‘How’ Do You Know?

Who I Say I Am

What were you born to do? Is there even such a thing as being born to do something? How can you know for certain? At what point along the journey do you receive confirmations about your gifts, purpose, or calling? How can we have clarity about the answers to these questions?

These questions confound most of us at some point in our lives; yet, I’m convinced that no two answers are exactly the same. This is because no two people ever see the world exactly the same way.

Continue reading ‘How’ Do You Know?

Masquerading

mask-of-love1

It’s throwback Thursday
so I wrote a rhyme
to take you way
back through my time

Venture with me
if you will
while I make your time
stand still

When girls rocked braids
instead of locs
when boys spit lyrics
on the blocks

When nerds like me
remained inside
‘cuz carryin’ books
was cause for chiii…ding
anyone who dared to be
a different personality

Street prophets
moved with swag
dismissed the beauty
that they had

Vulllll…nerable
yet full of fright
miiight … ier
but playing small
afraid of what would be their fall

Flexin’
halfway playing strong
scared to death
without a throng

This poem’s just for them
the original rude boys an ’em

Frontin’
flossin’
playing hard
scared that I might pull their card
out here on dis’ boulevard

Dare I beat them
at their game
dare I make them
forget their name

A girl can’t win
nah uh
no way
not then

But what now
you say?

—-

Written by Life Artist, Avril Somerville – Author | Speaker | Poet

#iWriteLife #iSpeakLife

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Why We Must Write

198

What good is your pen, they ask
dem just words on a page, you know
markings on a sheet
indication that maybe
you have
too much time on your hands
maybe…

I tell them
there’s power in this here pen
what I’m doing is
making war on this here page
and sometimes love too
Continue reading Why We Must Write

Dance Woman, Dance

Loving
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
remembering
sharing
flowing

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.

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 Dreaming of A Nightmare Killer