Got Poems?! or Opening NIGHT?

I know I've been away for a bit and I didn't have a poem for you this week to post.  But I've got an Opening night and I will post a poem and another prompt this coming Sat. so look for it and I'll look for yours.  In the mean time, if you are in town and would like to check out one awesome play come to Gold From Straws production of DOUBT.  You'll get to see me in far more costume than one scene can handle. (lol) Blessings to you!


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AFRICAN DIASPORIC VOICES-WRITING PROMPT #1

African Diasporic Voices-Writing prompt #1

The Museum of The African Diaspora mentions the four major themes of the African Diaspora as:

origins-(Our origins are in Africa two million years ago. As we move, adapt and transform, new origins take root and the cycle continues.)

movement-(Individuals, families and communities move continuously, sometimes seeking fresh prospects, sometimes forced by slavery, war or famine. Always, our movements reinvent us, remixing the possibilities.),

adaptation-(People and cultures evolve as the traditions and memories we carry with us creatively engage new surroundings and other cultures.)

transformation-(We transform ourselves in dialogue with new places, creating new traditions and new cultures. We carry the seeds of creativity that can transform adversity into hope.)
(definitions courtesy of MOAD).

In the next four weeks we will look at the poems of writers who have used these themes, discuss how they have used them to shape the meaning in their poems, and attempt to write our own poems under these themes.

It only makes sense for us to start with the theme of origins.  For some of us that would mean the land, for others, parents, or even emotion.

The first poem I’d like to share with you can be found on the MOAD site and is by Trina Michelle Robinson, entitled AFRICA:She.  Take a moment and read her poem, listen to the recording as well.  And then, write your own. Be brave with this theme, be open, be accepting.

SHARE your poems on this site, please do so by presenting a link on the comment section of this writing prompt.  If you use another form of inspiration please feel free to share the links to those as well.

DON’T FORGET TO SHARE BY SUN MAY 9TH (MOTHER’S DAY).




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NAPOWRIMO #30: GOODBYE

I'M NOT SAYING GOODBYE! I JUST STARTED THIS FANTASTIC JOURNEY! But Readwritepoem is sadly saying goodbye. READWRITEPOEM and the poets I have met there have inspired many of the poems I have shared via my blog. I hope that you have liked them.  I've added this last poem as a goodbye to the poets of readwritepoem. I hope they will find their way to visit my blog from time to time.  I do say goodbye the the NAPOWRIMO challenge for another year. I didn't make every day's challenge but I did improve from last year.   Blessings all! Now Yah'll come back now! Yah hear?

Goodbye

by Ieisha McIntyre

There are no instructions for farewell.
No compass, nor telescope, no map
nor previous navigation.

The eyes are never strong enough to
watch forever the departure of a loved one.
The ears are never strong enough
to hear the goodbyes.

Without tears rolling
down the face,
Without the ache
welling up in the muscles of the arms,
without the mind’s hurried remembrance
the last phrases of love,
the lasting regret,
the loss of the moment
when,
perhaps everything could have been different,
We are left speechless.
adrift on the uncharted, unexpected.

Who expects to say goodbye,
When blissful moments have been shared,
and promises have been made?
We expect maps out when there is strife,
when there is disturbance,
but with good times, we want frolic and play.

Alas, today we are without our
unicorn dreams of lasting paradise.
Today we attempt in folly
to chart goodbye.

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MAY 1ST- WELCOMES AFRICAN DIASPORIC VOICES

ON MAY 1ST- I will begin to post writing prompts and invite comments and conversation regarding the African Diaspora and the poetry, literature, art, etc. of that specific world population of people.  This group has moved from its original READWRITEPOEM site due to the site ending as an active community and becoming an archive.  I'd like to extend an huge thanks to RWP for creating such an active and equal community.  I was a safe place to be an artist.  Let us continue to create and seek those safe places to do and share art.

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NAPOWRIMO #25-LEFT HAND SIDE

Left hand side was inspired by the writing prompt of Joseph Harker on READWRITEPOEM NAPOWRIMO #25


Left hand side
by  Ieisha McIntyre



On the left hand side of consciousness
lies the understanding of a child.
the understanding that love is
 the only currency one has,
the understanding that without love
there is only the beg, barter, and steal
birthed from the drive of survival.

The swindle, the duck and dive,
the top dog, the underdog
and always the loser
ever present.

