Poetry
My words.
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POEM: Elegy: Cousin Tish – Baby Woman Mother
Elegy: Cousin Tish – Baby Woman Mother Playing house is different with baby cousins, lil’ brothers and sisters and the mannish boys in the neighborhood. Who needs a fake baby with real baby cousins in reach? Tish was a chubby, curly-haired infant, rosy-cheeked girly-girl toddler adorable, rambunctious, loved. Rolling over, pushing up learning to walk, run circles around folks from the house and yard to Grandma’s vegetable garden; real life cabbage patch doll blooming up and down the street, burrowing roots, extending networks. Too soon, I was no fun; just a boring old cousin to a womanish girl who preferred smokin’ weed as boys circled and plotted in her haze.…
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IG Live Reading @UrbanExpo
The poems read were selected from Clichés: A Life in Verse, Desert of Solitude: Refreshed by Grace, and I AM Woman: Experiences of Black Womanhood. All the books are available for order in my store and on Amazon.com (quicker with discounts).
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Poem: Sister, Sister II
She avoided me for eleven years. Whatever her reasons, no rejection has ever hurt more. Most of those absent years she called me on my birthday to let me know she was still alive. Quite honestly, her voice was the best present every time. **Read full post.**
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Poem: Be Anything
I had such bright hopes and dreams when I believed I could be anything I tried strived over-achieved if thoughts manifest reality the American Dream wouldn’t be unreachable and life would be different all I truly wanted was freedom to be me without threat, violence shame or compromise how tragic being me proved to be the hardest thing ~ LaShawnda Jones, 2020
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Poem: Trauma of the unseen by LaShawnda Jones
Impossible to know if the Traumatized have no awareness of their state One revels in solitude because loneliness has become a way of life ** Follow link to read in full. **
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Poem: Life is happening.
Life is happening. Life is always happening|It doesn't accommodate our schedule |or ask for an appointment| It isn't scouting for the perfect environment| or adjusting for the most flattering angle
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Poem: The Weirdest Dream
I could see you so clearly, feel you, even, and smell all your scents – you know, the natural ones; the perfumed ones; your hands – so warm, so strong and comforting (all, your essence) – so missed.
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“I Am Enough” II Spoken Word
"He had 99 problems, but death wasn't one. And it wasn't any strangers, He sent His only Son."
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Poem: Without Reservation
My winter cleaning unearthed an old notebook. I opened it to this poem from over a decade ago. I don’t think I’ve ever shared it and I certainly understand it better today than I did then. Perhaps because it has played itself out over the years. I’ve been thinking – perhaps I had an epiphany – I thought of how I was willing, begged God actually, for the boon of being with you. To my mind, you were the greatest possible gift. Then it came to me this desire to give, give, give, to love you with all my heart and mind to worship and praise your body with mine…
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Terry Ann: Eulogy
Terry Ann: Eulogy As the moon shines, The angels come. On a warm, hazy night With stars twinkling bright; The waves crashed against shore With their ever beckoning lure. Terry Ann, my baby; My beautiful black lady. A mother, wife, daugther, sister, Cousin, aunt and friend. Because of you, my heart beats; I live and I breathe. My ambitions stem from your struggles; My understanding from your love. You are one of God’s special Children, touched on the heart. And as I look to the Lord There’s no anger for His part. He has a place worthy of your presence – Where heartache doesn’t reside. You’ll not be disappointed, be…
