Banana Skirt
Banana Skirt
Young with fruitful purpose
Blossoming into words-
“I am Woman”
Grown from the seeds of home
Born fruitfully endowed into trial
With berries of milk
Leaves of pink
Curves of bursting corn
“I, a black Woman”
My skin, a peeling
Covering the buds
Blossoming into overt
Speech against the weeds
Who pretend to be flowers
Occluding to capitalize on Sun
Too young
To understand there is enough
For me, too.
~ quill rose
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manifesting finding a hand written note in the next book you read 📚
Snow on Poetry Lane
Down University Avenue,
Past the Cub Foods
And the Caribou coffee
Lies Poetry Lane
The words are etched
Onto immoveable concrete
A community’s love bared to the world
Yet the sky tests the citizens,
Opening a flurry of thick flakes
Fitting to the compressed letters
Slowly taking up space.
The prose stands out in white
Glittering under streetlamps
And porch lights.
Feet clad protectively shuffle along the lane
Pausing at the words
Before stepping
Unreading
Packing the snow in deeper.
Gobs of white yet fall
Burying Poetry Lane
Burying the hearts of those
Brave enough to cement the truth
Until one gloved hand
Warmly brushes aside the blanket
Shedding light on the community, and
Poetry Lane, at least for a moment.
“you gotta love yourself, baby. if you don’t, who will?”
— sharon g. flake, the skin i’m in
“Mine the long night The secret place Where lovers meet In long embrace In purple dark In silvered kiss Forget the world And grasp your bliss” - A.S. Byatt, Possession
my page has become a seagull fanpage
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quillrosetellsstories reblogged this · 2 years ago
