Today, Jessica prompted us to write about friendships. I have had the pleasure of being in friendship with my “sisterfriends” for 49 years. Marvin Gaye’s song, God is My Friend, inspired my poem along with memories of last week’s Girls Night. Here’s to my friends!
Our poetry prompt today came from Dave. He asked us to create a Blackout poem. I chose the lyrics to Black Orchid by Stevie Wonder to create my new poem.
Memories of Mondays
On Monday’s Chili Night
We’d drive down the hill
From our house to Nana’s
For a delectable family dinner
And bellies brimming with love
Five long miles later
Her old wooden door ajar for air and us
Enough to let the spices pique
We knew
It was a two-bowl night
A two-tortillas-and-cheese-on-top night
Some added Tabasco and black pepper
Nana’s Chili, always just right to me
Scooting up close to the table
My chin parked on the doily mat
All that good stuff
Nana’s family spread
Her “good bowls and plates”
Rolled up napkins because she’s fancy
Punch bowl ladle we couldn’t touch
Because our hands were wreckless
Mommie and Nana side by side
My sister and I eye to eye
Stepdad and cousin head the table
We’d eat
And laugh and talk
Joke about what Nana forgot to make this time
The cornbread or the salad
We would serve up round two
We’d eat again
And laugh and talk
I’d watch and remember
And make Chili Beans on a Monday night
Thirty years later
June’s Prompt for Day 4 of 5: Write your destiny. I imagined a world different from the world I live in today.
The Privilege To Be
What if we attack hatred
With the same fire that we attack love?
No one policing the thickness of
Our manes and braids,
Crowns of grandma’s love
And great-grandpa’s strength.
They wouldn’t murder the souls of
Children whose parents cross borders to
Cater to people who never look at them.
What if…
No one shamed who married whom
No one denied us the right to breathe
No one had to be hashtagged
And body-bagged.
What if we attack hatred
Not because it’s trending or
Caught on camera, but because
Everyone should have the privilege
To be loved
To be safe
To be seen
To be.
Daughter of…
By Stacey L. Joy, © May 10, 2020
I am Stacey Lorinn Johnson Joy
I am the daughter of
Gloria Lee McPherson Johnson Cooper
Adored as Mommie
Purest of people
Pristine and popular
Someone everyone admired
Connoisseur of words and puzzles
Follower of rules and righteousness
Smoker, Bowler, Badminton Champ, Legacy Delta
I am the daughter of
Mrs. Cooper
Neighborhood Mom
P.E. teacher
Career Advisor and Counselor
Respected educator
40 years in education
Who taught me how to be me
I am the daughter of
Patsy Ann McPherson
Culinary Queen Nana
Seamstress
Family matriarch
Sweetest heart of the family
Loved to party and hated to pay bills
Taught me how to cry and dance
How to cook and eat well
I am the daughter of
Proud independent black women
Working in my village
Auntie Joyce and Aunt Frankie
Sister Pam
Who loved me before I was born
Cousins who have my back
Who are my chosen sisters and brothers
Who teach me that blood and water
Are both thick enough
To bind us together
I am the daughter of
Freedom and survival
Feminism and activism
Educators who write and break the rules
Who don’t back down
Writers who inspire me
Whose stories tell
The power of sharing our words
I am the daughter of
God
Who creates all mothers
Who sustains all struggling women
Who heals all hurting nurturers
Who empowers and ignites all the work
We all do and have ever done.
Today’s prompt: Write a Where I’m From poem. I have been writing these for a long time, so it was refreshing to write a new one with different content.
I’m from “Put your hands on your hips
And let your backbone slip!”
From my mother’s strong legs and thick thighs
To wide smiles and dark brown eyes
I’m from four generations of freckles and moles
To “Stop combing your hair so much and maybe it’ll grow.”
I’m from Gloria and Jay
Both graduates of U.C.L.A.
I’m from playing school and wanting to teach
To walking on the sink to get things out of my reach
I’m from Are You My Mother?
