I'm still writing poems about him. I don't think that will ever end. Elegy. 16. Perhaps I always knew I would end up near you, my dear, departed one, near the streets you once walked upon, near the air you once had the privilege to breathe. Somehow that dreaded constant summer began to call …
it is advisable that we not remain friends.
I wrote this in 2012. Stuff was happening back then. These days, my quiet life is unencumbered by angry poems about silly boys. (Primarily because I'm married to Idris.) Happy Friday. it is advisable that we not remain friends. i will sabotage your efforts. you will bring this new girl to me, forgetting that our failed …
Continue reading "it is advisable that we not remain friends."
I Didn’t Forget.
In July 2005, my family lost my beloved father in death. Naturally, all things suffered because of this loss, which meant my overall desire to do anything. One of those things was writing. Significant because writing has always been my tool for dealing with personal pain; my longstanding avenue for catharsis. But I didn't want to pick …
would you like a magazine?
When I was a teenager, the answer to that question would have been yes, yes, a thousand times, yes. Back then, I was a connoisseur of all things glossy reading materials: the goal was to spend every bit of my pocket money (the African parent's version of allowance) on any magazine I could feast my eyes …
Before and After.
Happy to let y'all know that I contributed a piece for my good friend AB's new blog. I also hold the privilege of being the very first contributor for her new baby, which is awesome when you consider how much I love supporting my friends, especially when it comes to writing/blogging. Check it out here, …
[Pardon the Interruption]…
...But I'd like to deviate from the daily Parisian round-up and share my new poem with you. Enjoy. Birthright Before I could even learn to appreciate you, I was desperate to shrug you off, this mantle that clung to the nuances of my dark skin like birthplaces and legacies. You were the mirror I was ready to turn …
About your Author: Round-Up.
Seriously. Why are we doing this? You don't have a book to promote. Is that why you think I do this feature? To promote my fiction? What other infernal reason could there be? We've talked about plenty of things via this feature. The weather, working out, health. It's fun. Debatable. Anyway. What's going on? You got …
“…the thief of joy.”
For the first official post of 2016, I wanted to highlight something I feel very strongly about. As an adolescent, as a teenager, as a young woman, I suffered from an insidious type of thievery: comparing myself to others. It was a sickness. I even, at times, compared myself to myself. As in sizing myself up and …
A Different Prism.
Never mind that he's Mr. Darcy, for heavens sake, so of course he would feel that way about reading, further convincing me that he's perfect. Never mind that. Let's focus on the fact that not only is he a walking dream, but he's also right. Whether powerful novel, evocative story, thrilling poem, thought-provoking essay, or meditative …
Zelda.
so I’d like to believe that you were his Daisy Fay, holding him at bay, until all that could glitter could finally become gold. and for a time, you and your pretty egg were the toast of the town, flapping around, drunk on your jazz and roses. but you forgot, didn’t you, that such things …
This Square Peg. 