart

I keep running
but he's always just a step behind me

Enuf by Ntozake Shange

In honor of Women's History Month, I have to publish this poem by Ntozake Shange. She is one of my favorite poets ever, maybe even my number one favorite! The language she uses and the stories she tells are so hypnotizing. I hope you enjoy this one!

at 4:30 AM
she rose
movin the arms & legs that trapped her
she sighed affirmin the sculptured man
& made herself a bath
of dark musk oil egyptian crystals
& florida water to remove his smell
to wash away the glitter
to watch the butterflies melt into
suds & the rhinestones fall beneath
her buttocks like smooth pebbles
in a missouri creek
layin in water
she became herself
ordinary
brown braided woman
with big legs & full hips
reglar
seriously intendin to finish her
night's work
she quickly walked to her guest
straddled on her pillows & began
you'll have to go now /
i've
a lot of work to do / & i
cant
with a man around / here
are yr pants /
there's coffee on the
stove / it's been
very nice / but i cant see
you again /
you got what you came
for / didnt you'
& she smiled
he wd either mumble curses bout crazy bitches
or sit dumbfounded
while she repeated
æi cdnt possibly wake up / with
a strange man in my bed / why
dont you go home'
she cda been slapped upside the head
or verbally challenged
but she never waz
& the ones who fell prey to the
dazzle of hips painted with
orange blossoms & magnolia scented wrists
had wanted no more
than to lay between her sparklin thighs
& had planned on leaving before dawn
& she had been so divine
devastatingly bizarre the way
her mouth fit round
& now she stood a 
reglar colored girl
fulla the same malice
livid indifference as a sistah
worn from supportin a wd be hornplayer
or waiting by the window
& they knew
& left in a hurry
she wd gather her tinsel &
jewels from the tub
& laugh gayly or vengeful
she stored her silk roses by her bed
& when she finished writin
the account of her exploit in a diary
embroidered with lilies & moonstones
she placed the rose behind her ear

& cried herself to sleep. 

10 Breaths

1. 
i feel broke
i feel broken

2. 
i built a wall around my heart 
after the first time it burst like fireworks in my chest

3. 
but somehow you broke in and found your way to its center
and to my surprise it was strong enough to take you

4. 
but you plucked your root as you walked out of the door
and it burst again
bleeding questions and confusion

5. 
i can't breathe

6. 
i could feel my heart cracking as i inhale

7. 
your smile wasn't for me anymore
it took me till now to figure that out

8. 
i hold my breath when people hug me
i used to enjoy it but i now fear it
because they might break me too

9. 
my frame is so fragile
and when you dropped me 
i shattered like fine china on wooden floors
i'm still cutting my brown skin on pieces i can't find
leaving traces of blood hoping you'll find
your way back to me.

10. Breathe.
i can't.

Breathe.
i can't.

Breathe.
i hate you but i will still make excuses for you

Breathe. 
if you couldn't handle my kind of love
you should have just said so.
now i'm walking around drunk off of your 
half-empty crystals of broken promises

Breathe.
don't come back again
i'll fix myself up good enough to love you again.