Ok, so I made it to day 8 of #NaPoWriMo. I’ve spent the last few days at a entrepreneur retreat and was inspired to write this.
enjoy!
push
start biz take risk leap
change grow push climb steep
take next step leave doubt
head down build grow reap
T’ang Poetry is a style of Classic Chinese Poetry that began during the T’ang Dynasty. While studying creative writing, I studied T’ang Poetry and it has forever changed how I see poetry and language. The idea is to write with minimum words and maximum impact. Enjoy!
in the presence of this morning
wake turn smile touch hip
hand cup breast warm liip
sign see sun slide shine
lift head drink day sip
Kicking off National Poetry Month with the #NaPoWriMo (National Poetry Writing Month) challenge: 1 poem a day.
It’s not about worrying the poem to death or making it perfect. It’s about putting it out there, being vulnerable and sharing. I am grateful for this opportunity to share my gifts as a poet, lover of language and technologist. Enjoy!
it is good to remember
that there was a time before this
i see you squatting in the corner of the public restroom
i see you having locked yourself in your room
unable to see what’s next how to leave
him how to grow yourself out of this job where
the men who say they love your work at work
want you to say you love them
it is good to remember
that there was a time before this
you my dear
belonged to some body
you my dear belonged
to someone
warmth sat beside you wrapped its arms around you pulled
you in close and the skin the contact welcomed you into the world
and that was another way to explain grace
it is good to remember
just when you feel you can’t breathe just when you’re beginning
to wonder if you can expand your chest and just exhale
everything you’ve ever wanted to say
say it now my dear
say it now
it is good to remember
there were giggles before this
all of us laughed and hollered
hyena style before this
the ones without parents
the ones with the drug addicted loved ones
the ones with the perfect family portrait
all of us will one day end up curled up in the corner
in a public restroom or our own private ones
and be unable to breathe
this is when i need you
to remember
that there was a time before this moment
when you were loved
and if it happened before
it will happen once
again
© Uchechi Kalu 2017
Happy International Poetry Day!
In celebration, I was inspired to write this poem.
Singing America
We started with tacos
everyone says this is the best place
she was the thing that caught my attention
she must have been my mothers age
translucent skin browned by heritage
this is Mexico
she sang
we too, are America
the light was shining down on her
the stage flamed with all she was giving us
her heartbeat shot straight out and
hit me
just as she opened her mouth for the next song
she liquified fear and spilled it for all of us
it dripped onto the floor and somehow I wanted to smear my hands
in it and cover myself in this imagination of what could be
this must be the country we dream of
maybe she is America
browned and pushing 60 and so sure of herself
that wink she gives me says everything
maybe she too is the America I’ve always loved
long dark hair rich with history and allowance of grays as evidence of our sins but there to remind us of what not to do again
maybe she too is the America
when she opens her mouth I spy a hint of metal
braces tucked of metal
braces careening out of her mouth
the awkward girl
the pimpled boy
but no we will not tease her
because she is absolutely glorious
maybe she too is the America I’ve always wanted
reminding us all that always wanted
by now we have finished the tacos
and the margaritas and I can’t leave without requesting a song
Gracias A La Vida
She bows towards me starts to pluck her guitar and the song goes
it just keeps going
Thank You Life
She is tilting her head back and singing with every muscle
I can see it
she is choosing to believe tat that life
in the end
has been good to us
On the way out she grabs my hand as I
put something in her basket
those eyes dark like plums
Yes, this is America
her awkward smile
her wrinkled skin her belief that good things do happen
her colored past her wrongs often never made right
her brownness her colored ness her other ness but sameness
her belief that she can do anything she wants including sing in a bar when she’s pushing my mother’s age
her sure eyes her love for the other
this is what I love about her
Now, I’m just asking her to come
home
© Uchechi Kalu 2017
It is morning
again
how easily we forget
this comes to us easy
the sun
there for another day
we forget
everything is not covered in hard
or difficult
some things happen
over and over
again and again
without effort
to give us this day
our daily morning
so we don’t forget
© Uchechi Kalu