To Are You There, God? It’s Me Margaret
I’m from creating a hidden reading room in a linen closet
To card-table tents and Barbie campers
I’m from a big yellow house on a hill in “The Dons”
To pool parties and Slip ‘n Slide scratches on my knees
From backyard baby showers and Christmas Brunch
To classy Bridge players and domino dads talkin’ trash
I’m from Hopscotch and laggers on the side of the house
To a daring first kiss that made me shiver and spit
I’m from Nestle Quik’s chocolate bubbles floating in my milk
To Gogo Burgers and Tito’s Tacos with guacamole
From burnt cheese toast and El Patio Mexican restaurant
To sardines and crackers after Saturday morning waffles
I’m from Nana’s Monday night Russian Bank and Pokeno
To Mommie’s badminton matches on Sunday mornings in the gym
I’m from “Drive safely and don’t stay out too late”
To cheerleading at Friday night football games and Shakeys after
From “You will not be driving for 2 more weeks”
To senior prom and graduation parties past curfew
I’m from “Mommie, I think I’m pregnant”
To sedation at a clinic plagued with regrets
I’m from growing up and moving out
To dorms, apartments and owning my condo
From married with two children and too many jobs too young
To divorced, grateful, and balanced
I’m from the suffering of my mother’s and father’s cancer
To the resurrection of hope and joy after grief
I’m from struggle, suffering, injustice, and inequalities
To taking a stand, sitting in, and marching onward
I’m from knowing my ancestors had it harder than us
To trusting that God is still the same today and always
I’m from poetry, chalk, protests, and music
I’m from breath and spirit
I’m from love.
Today’s Prompt: Write a Golden Shovel Poem. Find a poem that speaks to you, use the words of that poem down the margin of your own poem, then write your poem around those words.
My poem is inspired by a poem by Reyna Biddy from her book A Psalm For Us.
Isolated and Free
What was life like BEFORE
This pandemic thought PUTTING
Us in isolation might bring FORTH
Kindness? Are we to BLAME
Can we ACKNOWLEGE
Or consider THAT
Our collective hatred and ABUSE
Would have consequences? God DOESN’T
Like ugly, people ALWAYS
Say. But what may COME
FROM
Our solitude and shelter is AN
Embracing and gratitude of the beauty OUTSIDE
An unquenchable desire to discover our SOURCE
For peace and love. SOMETIMES
We need silence and stillness. WE
ABUSE
Others beyond repair but we abuse OURSELVES
To God’s despair. Go inward and examine yourself MENTALLY
Give your mind and soul an EMOTIONALLY
Uplifting message. Sing, dance and find a PHYSICALLY
Healing and strengthening practice. Rest assured, SPIRITUALLY
You are covered in God’s grace and mercy. Use your isolation to FREE
YOURSELF
What I want is
A backyard with a lap pool
For daily swims and summer luxuries
What I want is
Two chocolate Australian Labradoodles
Who wait for me each morning
Through my garden path, we walk
Up to the clearing on the hill
Where the ocean view welcomes us
Before I sit on my meditation mat
Basking in gratitude and blessings
Giving God all praise and thanks
For sunshine, salty breezes, and lavender
For intentional breathing, and stillness, and joy
What I want is
Peace that surpasses all understanding
That shields and guides my path
Back to my home where love abides
Where journals and books await my hands
Where inspiration flows beside the fountain at my back door
Where I write, read, and live the way I want
Have what I want and when I want it.
My Nana’s kitchen
Jam-packed
10 x 10
Painted in holiday memories
Turkey
“Help me pull the innards out.”
Stuffing
“We have to burn the toast first.”
Rice Dressing
“Use the grinder for the onions and peppers.”
Candied Yams
“Have you seen my marshmallows?”
Ham
“Stick the cloves in.”
Green beans
“You need to eat your vegetables.”
Mustard Greens
“Everyone loves my greens except you.”
Mincemeat pie
“You don’t know what you’re missing.”
Icebox cookies
“Stir the batter the right way!”
Fudge
“It has to melt all the way down.”
And her fizzy foamy fruit punch
Mixed with rainbow sherbet
Pineapple juice
And 7-up
In her antique punch bowl
“You better not break my cups.”
My Nana’s kitchen
Steeped in
Love
Family
Recipes
Life
Where I wondered
if her cigarette ashes
ever fell into the greens
and the pie
Or if the food stuck to her dress
was from last year
or from when my Mommie was little
Where I couldn’t question her
because it was not appropriate
I had to trust her
because she was my Nana
When she went to Heaven
I thought missing her
would be unbearable
I didn’t know
she would live
in a million different ways
She touches my life
like scattered rose petals
She is in my selfies
the little neck wrinkles
that were so genuinely hers
the gently furrowed brow
that I can’t filter away
She is in my reflection
the eyeliner that now wiggles
the thin lips that lipstick laughs at
the leg veins that resemble lightning
on thunder thighs
She is in my work
her writing on my students’ tests
her lectures about making better choices
her commitment to do more instead of less
leaving frazzled at the day’s end
She is my bedtime at 8 p.m.
and waking at 4 a.m.
She is coffee in the quiet of a new day
and prayers for her daughters
She is tired but doesn’t quit
She smiles and laughs and loves
without limits
I am she
Together always
we will be.
Happy Mother’s Day
Rest Peacefully and Joyously in Heaven, Mommie!