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The Movement: Poetry


We must stretch out our hands to help one another...

Hello All!  I haven’t posted anything in a while, been crazy busy!  I also haven’t posted any poetry in a long time but when inspiration hits a poet will pay $100 for a pen just to write out our thoughts or we’ll explode from the burden of our emotions.  But instead of just writing I decided to use my webcam for the first time and record what I was feeling.  Please click on the link below to view the piece.  I hope it touches your heart because it definitely came from the heart.  Be blessed friends, today and forever!

The Movement – spoken word

ChUC

Love & Death…


Happy Flash Fiction Tuesday! Enjoy the latest 300 word story! Feel free to leave comments…
Kimeko
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“Brothers and Sisters, Deacon Rudolph paid rent on earth to secure his room in heaven. We should be rejoicing with the angels! Hallelujah!”

Pastor Allen really knew how to send a soul home. It didn’t matter if it belonged to a devoted Christian or a Saturday night sinner. In the deacon’s case everyone knew the soul was both. Even still, the Pastor’s eulogy had Sister Maylene doing the roach-stomp, mosquito-swat, can’t hold my mule shout for nearly twenty minutes. Ebenezer Baptist didn’t have enough fans or ushers to console her. The pastor hooped and Maylene hollered. Mourner’s tears rolled down her cheeks and her funeral hat wouldn’t stay on. She pranced down the aisle like she was letting Deacon know she had nothing to do with that god awful purple suit he was wearing. Thank goodness she didn’t get inside the casket.

“Lord, what I’m gon’ do”, were the only words Maylene said under her breath.

Everything else was loud, so loud that Sister Henrietta kept cutting her eyes at her. But Henrietta’s red hot stares did little to deter Maylene from feeling the spirit. Before Maylene could pass out from exhaustion, Henrietta motioned to Pastor Rudolph that she was ready.

“Now, we’ll have a moment of reflection from our dear Sister Henrietta. Church, this woman has the strength of David. Let’s praise Jesus as she comes.”

Sister Henrietta was a dignified Christian and the congregation adored her. She was the church’s ultimate Mother, even above First Lady Rudolph, so when she walked towards Maylene and gave her a long embrace nobody was surprised.

Everyone strained to hear Henrietta’s comforting words to Maylene.

“We shared him in life but he’s mine in death. Sit your tail down while I speak about my husband.”

Maylene was noticeably absent at the burial.

The Reunion


This week’s Flash Fiction Tuesday is dedicated to my Granny and my brother in honor of their birthdays. I miss you both but I know you’re watching over me! ~Love, Kim
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Flossie Mae Williams (June 2, 1938 – December 29, 2006)
Kurt Lavon Farrar (June 5, 1975 – August 30, 2006)

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During summer vacations the entire Mosley family drove down South to visit Granny and PawPaw. The reunions were filled with lots of love and fun on Mineral Lake. We kids played outside until we turned two shades darker and Granny always gave her only granddaughter a new barrette from her neatly wound bun. The smell of PawPaw’s ribs cooking on the grill brought flies as far away as Rhode Island and Granny’s peach cobbler made bees spit out their nectar in envy.

“Letta, Letta!”

My cousin, Xavier, screamed my name when my parents and I arrived.

“Let’s go swimming”, Xavier whispered before I could grab my suitcase.

We both took off towards the lake. Mama yelled, “Letta wait, we need to talk!” but I couldn’t stop my stride. Xavier’s giraffe legs were outrunning me and I wanted to beat him at doing a perfect cannonball. Fully clothed in a Care Bears t-shirt and Jordache cutoffs I jumped into the cool water. I sank to the bottom with a smile on my face knowing that I had beat Xavier. I kicked my legs to swim to the surface but I couldn’t move. My shorts were caught on something. I fought the water until my lungs burned, my vision blurred and I could kick no longer.

“Take my hand, Letta.”

Granny’s gray hair flowed like an exotic mermaid. She pulled me to the sand and I wondered why she never wore it down before.

“I will always love you, Letta. Remember that.”

“I love you too, Granny.”

“Letta”, Mama screamed as I spewed water from my lungs.

“Granny saved me, Mama.”

“That’s impossible, Letta. We’re here for your Granny’s funeral. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

I cried into my hands for a whole minute before I noticed the barrette there.