Hope goes unfed.

But, on the left hand side,
is the Knowledge.
The law love gives,
the only law that maintains the peace.

Beyond war and bombs,
beyond the trials and executions,
beyond human sacrifice ceremony of daily life,
love stops us all and bids us

Pay attention.

to the silence brought to chaos by,
the simple touch inspired love,
the gentle voice inspired love,
the grace given through love,

the mercy.

Ah, the left hand side,
for years derided and seen as a
hinderance of the cold hard
 truth of life,
the ravage of life.
The weak will perish

fact of life.

The ten percent who simply must be
converted
in order to
comfort
the discomforted of the masses.
If only the left could be made right.

                                  if not right,

then their difference must be
distorted
and made suspect.
Their influence must be controlled.

Contained to the left’s small circle--further
within the circle, let their difference be
as a thing that brands
marginal-compassion.

So Marginal that mothers ignore
the cries of their children,
force feed them
from the rationed teat--Government milk.

Believe the milk of their bodies to be
the poison diversity serves,
mothers bind their breasts,
make rigid the sway of their hips.

Keep secret the culture of compassion.
Serve their children fresh cannibal
adroitly
singing sweet lullabies of saviors,
eyes overflowing with confusion and tears.
a child
without love’s truth
can only survive.

Trapped in a circle of constant right turns,
they survive only.

Without a left,
difference becomes an
apparition abhorrent,
the destruction of self
a necessity.

On the left hand side,
we see the unmapped,
and are called to our heroic-
Honor the knowledge
of a child.

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Hello Readers and Bloggers

Hello to my fellow bloggers and readers out there. I hope you have enjoyed reading my blog posts and poems.  As you can see I replaced my map with a revolver map. I love it!  Actually, I am, I believe in love with it.  It shows me that so many people from around the globe have visited my blog.  I would like to invite those of you who are willing to comment on what you like and any questions you may have about my work.

In June, I plan to include writing prompts that center around the topic of the African Diasporia, history, feminism, and quite possibly many other themes.  I hope that you will join me on this writing journey.

Blessings, and I promise I will get back on my NAPOWRIMO postings before the day is out.

KEEP ON RISING TO JUSTICE ! KEEP RISING!


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NAPOWRIMO #17/30- UNSAID THINGS 2

Unsaid things 2

 by Ieisha McIntyre

One can always recognize hate.
Look closely.
The face of hate is that same ghoul that haunted
your childhood dreams and chased hope from your
heart.

Love is the thing that shifts, changes
transforms and requires that ones eyes adjust,
retrain, refocus. So stunned
we are transfixed
left in doubt, our myopia, makes love peculiar
and enemy in our sight.
too terrorized to shift off our center and turn to the muddle
of love
and
away from the method of hate--
We sit in the darkness of our minds
eyes scaled and souls weighted.

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NAPOWRIMO #16/30-UNSAID

Unsaid things

by Ieisha McIntyre

Step into your blessing,
know that it will free you and alienate you.
Know that you have no choice
 and every opportunity
not to receive.
Know that it is a gift.

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NAPOWRIMO #15-HOPE

Hope

by Ieisha McIntyre

The face of hope-
more beauty than can be believed.
At the sight, one bursts into tears
believing themselves split to the barest particle of themselves.
struct dumb-while weeping
profound silence split by sudden joy.
sudden as laser light bursting through the darkness-sudden.
Sheer grace and supple.

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NAPOWRIMO #13/30 - MICRO

13/30

by Ieisha McIntyre

The world 

is

 so much simpler

 than 

water and soil.

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NAPOWRIMO #12/30-MICRO!

I've decided to experiment in the interest of catching up and writing in a more micro way but, I also want to see what happens if I write one independent line at a time.  So, here are the first of these.  If you follow me on twitter, you may have seen these already.  If not the lines that follow will be new.  Enjoy!

#12/30

by Ieisha McIntyre

Because,

 I saw God

 at the bottom 

of a teacup.

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NAPOWRIMO #11-ALABASTER WOMEN

Alabaster Women

by Ieisha McIntyre

Alabaster women bathe at sunset in
the river of light and shadow.
take time to rub moonstone over their
skin after mud soap has brushed
clean stable all the sunlight soot
of their day flesh.

