#028 Nikki Giovanni, 1997

Kidnap Poem

ever been kidnapped

by a poet

if i were a poet

i'd kidnap you

put you in my phrases and meter

you to jones beach

or maybe coney island

or maybe just to my house

lyric you in lilacs

dash you in the rain

blend into the beach

to complement my see

play the lyre for you

ode you with my love song

anything to win you

wrap you in the red Black green

show you off to mama

yeah if i were a poet i'd kid 

nap you

written by Nikki Giovanni, Love Poems, 1997

#027 Nikki Giovanni, 1997

I Wrote a Good Omelet

I wrote a good omelet...and ate a hot poem...

after loving you

Buttoned my car...and drove my coat home...in the

rain...

after loving you

I goed on red...and stopped on green...floating

somewhere in between...

being here and being there...

after loving you

I rolled my bed...turned down my hair...slightly

confused but...I don't care...

Laid out my teeth...and gargled my gown...then I stood

...and laid me down...

to sleep...

after loving you

written by Nikki Giovanni, Love Poems, 1997

#026 Nikki Giovanni, 1997

When is the last time you took a day to admire how beautiful, how exciting, and how inspiring it feels to love? Not just romantically, but unconditionally. Let's practice the art of being in love with just being. Love the little moments just as big as the grand ones. Love because you can!

Starting my day with some juicy Love Poems from the notorious Nikki Giovanni.

That Day

if you've got the key

then i've got the door

let's do what we did

when we did it before

if you've got the time

i've got the way

let's do what we did

when we did it all day

you get the glass

i've got the wine

we'll do what we did

when we did it overtime

if you've got the dough

then i've got the heat

we can use my oven

til it's warm and sweet

i know i'm bold

coming on like this

but the good things in life

are too good to be missed

now time is money

and money is sweet

if you're busy baby

we can do it on our feet

we can do it on the floor

we can do it on the stair

we can do it on the couch

we can do it in the air

we can do it in the grass

and in case we get an itch

i can scratch it with my left hand

cause i'm really quite a witch

if we do it once a month

we can do it in time

if we do it once a week

we can do it in rhyme

if we do it every day

we can do it everyway

we can do it like we did it

when we did it

that day

written by Nikki Giovanni, Love Poems, 1997

Oop! Let me go...#WRITESIS LOL

#025 Nekhena Evans, 2000

This poem made me cry when I first read it. 

Nekhena Evans is an author, poet, producer, speaker, and founder of NewBein' Hair Care Product line.

www.newbein.com

Discover her written work on natural hair care via Amazon today!: Nekhena Evans Literature

AND I CALL MYSELF A WOMBMAN

How can I become a "Wombman"

when I don't know my womb?

I have never had a conversation with my womb

so how can I consider myself a Wombman?

I have been with you...grown with you,

been through Rites of Passage with you

from childhood, to adolescence, to adulthood, and yet...

I have never had a conversation with you.

You have been a victim. A consequence to an action. 

A symptom of a disease. 

An effect of my action.

I have never spoken to you. Consulted with you. 

Inquired of you. Cared for you.

Or understood you.

And I call myself a grown Wombman.

Where have I grown? How could I have grown without talking with you?

Without acknowledging your presence and your works?

And I call myself a Wombman.

I have put you through dozens of men...

alien spirits/beings/entities...of all dimensions,

from all places and stations.

I have created and destroyed babies through you.

I have fed you all kinds of poisons, thereby creating diseases---

fibroids, tumors, cysts, and the like.

I have sexually abused you, thereby creating sexually transmitted diseases...

infections of all types, itching...burning...hurting...PAIN!

I have used you for my own purposes...

money, favors, alleged self-esteem, beauty, clothing, food.

I have allowed men to probe you, 

doctors to drug you, while I held you down.

If I had known someone who had done all these things

I would call them the names I despise the most-

MURDERER, THIEF, LIAR, BETRAYER, DEMON.

Yes I would...

And I call myself a Wombman,

Time to release. RELEASE, RELEASE.

FORGIVE ME. FORGIVE ME. FORGIVE ME.

I am complete.

I will be responsible for you, for myself...for my womb. 

We are in relationship together.

We have been from the very, very beginning.

I will commune and communicate with you. 

I will listen to you.

I will wash, cleanse, and purify you. 

I will pay attention to your patterns, your moods, your signs and wonders.

I will...I will...I will...become the Wombman that you made

me from the beginning.  

written in Queen Afua's Sacred Woman: A Guide to Healing the Feminine Body, Mind, and Spirit, 2000.

#024 NYA AKOMA via Autumn LaBella

💟💟💟 

I'm wishing each of you a warm transition into this frosty new month!

I'm reminded of a Kwanzaa celebration I attended some time ago in SE, Washington D.C with a good friend of mine. I attended an African Methodist Episcopal church growing up, so I had been exposed to some Pan-African customs early and to some extent was observing the holiday, but I had never actually attended a community based Kwanzaa experience as an adult. 

