Dance Woman, Dance

Saturday mornings
when there’s coffee
and sun showers
filtering through old windows

when it’s clean
when there’s flow
when I’m writing
while the house is still, quiet.

When age-old griots inspire
and new-age poets remember
we share our tales and stories
make them tall and personal

women writing

my ancestors dance inside me
beckon me to finish
welcome me to the circle
“the floor is yours”, they say
“you, yes you”

1295536158-ubw_southern_diaries_ayano_hisa1the oldest sway
nods yes
no words are spoken
no need
the middlers hold court
we make merriment

Our dresses laugh
make sport of rainbows
for we are so much more colorful and beautiful
radically unscripted

even in our quiet
in our regaling
we affirm each other
our individual might
our stealth
our silent strength

We are power
yet it’s me
who’s made anew.

Reprise: Dreaming of A Nightmare Killer

“A person is the product of their dreams. So make sure to dream great dreams. And then try to live your dream”, says Maya Angelou, in Wouldn’t Take Nothing for My Journey Now.

Lord rest her soul, but Continue reading


Let Me Be Your Dream Killer

“A person is the product of their dreams. So make sure to dream great dreams. And then try to live your dream”, says Maya Angelou, in Wouldn’t Take Nothing for My Journey Now.

Lord rest her soul, but Continue reading

Feels Just Right

wheel-3-28-10-005It isn’t even high noon yet, but dinner’s damn near done. Loads are washing and drying, I’ve written, am dressed, and my house is clean. I’ve responded to a few messages, caught up with some of my favorite bloggers, had a series of quiet epiphanies and aha moments, have a pretty good idea of what I need to do today, and a solid plan for getting it done. I even

Continue reading

Jumping Rope Alone

As a girl growing up in New York City, I often found myself on the sidelines of many a Double Dutch game.  I was what other girls called “double-handed” – incapable of simultaneously turning the two long ropes in opposite directions, while yet another girl jumped in rhythm between them, over the sounds of chanting or cheering onlookers and rope turners.  I desperately wanted to jump because, as a younger child in the West Indies, I jumped rope regularly with school mates during recess and outdoor play, however, Continue reading

The Blessing of Invisible Ink

Writer SomerEmpress shares how she was personally affected by seeing and hearing author, Toni Morrison, speak about the “Invisible Ink”.

After 83 years of living, and well over four decades of publishing novels, including her most recent Home, and masterpieces such as Tar BabySong of Solomon and The Bluest Eye, it is no doubt that Toni Morrison has garnered a body of wisdom. So, when I recently had the blessing to see and hear her lecture on the power of “Invisible Ink”, I knew I was in for a real treat.

Continue reading

SMH… This Lenten

This Lenten season, I took a bit of a social media hiatus (tell me you didn’t think I was just here shaking my head) to focus more intently on various important matters, including my writing.  It was time well spent.  

I celebrated my dear friend’s birthday and thoroughly enjoyed being in the presence of her, and her friends––none of whom I knew, because I simply love her.  She’s my hermana.  Spent time with yet another friend, caught up on life, and exchanged notes on the challenges of managing our creative pursuits and desires, while being wife and mother.  She’s my homie.

Being more present during this time allowed me to reconnect with both friends in meaningful ways.  Not being distracted while doing so was a refreshing change.  Good conversation and time well spent with a few good friends is essential for the soul. No need for filters or preamble.  No judgement.  Connection in a real, no-holds barred kind of way.

At home, I had the opportunity to listen more patiently to my children.  When my son called home to bargain with me––he would stay outside and play ball with his friends and not come straight home, then pick up his sisters and walk them home––”to give you more time to write, Mom”, I couldn’t refuse. I listened more to the unspoken words from all three of them, and sensed their need and appreciation for my full attention.

I sat right across my sweetheart … more often. Even when he wasn’t speaking directly to me, he was still present, needing my presence.  Just knowing I was in the same space with him, undistracted and available should he need me, was all he needed, and I didn’t seem to mind.

And of course, I had more time to write. Yes!  

This time of Lenten just happened to line up perfectly with my need for introspection and quiet reflection.  Though I understand the importance of fasting and withdrawal, and a more turning inward of the soul, I generally do not “give up” any one physical item during Lent.  I am also mindful, and respectful of, many others who do not recognize or take part in Lent, so I’ll leave you with “Lend Ten“.  I believe it speaks more directly to the core of what’s important, beyond prescribed times and events on any religious calendar. (smh)

Lend Ten

Lend me your ten
All I need

To do the handiwork you were called to do
That work which needs no assists

The making
The loving
The gifting 
The telling 

The touching
The caressing
The hold-me-close-because…
I just need to feel you
Stroking … me

The revitalizing 
The restoring 
The covering 
You know what I’m talking about 
Those pretty ten
‘Dem calloused, rough-hewn ten
Those still very useful 

Stretch through those ten
With every bit of power, lady… 
Lend me your ten
Let your energy soar
Through them ten

Fire breathes life from your fingertips
Burning deep into hollow places
Taking refuge where
Coals need stoking and
hearts need Ten…. ding
Lend ten

© SomerEmpress and Life As An Art Form, [2010 – 2014]. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to SomerEmpress and Life As An Art Form with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


Cringing at the thought that what I pour into my 14yo Black son is not enough
That despite
The discipline with which I rear him
The love with which I affirm him
The pride with which I love him
The way in which I’ve taught him
Won’t be Continue reading

What Really Matters


Writer SomerEmpress shares how a too-close-to-home event
crystallized her understanding of what matters most.

The sudden passing of the husband of a dear woman I’ve recently had the pleasure of meeting, jarred me to my core this past weekend. He wasn’t much older than my husband. In addition to his wife, he left their two young children, a girl and a boy.

Though our lives don’t intersect as they would with closer friends and family, it has been difficult to go through the routines of my day without considering them.  As I prepare the children for the morning, make breakfast, and call up to my husband that coffee is ready, I am mindful of the small, yet Continue reading