Queens Speech [video]

It's Media Wednesday and today I'm posting a video from one of the Expressions: Poetry At The Pub open mics. This video is from last year and I'm still getting used to seeing myself in video. More reason to get better when it comes to performing. Enjoy.

Talk

I stumbled into him,
Losing my balance,
My world, upside down
For what was but
A moment but felt
Like an eternity.

In that moment,
That forever moment,
He caught her, sparing
Me bruises and cuts,
Cuts and bruises,
Setting me upright again.

I was embarassed,
I was shy,
I had two left feet
And two hands of thumbs,
Yet, through all of that,
He smiled.

Not a sympathetic smile,
One that was drenched
With pity for the
Poor, little creature
That stood before him.

It was a smile
That was sweet like
A just ripe plum
That had just lost
Its tartness.

It was a curious smile
That wanted to know more
About the creature
That stood before him.

Because of that smile,
I smiled.
Because of my smile,
He spoke.
Because he spoke,
We talked.

We talked that day
And the day after.
Ten years later,
We were still talking.
Twenty, thirty,
Forty years later,
We were still talking.

Then one day came when
We could no longer talk.
A silence descended around me
As I took my last breath.
And as the world melted away,
I heard him whisper.

"I love you, and
We will talk again."


Submitted to imaginary garden with real toads and dVerse Poets

Heat

Sunshine warming
Deeply hued skin,
A cool breeze
Licking the salty liquid
Off their brows.

He stood up tall
And released a sigh,
A "Thank you" to
A God, a deity,
A mother of nature
Who had sent this welcome
Respite from the heat.

He looked down
At her and
Spoke no words
Just conveyed his love.

He had found
Her beautiful and
She had found
Him brave and
In the time
They spent together
They found more.

They found more
Than the single
 Adjective they had
Assigned to one another.

Yes, she was beautiful,
But she was also smart,
Resilient, quick witted,
Diplomatic and nurturing.

Yes, he was brave,
But he was also savvy,
Witty, good-natured,
Persuasive and bold.

 In the quiet moments
Between the sun
And the moon,
A quiet love blossomed
Like an unassuming flower.

A flower that grew
From a green bud
To an extraordinary
Sight to behold,
Emitting a scent that
Coloured their world.

 She looked up at him,
At first a frown
Was upon her face,
But when their eyes met,
It melted like
Ice on a hot summer day.

She did away with her tools,
As he did away with his,
And in each others' arms
They sought a cool place
To create a heat
Of their own.

A heat only
A man and a woman
Could make.

I Love You - Spoken Word

As promised today is media Wednesday and today I will be showcasing a spoken word piece I did earlier this year. Hope you like To listen to more spoken word by moi, visit my SoundCloud page.

Pointing At Me

source

He hurt me,
She doesn't understand me,
They are at fault.

Every time,
Something went wrong
I found someone who
I could blame.

Every time,
I would find fault
In the person of
My fellow man.

Every time,
I failed to see
The part I had
To play.

Without fail,
I would raise
My arm and
Extend my finger
And blame.

Not knowing
That in that moment
Another finger was
Pointing at me.


My apologies for being MIA, no excuses but a promise to get back into my rhythm. Thanks for reading. :)

Sojourner Truth's Ain't I A Woman

source

Sojourner Truth (1797-1883): Ain't I A Woman?
Delivered 1851
Women's Convention, Akron, Ohio 

Well, children, where there is so much racket there must be something out of kilter. I think that 'twixt the negroes of the South and the women at the North, all talking about rights, the white men will be in a fix pretty soon. But what's all this here talking about? 

That man over there says that women need to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody ever helps me into carriages, or over mud-puddles, or gives me any best place! And ain't I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm! I have ploughed and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And ain't I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man - when I could get it - and bear the lash as well! And ain't I a woman? I have borne thirteen children, and seen most all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother's grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain't I a woman? 

Then they talk about this thing in the head; what's this they call it? [member of audience whispers, "intellect"] That's it, honey. What's that got to do with women's rights or negroes' rights? If my cup won't hold but a pint, and yours holds a quart, wouldn't you be mean not to let me have my little half measure full? 

Then that little man in black there, he says women can't have as much rights as men, 'cause Christ wasn't a woman! Where did your Christ come from? Where did your Christ come from? From God and a woman! Man had nothing to do with Him. 

If the first woman God ever made was strong enough to turn the world upside down all alone, these women together ought to be able to turn it back , and get it right side up again! And now they is asking to do it, the men better let them. 

Obliged to you for hearing me, and now old Sojourner ain't got nothing more to say. 

 Text found on the Internet Modern History Sourcebook.

Meeting Andy

"What's his name?"
I looked up
To find a little boy.

Skin as pale as
The snow heaps
I used to avoid
While looking for
A place to sleep.

