Browsing Category:

Poetry + Art

  • Poetry + Art

    Becoming Me

    the road to becoming is not easy,
    but it is clear.
    it is underneath layers of tears
    to cleanse,
    skin to shed,
    budding habits,
    and the waving leaves
    it works to develop new rings.

    i see her in my throat.
    Every now and again,
    she speaks–when confidence defeats.
    She is delight and a treat

    and although the road is not easy,
    there is freedom in the fact
    chrysalis will whither away
    and what is left is beyond majesty.
    The word has become a cliche’

    She is

    Dynamic will not do her justice
    Super is for caricatures
    Alluring is a weak modifier
    Charismatic is a given
    Beautiful need not to be recongized
    it is written in her name
    Bold does not compare
    Spontaneous is too meek
    Poise is the consensus
    Powerful does not quantify
    Large is an understatement
    Divine is too easy
    Intelligent is vague
    Ethereal is not enough
    Tough is too sensitive
    Influential is meager
    and busy is for bees.
    there is no word or
    kingdom for this species.
    nor is there a galaxy to hold

    She is
    without a doubt, and
    she lives
    in me


  • Poetry + Art

    On learning to control the fire

    Sometimes you have to
    pull back layers to get to the core
    un-bandage the wound to treat the sore
    strengthen those wings, so you can soar
    dive deeply so you can touch the ocean’s floor
    quiet yourself, so you can listen
    sit still, so you can read
    breathe in, so you can receive
    take a step back into a lunge
    get ready to get set
    so you can run


  • Poetry + Art

    the flow of letting go

    Releasing can be such sweet sorrow
    but ,O, the ways i will be better tomorrow.
    unmoved by the song
    and ceasing to dance along
    to the wave that confused
    yet has failed to produce

    Releasing has caused an outpour of tears
    that now allow my fears
    to be relinquished along
    with hopes of  passed futures
    and the drip feels good

    Releasing is sweetness
    after all letting go also means outsmarting weakness
    allowing one’s heart and spirit the space
    to now receive
    an overflowing stream of God’s blessings

    releasing has taught many lessons
    with them I take new direction
    I, now,  emancipate the things of the past
    that have not grown
    that have not shown
    to match the prosperity of my holy current


  • Poetry + Art

    Loving me: Let me explain

    I be busy lovin me
    Like I love spring breezes
    and honey suckle under shaded tree
    like popsicles on warm sunny days
    and bicycle splashes when I play
    like bees are too busy to sting
    and birds be chirpin high up in the trees

    I just be busy lovin me
    like the  last bite of my lunch time sammich
    and sunrises on beach mornings
    Like sculpting clay into a masterpiece
    and the sculptress is always me
    By the hands of God whom guides thee
    and I just be so thankful

    Chile, I just be too busy lovin me
    Like I love outrageously (and hopefully contagiously)
    My sometimes achy knees
    And always need to sneeze
    The soft dip in my back
    My itty bitty titties
    Peppery freckles
    The scent of my yoni, fresh fruits and flowers
    My little knubby fingers that hold this pen
    The almost invisible dimples that crate when I grin
    My noticeable double chin
    The sensitive ears that pick up the ancestors’ movement
    Delicate compassion
    and My cute but not so cute feet that
    Shine in the sun
    when I am on the run
    Toward destiny

    Loving me be like heaven
    and don’t we all strive to dwell in that peace,

    well that is why I’m always busy….


  • Poetry + Art

    Goddess to Queen

    Well, Queen, I’ll tell you
    life for me aint been no crystal stair

    It’s been made of earth
    muddy waters
    natural disasters,

    and beautiful

    I carried crates
    of unnecessary worry
    up the pasture
    I’ve planted flowers along the way
    sometimes I planted beautiful orchids
    sometimes plucked ethereal  fly traps


    many failed crops
    finally, my fruits feed, and
    my flowers peek prosperity
    along the rail
    now, fresh air and color prevails

    cuz I carry an umbrella decorated in seeds
    and when it rains
    they fall to the ground

    but I’se kept on climbing
    following the sun
    and reaching for light
    at the top, I met my peace
    on my staircase made of green

    because life for me aint never gon be
    a crystal stair