Home Going…


Hmmm, this one might be a brain teaser. Enjoy!!

“Georgia-Mae, you’re so fine you could make the devil preach the Gospel”.

Slick was slicker than the flea-market oils he rubbed into his hair but he actually got his name from running numbers back in the day. That was before he got busted during the Kentucky Derby and was forced to burn his books and move into the family house.

“Sorry to hear about your Mama.” Georgia-Mae offered her condolences.

Slick had spent the last two weeks on Ms. Ann’s porch sweet talking her oldest unmarried daughter. If he were still running the streets he wouldn’t have looked at her twice, not even with a belly full of his Papa’s corn liquor. Now things were different; he was all alone.

“So have you changed your mind yet?”

“I’m not marrying you, Slick. You’re no good. Go home.”

Slick’s eyes pleaded with Georgia-Mae, like a lame thoroughbred before the bang of the gun. He knew he could never go home. He couldn’t force himself to walk up the rickety old steps or smell the heavy scent of lard baked into the century old walls. Every room held someone’s soul so he couldn’t go back. Not alone anyway. He needed a family.

“I love you Georgia-Mae”, Slick blurted.

Georgia-Mae searched his face for a lie. “I thought you loved needle nose Mary.”

“Don’t be like that.”

“You smell like a horse stable. Just go home.”

“Home, can’t go home, not alone”, Slick thought to himself. That house gobbled up people. He was the only one left. Slick curled his fingers around the flesh of Georgia-Mae’s wrist. “I need someone to love, someone to love me. I wanna look forward to living, not dying. I need you.”

“Okay, but this is the last time. C’mon Ebony. We’re gonna go stay with your Daddy.”

Essence


I went there
The place where his essence still lives
It smells
Smells of nickel bags, the smoke from black and milds and basketball sneakers
It hangs from the ceilings and clings to old burgundy curtains
It blends with the mahogany of the chest of drawers
It’s present
In every stain, every scratch, every scent
It grabs hold of me
Forces me to stand still, to remember
The sound of the vacuum won’t drown out the voices
Wiping walls won’t scrub away the memories
No matter how many days go by
He’s there

Published as a part of

Poetry Potluck @ Jingle Poetry, Theme: Dreams, Visions & Reveries

Grandmama’s Song


She used to be a kid, before I knew her, and before I was my mother’s child
She played in fields of high weeds and old barns and hoped to finish the 6th grade
She was poor and orphaned but saw the world fondly
Past women’s emancipation, segregation and finally integration
She used to be a drinker, a smoker, a partier and nosey too
Before she got saved
When her body was shaped like a coke bottle men swarmed like bees to taste her sweetness
And I watched
She curled her hair with strips of brown paper sacks before putting on bold print dresses and painting her fingernails red to match her lips
She used to be my caregiver, my cook, and my comedian
She bought me penny candy and Pepsi every first of the month
And nobody in the world made hot water cornbread like her
My Grandmama
Until cancer diminished her youth and spirit and left me with memories that hurt long before they brought comfort
But she didn’t complain
As a matter of fact it was a long-long while before we even knew
Because to her it was more about us being okay
Now, as I leave her flowers and rub my fingers across cold stone
I picture her flying high across the sky
Hair long and black
Skin firm and smooth and joints agile
Hugging the clouds with arms of love and laughter

Ode to My Dear Cousin


It’s impossible to know what tomorrow may bring
Yesterday is the only gift we are all guaranteed
Cousin, you have led a life filled with courage
You have done your best
So as you close your eyes on this side of life
Be at peace and be at rest

We may shout out to the hills
We may scream in pain
And most of us will surely cry
But dear cousin
Keep your eyes on the prize
Take hold of Jesus’s hand
Soon we’ll see you in that Promised Land

So go on now
Join those who have left here before
Rejoice with the aunts, uncles, parents, and friends
Waiting at Heaven’s door
Fly high like the birds then take your final bow
It’s your time dear cousin to watch over us now

God requests your presence in his heavenly kingdom
You’ll be paid for your service with everlasting freedom
The sweetest of sweet rewards
Until death none of us can afford
I miss you and I love you but I know your soul is at perfect harmony
Say hey to the family for me, be happy and be free

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