Mom? Imperfect? It’s ok.

The directions: We find faults in ourselves, in others, and in the world around us all the time. Today, write a poem about the imperfect nature of someone or something, whether you accept these imperfections or complain about them, try to fix them or celebrate them.

“Motherhood changes everything.”

-Adriana Trigiani

Somehow society tells women, the PERFECT pinnacle to your life is to become a mom
What they don’t tell you is how immensely IMPERFECT motherhood is
And that it’s ok to not be PERFECT
Point taken? Pause.

Did you know you won’t know everything?
That sometimes you will forget the little things?
Did you know being a mom isn’t the key happiness?
That there is no rite of passage or moments of pure bliss?
Did you know that postpartum depression is real?
That it can zap your joy and ability to mentally heal?
Did you know that everyday won’t be a good day?
That sometimes you even consider running away?
Did you know it will have you question your sanity?
That you will not take time for yourself to just be?
Did you know that motherhood is just as much about you as it is them?
That sometimes it’s ok to make a decision on a whim?
Did you know that it is emotionally, mentally and physically draining?
That there is no manual, it’s all on the job training?
Did you know that being mom, mother, mum, mommy, mama is hard?
That for a time your hopes and dreams you will have to discard?

Why can’t society just let a woman be?
What’s best for one, might not be best for me
We should be free to evolve and engage in discovery
Don’t tell me I should become a mom, but let me see
If motherhood is what I truly want as part of my destiny

So Mum, Mother, Mom, Mommy, Mama
It’s okay to be imperfect on any given day.

Women Write: in W’s

Women write

Wanting, wishing wondering why

We wander willingly, wearily within wonder

WOMAN, WORDSMITH, WORKHORSE, WORSHIPPER

Welcoming wisdom while waiting watchfully


Women write

Worriedly whispering “why”

Wackos, weirdos wickedness wins

WOMAN, WORKER, WARRIOR…WHAT WORKMANSHIP!

Writhing, wallowing, wantonly with warmth weakening


Women write

Weekly, weekdays whole weekends

While watching, working, wrestling

WOMAN, WATCHDOG, WOLF, WOMB-MAN…WRITER

Weaving words, Wrecking womanhood, Wowing Woke


This is a little something I was playing with today. Not sure if there is an official name for a poem written that have each word beginning with the same alphabet.

I will definitely develop this further

What are some pieces you can create using words that begin with the same alphabet? Share them. ☺️

I’m Not Giving Up, I’m Starting Over

I’m not giving up, I’m starting over…looking at life differently with fresh eyes

I’m not giving up, I’m starting over…seeking to smile each day, more than I frown

I’m not giving up, I’m starting over…being grateful for everything, finding joy in the little things

I’m not giving up, I’m starting over…being just as passionate and loving as I was before

I’m not giving up, I’m starting over…spending more time to nurture my spirit and care for my soul

I’m not giving up, I’m starting over…taking time to laugh, to read, to write, to be

I’m not giving up, I’m starting over…focusing on that which brings happiness and releasing those things which cause pain

I’m not giving up, I’m starting over…AGAIN

I am a Single Mother

The instructions said to write about a journey. “You could channel your excitement about a trip you’re about to embark on (or just returned from), comment on the mental progress you witnessed someone make, or focus on the struggles, pleasures, and extreme emotions that travel can bring about.

Single motherhood IS A JOURNEY.


I am a single mother

it’s a path I did not choose

in the beginning

there were so many days I cried the blues

How did this happen to me?

I would cry and lament

The divorce proceeded quickly

without my consent

You promised God to

love us unconditionally

How could you leave your family?

Im left here all alone

with two mouths to now feed

How on earth will I find the strength

to be all they will need?

My dreams involved my sons

having a mother and a father

Dreams are obsolete now

Why even bother?

Single

and

mother

Two labels I did not choose to wear

It’s the love for my two sons

that keep me hanging in there

Some days I feel so

defeated

Where is help when I need it?

There are days I don’t want to

get out of bed

But there’s this

still, small voice in my head

saying

“Tough times don’t last long;

and this too shall pass.”

I laugh and think

Where did I go wrong?