Lights them moon colored
and pearl eyed,
they swim translucent fish through
water - hair seaweed fresh languid.
While guppies play follicle tag among
millions, cheveaux-like seaweed absent
of seahorses-starfish their fingers
to their thighs and slide through water
oil gentle.

Never thinking of loss, never thinking tender fingers
holding waistline tight against untold horror,
but buck gentle ‘gainst subtide current, sailing shifty-smooth
toward destination infinite, forever calling their truest self
permanent and ever altered.

Alabaster women lie dormant on black sand beaches
roll their bodies covered entire in black tar
volcanic soot sand cover dormant
midnight journeys forward to the past of never
carry all the hope not yet hoped for.

pregnant silent lay in wait
for the sun to bake solid blackness.
Prepare for the scorch of the sun,
the walk of the day.
Dry and prepare sea legs
for land toil walk among strangers.

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NAPOWRIMO #10-HOPSCOTCH

HOPSCOTCH

by Ieisha McIntyre

Trickle drop, trickle drop,
little bee trickle drop riggle
 dance bring all the honey back
 and make the honeycomb fat.

Peony and pansy, honey suckle rose
all the flowers bow and greet the rain
 trickle drop trickle drop
such a loverly dance and sing.

Fat bees of yellow and black strip legs
heavy and pollen feet
full exhausted happy meet again
 peony and pansy, honey suckle rose.

all the work and all the time
 fat bees of yellow and black strip
make yummy sweet and golden nectar.
trickle, drop, trickle, drop.

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NAPOWRIMO #9-ANSWER

Answer

by Ieisha McIntyre

After all the years of question,

You are my answer. 

To every sleepless addiction bitten night, 

you are my answer.  

You are every prayer’s answer 

for all the days spent off balance and searching.

You are my answer.

My home base and safe place, 

my shelter from the rain. 

When my words have left me

 as easily as my breath,

 when my heart has not the strength 

to push blood through my body, 

your face is the last that my mind will see.

 the smell of your neck,

 the last scent my body yearns for.  

You are my morning sunshine, kiss of heaven.

 You are my answer.

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NAPOWRIMO #8- micropoem

A simple question

by Ieisha McIntyre

Did you ever wonder 

at the curve of the sky? 

The lilt in your lovers voice?

The moment of your death?

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Chapbook?

Would you like to see a chapbook from me?  If yes, comment and let me know which of my topics you'd like to hear more of!  Blessings!!!



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NaPoWriMo #7/30 - Friday Morning Rain

Friday Morning Rain

by Ieisha McIntyre

Rain falls gently to pavement.
Pad-taps out the rhythm of the day,
slips soft-silent through the cracks in the soil
and rises puddle.
Waits glass patient for my shoe.


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NaPoWriMo #6/30 - The Miracle of Sleep

The Miracle of Sleep

by Ieisha McIntyre

Falling away into darkness
--my eyes are closed
as windows with drawn curtains.

My mind--set free and active,
goes to play upon the landscape of forever.

Finding bits of reality--
here and there strewn over
every geographical point of the unseen.

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NaPoWriMo #5/30-Mr.

Mr. 

by Ieisha McIntyre

I wish I could tell you how many times
I looked at you and your forever before
I decided that it could
not be my ever after.

But, there were too many times to count,
and too many days have gone by to remember exactly
what it was that made tomorrow with
you put a bad taste in my today.

I wish I could tell you, but I can’t.

And, you’re over it.

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NaPoWriMo #4/30-Soul Tending

Soul Tending 

by Ieisha McIntyre

There are Gardens inside each soul--
where the spirit speaks to the creator.
Gardens lined with lush trees,
trees with branches that hang sleepy and watchful over fresh grown lilies.

There are gardens in our souls,
that carry the full scent and memory of love.
Love that has taken up care and pulled out tender weeds,
deep rooted weeds, pulled effortless with even the gentlest of breezes--love.

Plush moss of verdant green couch the ground
--make soft the harshest of places.
In our souls, there are sweet soft places, yearning for care, and tending. Safe sheltering places, where fruit rests heavy and fresh in the palm.

Fruit pulp-full and juicy sustenance. Peel back the rind and sink in your teeth.
Taste the sweetness of tended places.
Let the juice slide onto your tongue and creep toward the throat of you--nourish.
Let it squeeze free of your lips. Slide down your chin--feed.

Feed on this fertile love, make yourself ready to reap harvest.
Make yourself ready to offer free entry to those
in need of the peace--
the garden.

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