Category Archives: Poetry

Sunday Stew: Mourning | Mornings

By TyCeleste

Filled with struggles, to get out of bed.
Filled with reasons, my heart bled.
Filled with pressure, for survival of the day.
Worries of where, my head will lay, approaching the sunset of today.
Filled with yesterday’s lack of success, according to life’s test.
Filled with the negativity, I fought so hard, to rid of by falling asleep.
Filled with the pressure, … I’m sinking in deep.
Filled with “I can’t” and “I won’t” to “I don’t even know”.
Filled with mother’s and aunt’s get up crow.
Filled with who, what,when, where, why and how?
How, did I find myself, in the morning.
How do I walk, talk, and smile, when all the while, …mornings.
Mornings pass, and days they do too.
Nights are not the only trouble it’s true.
While some are resting, safe and sound
Others attempt to rest while holding a frown.
Grateful for the life we have left,
Life is truly the beginning, not a pass or fail test.
It’s a journey to be seen.
To be heard.
To grow.
For the whole world to know.
I can, make a difference in myself.
I can, make a difference in my family.
I can, make a difference in my community.
I can, make a difference in my nation.
I can, make a difference in the world.
I can, make a difference through hope, education, and action.
The Freedom School Story. Yet to know?
We believe in each other… encourage each other to grow.
Our history pushes us through,
Holding on to what we know,  to make our dreams come true.
Motivate instead of discriminate, we glow.
Recognizing each other, as we chant each other on.
Cheers for one another turn into song.
Announcing: No Child Will Be Left Behind.
We coerce,
Coerce the world to,
SEE | ME, My Life Matters.
No child poverty, no child delinquency.
We have already won.
This story continues,
Each day harambee begins.
Who’s is the writer or is it already written?

Sunday Stew: Food For Thought (for David)

by Lola E Peters

Masquerades and peek-a-boo are young girls’ games;                         Teasing without consequence or expectation.                                                     I am a grown woman                                                                                                  With no time for boys                                                                                                Who dangle themselves in front of me                                                            Like rabbits before a leopard                                                                                Then run off for their mommies                                                                           The moment I pounce.

A woman’s gotta eat.