She was beautiful from a distance
She was stunning up close
Her eyes told her story
Her words revealed her heart
She was like none other
She never unintentionally blended into a crowd
The colors she wore told her story outloud
Red made her feel powerful
It gave her life
It hid her pain
Red on her lips or that little red dress
Power and life were the crowns in that story
Blue was the color she wore to disappear
She blended into the sea of people
She faded into the backdrop of the sky
Blue meant she needed time to herself
Blue was reflection
Her color of undetection
Her wardrobe consisted of black as well
It wasn’t for the illusion of being thin
She wore it to be more corporate
She wore it to be received well
It was not her color for going out on the town
That was to common and if you know her, you know she’s not common
Beautiful combination that told her truth
She wore vibrant colors to express her mood
Green or coral, magenta or ecru
Browns made her feel earthy and real
One with nature and mankind
She felt like deep breathes and world peace
Green was her color to represent new and fresh
She channeled mother earth
Together they would give birth to ideas and philosophies
They would embrace the circle of life
Whatever the color she was talking to you
She was sharing her right now
Her inner thoughts and feelings
She was telling you her story by the colors she wore
Tag Archives: spoken word
I’m Better Than That
This is Random Chic.
She may not have been born by the river but she’s cried a river of tears.
She didn’t create laughter but she loves it like its her own.
She did not give birth to love but she unconditionally loves the four she gave birth to.
She is who she is today but not who she was yesterday.
(It’s not G like most of my postings. There is one word)
I hope you enjoy.
She wept
It was her right as a woman in control of her body
It was her future
It was her choice
It was her present
It was her wrong she just didn’t know it at the time
She wept
She would join a sorority with an unwritten roster
She would not have monetary dues
She would pay and collect in tears and heartache
She would know many years of regret
She wept
Who knew she would mourn
Who knew she would subconsciously count the years
Who knew of her ever present fears
Who knew it wasn’t a topic to ever discuss
Who knew the sisterhood would not offer support
She wept
She was not alone yet nobody was there as she wept
If it was so right then why wasn’t it talked about amongst girlfriends like shoes and hysterectomies
Why wasn’t there a t-shirt or a walk to raise money for awareness?
Why isn’t there a scholaship fund for the less fortunate
Why wasn’t there a support group for the nights she wept
Why didn’t somebody warn her of the shame
She wept
She wept for the life she would never know
She wept for lies she was told
She wept for the future of one she would never hold
She wept for she was full of regret
She wept because there was not a soul that could feel her pain
She wept because there were 56 million other women like her just with different names
She wept
She wept
She wept
Hear ye hear ye
it’s national poetry writing month. The goal is to write a poem a day. I’m not sure I can commit to that but I will write more than usual.
I suddenly become aware of the silence
Ssshhhhh
Listen
Now my mind is racing
My heart is pumping
What’s going on?
It’s too quiet
I walk cautiously through the house
Every step takes me closer to the unknown
As I peer around the corner, I see them
One is sitting on the counter
The other is sitting on the floor
They were finally successful
After many foiled attempts
They got into the cookie jar
— I will call this one, Toddlers—
National Poetry Writing Month
She called him Pookie
She went on dates with one or two
Yet others she only spoke to on the phone
She referred to them as sweetheart
Their names escaped her memory
She was only humoring them not really interested
Then she met him, if you want to call it that
They knew each from around the way
Sharing mutual friends and memories of days gone by
He was different
So, she called him Pookie
Saying the name made her smile
Talking to him made her laugh
He wasn’t just another name to forget
She knew his first, middle and last
She could have referred to him as one of those
But instead, she called him Pookie
It didn’t fit him at all but that didn’t matter
What do you call a strong man?
How do you refer to a man with a heart of gold?
Which word describes a man of integrity?
She couldn’t think of one single word that adequately described him
So, she called him Pookie
Sometimes I Cry
Sometimes I cry out of frustration
Other times I cry because my heart is hurting
Then there are the times I cry and laugh
Today I cried because it was time to say good-bye
I cry when life gets overwhelming
I often hear people say, “you are strong”
I’m only strong because I allow myself to cry
It’s the external manifestation of my current internal situation
The tears come when the numbers on the barometer that measures the atmospheric pressure of my soul gets to high
Numerically speaking, when you multiply responsibility by tension then add negative relations
You get frustration
When frustration is divided by demands
It equals life
And life, in terms of numbers, is prime
When you divide it by its self, you only get one
At times I cry because some days, during this 1 life that I live, are filled with sorrow
But I will take this life and not covet any other
Because this life allows me to cry
If water is cleansing and refreshing
Then my tears cleanse my soul and refresh my spirit
Just a while ago, I said farewell to somebody who was dear to me
Today, was a day that I cried
and it was good
In the beginning:
There were long conversations and lots of laughter
and it was good
Guarded shows of affection
and it was good
Compliments abounded
and it was good
Seeds of hope were planted
and it was good
Today was lived and tomorrow was planned
and it was good
Anticipation of time together mixed with sorrow of time a part
and it was good
The question was asked and I dos said
and it was good
Life changed as children were born
and it was good
Living life and facing trials together
and it was good
Working towards the common goals
and it was good
Reminiscing of times past
and it was good
Nearing the end with your friend
and realizing life was good
All That Chatter 