Save the Date! January 8. 2014

Save the Date: January 8, 2015...I will be the featured poet at Barrio Poetix
La Marqueta East 118 & Park Avenue, New York, NY 8 PM - 10PM
Free Open Mic! No cover
Indoors, Puerto Rican food will be available for sale by El Caldero de Nellie!
Don't be afraid of the cold...come out to play!
Sponsored by Melissa Mark-Viverito, Speaker NYC Council and Acacia Network..

Shalom

fugue and variation

haystacks shrouded within impressionist fog

move to this

spiccato cello against the violinist’s bow

breathe here

in harmony with nature’s dance

freedom of vision on the downbeat

creating beautiful chaos

floating above an invisible melody

like colors of the spectrum

melting with increasing intensity

~Shalom

* Inspired by Dance Theatre of Harlem students improvising to jazz-Israeli music...amazing!

I Want My Poetry to...

I want my poetry to take you on an unexpected journey

on a weightless flight

where there is no room for slow moving souls

who have no destination

so follow me.

I want my poetry to be your traveling companion

where the only music playing

is the sound of urban air rising from beneath your feet

as you listen

so dance with me.

And when this voyage is over

I want my poetry to leave you

wanting to write your own story

before the dust settles on this path

for others to follow

after you have walked with me.

Today , , ,

Today . . .

I will remember you

I will open my journal

I will write about you

I will get distracted

I will write about something else

I will get bored

I will go back to writing about you

I will cry

I will get angry

I will rip the pages from my book and throw them away

I will call you

I will let the phone ring

I will say nothing when you answer

I will hang up

I will take a walk in the rain

I will think of you

I will go back to my journal

I will write about you

I will save it this time

Healer

It hasn't stopped yet

this bleeding from my weakened soul

with no feminine products in sight

no one offers a bath

they would rather watch  me drown

as I drag myself to touch the hem of His garment

I am invisible to the rest of the world

who turns a blind eye to me

reaching out to the shadow of the Almighty

who knows my name

and never forgets every detail of my life

even though the dust has covered the road

that I have walked many times over

trying to find relief

and He says:

“Go and be made whole”.

Spoken Funk!

In May, I was the spotlight artist at Spoken Funk in North Hollywood!

cinquain #2

I know

if I could fly

truly I would escape

to places where no one has dared

to dream…

© 2011 PoetryofMotion!

Heart of a Woman (For Maya Angelou)

On Friday
for only $1
she called to me through her book
sitting on the shelf  alive waiting to be heard
what a price for such wisdom
On Monday
I heard her message
through the pages of her story
amazed and intrigued
leaving the book resting on a red pillow
not knowing that on Wednesday
she would be gone
and although we never met
I’m glad she spoke to me all the way to page 106
and I listened

bring back our girls

bring back our girls

lives that cannot be thrown away

tossed out like garbage

like unripe fruit

picked before its time

flowers that never had a chance to bloom

bring them back

so they can flourish

they need the chance to breathe

and not inhale the foulness of old men’s breath

or feel unclean hands

and hear words not meant for their ears

bring our girls back

they are not just our future

but our present

their presence matters

to somebody

even if not to you

find them

like precious jewels in Nigerian caves of

aquamarine

emerald

amethyst

garnet

tourmaline

topaz  

zircon

and sapphire

search for them

they are wondering

they are waiting

hoping

praying

crying

wailing

for someone to come to their rescue

please

Mornings

On dark mornings

I layer my delicate frame in silk and linen garments

that shield me from the eyes of ravenous wolves

in sheep’s clothing

whose predatory instincts trail the scent of fresh femininity

causing them to commit crimes against womanhood.

With no man to protect me from their heinous ways 

As I walk through empty alleys and streets where they lie in wait for me

I hide in the shadow of the Almighty

becoming invisible

only the light that surrounds me is seen

and I go on my way without fear

knowing that I am safe.

                   

 

I Could

I could bloom here

in this concrete soil

with its steel skyline

and endless waves of people walking the pavement

going underground to get from point A to B to C

sometimes stepping on one another

without saying excuse me

making no eye contact

but connected at the root

I could get used to climbing several flights of old stairs

crossing the street to do laundry

alongside big butt menopausal women with graying locs

people cursing each other

in front of China King

and Ma’s old stoop

watching the cat who sleeps curled up in the barber shop window

in the afternoon sun

I could bloom here

in the cold

like a winter rose without thorns

trusting the universe to protect me

from danger

in this concrete soil

rising

poet

sometimes i go through the motions

numb to the painful devastation

that has become my life

it’s easier to get through the day

without thinking

or feeling

they call it an emotional block

but i call it survival…

in this jungle

where I could easily become the prey

of a predator

i become invisible

speaking only when spoken to

answering when necessary

writing whenever possible

breathing through my ink

watching the world from behind paper

where no one can see me

or run from my pain

they only snap

and ask for more

i give it to them freely

because they don’t understand

that my words

are healing me

so i can live

and move on.