We were saturated with high vibrations as soon as we walked into the community center where the event was being held. All types of freshly garnished ital eats and fruit juices lined the back of the joint. Neatly cut and colored fabrics and tapestries, beauty bars, and butters sold by sisters, crystals and copper work advertised by incense carrying brothers adorned the east and west corners of the room. Rows of chairs in the mouth of the room were swallowed by a sea of melanated men, women, and children beaming with light and excitement. A sweet musk filled the air, mostly from the beautiful troupe of brothers who were striking djembes, congas, bongas, and cajons in a hypnotic, syncopated rhythm. The drummers were encouraging guests to chant or dance on stage with dancers that were letting Spirit lead releasing movements (yes yours truly ended up on stage getting LOOSE). It was a gift to feel welcomed by every guest in the room. 

My eyes grew wide with anticipation as I watched the drummers shout African affirmations while striking their drums even more powerfully. I skimmed the stage and focused on a lone woman, a slender chocolate skinned sister with revolution in her eyes, chanting and dancing freely with a cowrie shell covered shaker. Her confidence, her rhythm, and might I add, her agility for a woman in upper years, was breathtaking.

I laughed to myself, "That will be me in my golden years."

Needless to say by the end of the night, I worked up the courage to introduce myself to this intriguing woman draped in different shades of lavender. I felt like a moth being drawn to an elegant ember. When I humbly approached her, she finished her previous banter with another guest, looked me in my eyes, and with a wide smile led with:

"My you are a beautiful young sister."

I'm sure I blushed, but it didn't matter because she immediately embraced me and whispered, "Welcome."

After thanking her, I found that this lady in lavender was none other than Mama Ayo Handy Kendi: author, poet, lecturer, entrepreneur, Founder/Director of the African American Holiday Association, Founder of Black Love Day (which is celebrated on February 13th), cultural presenter, community organizer, and Certified Transformational Breath Facilitator. Since 1989, Mama Ayo has been a champion for human rights, justice, and wholistic health. 

We briefly discussed the importance of her established holiday, and she lovingly quizzed me on my perspectives in regards to my love relationship with my Creator, my self, and my community, which she deemed as some of the five 'tenants' of love (see "The Black Love Book: An Anthology on Love and Guide to the "wholyday" Feb 13th --Black Love Day", pg. 24). 

According to Mama Ayo, she founded Black Love Day as a way to help our community understand that "we must love ourselves enough as a people to want to reclaim our legacy, to study our history and culture...we need not to be ashamed of anything, only proud of how far we've come and proud of our many contributions!"  

Mama Ayo explains in her anthology on Black Love Day what NYA AKOMA means:    

We know of the heart as a symbol for Valentine's Day. Yet, long before Europeans used decorative, lace hearts to symbolize romance, this ancient, African Adinkra symbol was called the Akoma (pronounced Ah-co-mah). The Akoma literally means "the heart" and symbolizes love, patience, goodwill, faithfulness, and endurance, with its origin traced to the Asante people of Ghana and the Gyaman people of the Cote' d'Ivoire. The literal translation for NYA AKOMA is "Be patient, get a heart". The ritual and symbols of Black Love Day are a "synthesis of spiritual, metaphysical, African and African American customs which aid in heightening Black cultural pride and self-esteem. Gifts can be given if one desires to express their love, however, gifts must be purchased only from Black merchants, in the spirit of Ujamaa to recycle money within the Black community. It is recommended that gifts be made or chosen to enhance the spirit, mind and body, or chosen to reflect the love of African Diaspora culture and heritage, instead of impractical trinkets and unhealthy, sugar-laden gifts traditionally given for Valentine's Day."

If you can remember on February 13th, take 24 hours to be more mindful of how you are loving on those around you. Take time to rejuvenate your relationships and nourish the parts of life that mean the most to you in the spirit of Akoma. 

Interested in discussing or learning more about Black Love Day traditions? 

EMAIL AUTUMN LABELLA 

Special thanks to Mama Ayo Kendi of the African American Holiday Association (AAHA) 

#023 Amanda Gorman, 2020

This manifesto was a commissioned piece written for Nike in celebration of Afro-American athletes & 'Black History Month'. Los Angeles native and Inaugural Youth Poet Laureate Amanda Gorman draws inspiration from researching the role that Afro-American athletes during the mid-late 1930s played in strengthening the cause for civil rights, specifically those that boldly defied racism and Nazi alliance in the 1936 Berlin Olympics.

Check out previous entries for grounding poetry that inspires you, and feel free to share any beautiful thoughts or discussion points in the comment section below!

#WRITESIS #AMANDAGORMAN

--------------------------------

UNTIL WE ALL WIN

We come together with our
Dreams, daring and devotion.
As athletes leaping in motion
And artists launching a moment,
We are advocates leading
This black history movement.

