Poetry
My words.
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Thoughts from the Road: Created in Violence
We are created in violenceBirthed in painOur only constantsConflict and struggleWhat can we possibly Ever know of nonviolenceWhen even our peace is achievedWithin storms turbulentEnough to alterThe landscape of our lives
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POEM: I Am from…
I am LaShawnda, sister of Kim and Nicolette. We are daughters of Terry Ann, the daughter of Bessie Mae, The daughter of Lizzie, the daughter of Mae Emma, the daughter of Many Unknowns. I am from coconut oil and bergamot grease From pinto beans and bananas. I am from the light. From home-cooked meals and shadowy corners, From Thanksgiving feasts…
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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…
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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…
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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."