I looked up
And around, anticipating
A young mother to
Swoop in and extract
The little boy from
The black street walker.

She never came,
Instead the little boy
Stood waiting for my
Answer as he patted
My mongrel of a dog.

"It doesn't have a name,"
I said at last.

"But what do you
Call him?" he asked.

"Her."

"You call him, 'her'?"
His eyes opened wide
At the ludicrosity of
Calling a boy dog, 'Her'.

"It's female, kid and
I call her 'Dog',"
The dog looked up at me.
"See, she responds to 'Dog'."

"My name is Andrew,
But everyone calls
Me Andy," the little boy said,
Continuing his conversation
With a complete stranger.

"Look, kid...."

"Andy."

"Look, Andy,
I don't need
To know your name.
In fact, where's your mommy?"

He looked down
At the dog, talking more
To her than to me,
"She's dead."

"What about your daddy?"
I was grabbing for anything.

He shook his head,
"He's dead, too."
He looked up and
I saw unshed tears
In the small boy's eyes.

The thick, ice shell
Around my heart broke
And melted away.
"My name is Angella,
But everyone calls
Me, Angie."

A smile spread
Across his face,
"It's nice meeting
You, Angie," he said.

"It's nice meeting
You, Andy."

It's Complicated

source

"It's complicated."

She sat in the middle

Of my living room,

In the middle of my

Life's debris, reading

A book.

"What's complicated?"

I asked, I always had

A problem called

Curiosity.

Looking up for a second,

Before returning to her book,

"Everything.

Everything is complicated,"

She said, matter-of-factly.

I felt the beginnings of

A deep conversation

And I wondered if

I was prepared to go

To a place she knew

Very well.

I was not prone to

Heavy thoughts, I 

Left philosophy to the

Likes of Socrates, Plato

And her, 

The woman 

Who would wear 

A top that skimmed

Her hips with nothing

But panties while 

Reading Nietzsche.

"Everything is complicated

Because we can't handle

Simple."

She decided to take 

The reins and lead me

Down the path.

"We can't imagine that

Life is simple so we 

Tell ourselves that it's

Complicated."

She caught my interest

So I sat down to listen.

"If given the choice

Between simple and 

Complex, we always

Choose complex.

We love a problem to

Solve."

"What is a problem

You are trying to solve,"

I asked.

She looked up

And leveled her

Gaze with mine,

"I'm trying to figure

Out how to stop

Loving you."

She was right,

She was always right.

It is complicated.

The Devil & My Sole

In the last quarter of 2012, Antigua Toastmasters was formed, and even though I had attended every meeting since the very first meeting, I joined in January 2013. I wouldn't say I was ecstatic about the Tall Tale Competition when it was first announced, I would say it was expected of me as I was a poet with a leaning towards story telling. But as the date came closer, I became excited.

The competition started out with eight participants that had wheedled down to five because three dropped out. And although I knew about it months in advance, it was only within the last month that this tale came into being. It started with just a little idea that grew and grew, but I never wrote it out. I repeated it in my mind over and over. When I noticed I forgot a sentence, I would work hard to remember it, the next time I recited it.

As for the southern accent and references to Louisiana, well, I have a strange connection to that part of the world. Maybe because I watched so much episodes of Designing Women, maybe I've read so much about that part of the world. The truth is I have never stepped foot in Louisiana, which adds to this tale being a tall tale.

The performance was a result of many practice sessions, some of which were when I was making my bed. I'm not angry about it, could I improve on it, yes, but I'm not mad at it. As a result of it, I won the Tall Tale Competition. The funny thing is a few of the audience thought I would fall out of character, but the truth is I've always been good with accents. Sometimes my everyday speech would be peppered with accents.

Special Thanks goes out to my sister for taping and uploading this YouTube clip.

OXOX
Kimolisa

See You Around

source

"What are you looking at?"

She looked up at me,

Distracted. Swimming

Upstream in her personal

River of her thoughts 

To the spot on the bank

Upon which I stood.

"Nothing, just lost

In thought," she gave 

Me a small smile.

"What are you thinking

About?" I had been here

For over an hour, trying

To engage her in some

Sort of conversation.

"Nothing of importance,"

She said after a long bout

Of silence. 

I wanted to scream,

I wanted to shout,

I wanted to take her

By her shoulders and

Shake her, instead 

I said "Oh."

She was looking out

Of the window again,

And I felt dismissed.

"Well, I have some 

Errands to run, so

I will see you around,"

I said making my way

To the door.

"See you around,"

She said without looking.

I never saw her around,

As time passed, it was something 

That didn't impact on me.

Somehow when I closed 

The door that last time,

I closed it for good.

Time passes and people

Grow apart and that's life.

Even the people you thought

Would be in your life forever

They, too, fade away.


Submitted to imaginary garden with real toads and dVerse Poets