We are the new generation,

Watch us rise. We recognize

Legacy as opportunity,

Leadership as our duty.

We climb as a community,

Celebrating our history and creating

The future in our own reflection.

Each of us is a thread,

A connection, 

Heading together in a single direction.

We step forward. We go all in.

We know becoming the best

Means raising up all the rest,

Because victory doesn't begin

Until We All Win.

written by Amanda Gorman, 2020.

#022 Amanda Gorman, 2021

I am still overflowing with joy and thanks as I recall the experience of watching Amanda Gorman address the world with her poetry. This outstanding wordsmith, change-maker, and cum laude graduate of Harvard University, made history as the youngest inaugural poet in U.S. history! 

My soul brought tears to my eyes as the Los Angeles native recited her work with so much poise, passion, and purpose. I pray she continues to ignite the world with her powerful cadence. Amanda's graceful execution was perfectly aligned with WRITE SIS's vision to make the poetry of Afro-American women more visible and accessible in a matrix that prefers that our love, and our literature did not exist. Amanda's queendom was undeniable as she let truth echo through the air. 

WRITE SIS is a growing literary community that curates a safe space for Afro-American women's poetry to be uplifted as critically acclaimed work. We ARE enough. We ARE intelligent. We ARE here. We ARE breaking barriers that are designed to keep us from thriving and we will continue to do so one stanza at a time. Thank you Amanda, for inspiring me and countless others who use poetry to revive, release, replenish, and reconcile. It's our responsibility to uplift each other, and you are worth listening to!

Amanda's debut poetry collection on hope and healing, "The Hill We Climb Poems"  is available on her website : www.theamandagorman.com 

*the featured poem is a RECOMMENDED READ TO THE END TYPE OF SITUATION*

-------------------------

The Hill We Climb

Mr. President, Dr. Biden,

Madam Vice President, Mr. Emhoff, Americans and the world:

 

When day comes we ask ourselves, 

where can we find light in this

never-ending shade?

The loss 

we carry

a sea we must wade.

We've braved the belly of the beast

We've learned that quiet, isn't always peace

And the norms and notions of what just is

isn't always justice

And yet, the dawn in hours before we knew it

somehow we do it

somehow we've weathered and witnessed

a nation that isn't broken

but simply unfinished.

We the successors of a country and a time

where a skinny Black girl

descended from slaves and raised by a single mother,

can dream of becoming President,

only to find herself reciting for one.

And yes, we are far from polished

far from pristine

but that doesn't mean we are

striving to form a union that is 

perfect-- 

We are striving to forge or union with purpose,

to compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, 

characters and conditions of man--

and so we lift our gazes not to what stands between us

but what stands before us.

We close the divide because we know to put our future

first, 

we must put our differences aside

we lay down our arms

so we can reach out our arms

to one another

we seek harm to none and harmony for all

Let the globe, 

if nothing else, 

say this is true:

that even as we grieved, we grew

that even as we hurt, we hoped

that even as we tired we tried, 

that we'll forever be tied together, 

victorious,

not because we will never again know defeat, 

but because we will never again sow division.

Scripture tells us to envision

that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree

and no one shall make them afraid

if we're to live up to our own time

then victory wont lie in the blade

but in all the bridges we've made

that is the promised glade

the 'hill we climb'

if only we dare it

because being American is more than a pride we inherit,

it's the past we step into

and how we repair it.

We've seen a force that would shatter our nation

rather than share it

would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy.

And this effort very nearly succeeded,

but while democracy can be periodically delayed

it can never be permanently defeated.

In this truth,

in this faith we trust

for while we have our eyes on the future

history has its eyes on us

this is the era of just redemption

we feared at its inception

we did not feel prepared to be the heirs

of such a terrifying hour

but within it we found the power

to author a new chapter

to offer hope and laughter to ourselves

so while once we asked

how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe?

now we assert

how could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?

We will not march back to what was

but move to what shall be

a country that is bruised but whole, 

benevolent but bold,

fierce and free.

We will not be turned around

or interrupted by intimidation

because we know our inaction and inertia

will be the inheritance of the next generation

our blunders become their burdens

But one thing is certain:

if we merge mercy with might,

and might with right,

then love becomes our legacy

and change our children's birthright

so let us leave behind a country

better than the one we were left with

every breath from my bronze-pounded chest,

we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one

we will rise from the gold-limbed hills of the west,

we will rise from the windswept northeast

where our forefathers first realized revolution

we will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the midwestern states,

we will rise from the sun-baked south

we will rebuild, reconcile, and recover

and every known nook of our nation and

every corner called our country,

our people diverse and beautiful will emerge,

battered and beautiful

when day comes we step out of the shade

aflame and unafraid

the new dawn blooms as we free it

for there is always light

if only we're brave enough to see it--

if only we're brave enough to be it.

written and spoken by Amanda Gorman, 2021

National Youth Poet Laureate