Many, many days

I weep and want to quit

Yet, something keeps me going

I hasten to admit

I love my children

don’t get me wrong

I am also worn the hell out

from having to everyday be strong

I am a single mother

I did not choose this path

Making this journey with my children alone

takes every ounce of strength I have

B. L. A. C. K. ❤️ W. O. M. A. N.

A message to evolution’s melanin magnificence…


Beautiful, bangin’, beaming BEAUTY


Living liberated, legendary like…


An Admirer, Adorer Aficionada


Curating cool, commanding consciousness… CREATIVE


Keeping keen, kind-hearted, kinetic


Womb-man wanting, wandering wondering why


Our off-spring obtain outrageous offenses on


Mitigating maneuvering managing manhood


All-along accomplishing, achieving, and abounding


Notice now…never needing narration…

BLACK WOMAN

Sometimes I Wish I Was a White Girl

Sometimes I wish I was a white girl

Because being a black girl ain’t fun

We are looked over and ignored

And can’t seem to please anyone


Sometimes I wish I was a white girl

Because being a black girl brings the blues

You get called a bitch

for having an opinion, being strong

And constantly reminded

“aint nobody tryna marry you.”


Sometimes I wish I was a white girl

Because being a black girl is hard

Navigating the waters of life

And being made to play every bad card


Sometimes I wish I was a white girl

Because they get their prince charming

They get the happily every after

And considered America’s darlings


Sometimes I wish I was a white girl

Because their beauty is considered classical

They are branded as the standard

While we get compared to animals


Sometimes I wish I was a white girl

Because their sons are void of worry

They get get to be wild and free

While our sons have to leave neighborhoods in a hurry (Lord knows they better not run or jog)


Sometimes I wish I was a white girl

Because they can go anywhere to get help

They can walk up to a random door

And not wonder if behind said door will be their last breath


Sometimes I wish I was a white girl

Wait! Hol’ up!

I’m not

I’m a BLACK GIRL

deep as the Nile…

giver of life…

MOTHER…

mysterious as the pyramids…

a force to be reckoned with…

DAUGHTER…

the secret weapon…

savage as Mount Kilimanjaro…

FRIEND…

breathtaking

scintillating Swagnificence..

SISTER…

vast as the continent of Africa…

magical…

So glad

I’m a BLACK GIRL

PERIOD.

Alliter-rostic

Friend is today’s topic from my Blogging Uni course. I can choose to write about a dear friend OR (huge smile forms here) address a group of people…

And, if I am feeling really saucy, they suggest giving acrostic a try: it’s a fun poetic form where the first letter of every verse combines to create a word or a message.

I was feeling a little ambitious and decided to see if I could create an acrostic coupled with the use of alliteration to address my chosen group of people.

What do you get when you combine alliteration and with an acrostic? Meet the Alliterrostic. (I wonder if that’s a real word? Wikipedia, Oxford, I think I got something for you!)

Anyhoo…Here’s my message to evolution’s melanin magnificence…


Beautiful, bangin’, beaming BEAUTY


Living liberated, legendary like…


An Admirer, Adorer Aficionada


Curating cool, commanding consciousness… CREATIVE


Keeping keen, kind-hearted, kinetic


Womb-man wanting, wandering wondering why


Our off-spring obtain outrageous offenses on


Mitigating maneuvering managing manhood


All-along accomplishing, achieving, and abounding


Notice now…never needing narration…

BLACK WOMAN

I, Too (The Sista’s Version)

Inspiration can come from out of no where sometimes. And I was minding my business when I stumbled upon a post from @hannahdrake628 of WriteSomeShit called Black Women for 2021 Mind The Business that Minds You.

In her post, she said “I believe that for 2021 it is time for Black Women to reclaim their time, worth, and energy.” She went on to say “it is time for Black Women to stop living a back burner existence.”

Her post was the kind that would have you responding like this as you read it…

But it also got me thinking about Langston Hughes’ poem I, Too. Here is my version of his historic verses. I call mine I, Too: The Sista’s Version:

I, too am America.


I am the darker sister

They give me an apron

To clean their kitchens, And care for their children

They want me to disappear

When company comes,

But I smile,

And make plans,

And dream dreams,



Tomorrow,

I’ll have a seat at the table

When company comes.

Nobody’ll dare

Say to me

“You don’t belong here,”

Then.



Besides,

They already know how BEAUTIFUL I AM 

But

They’ll see how BRILLIANT I AM

And be ashamed—-


I, too am America.

Thank you hannahdrake628 for your #everydayinspiration for the sistas!

Beauty?

Today’s Blogging University Intro to Poetry topic is FACE. Take a single face, write about it, to put it plainly.

Like to hear it…here it go! (In my best Calhoun Tubbs impression from In Living Color)

Beauty…

is in the eye

of the beholder

they say

Black. Beautiful. Bangin’. Beaming.

Beauty…

Is it blond hair

blue eyes

pale skin?

or

Is it black hair

chocolate eyes

carmel, bronze,

onyx skin?

Black. Beautiful. Beguiling. Bewitching.

Beauty…

is in the eye

of the beholder

they say

But WHO are they asking?

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