Black Poetry : Braiding Sonia's Hair

Discussion in 'Black Poetry - Get Your Flow On!' started by Hunter, Sep 10, 2001.

  1. Hunter

    Hunter Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    [dedicated to Sonia Sanchez]

    It was a quarter to 3:00 a.m. and I needed Sonia Sanchez to rescue the sleeplessness in me. She handed me her book of poems and told me to "SHAKE LOOSE MY SKIN" and catch the verses flying in the air. She whispered her "DEAR MAMA"
    to my weepy ears and I listened. I twirled my fingers in and around her hair. I needed to feel the texture...touch the freedom of her unruly locks.

    So hard to hear her whisper really...standing in the middle of that verse. The ground feels like somebody's Mama has died. How many more Mamas will be sacrificed... for the sake of death standing in sad spirited poems.

    Again...and again...that impatient phrase just keeps asking me for..

    "My First Real Poem...my first real poem...my first..."

    Sonia can you hear me? I would speak louder if you were not around

    "My first real poem was....an island"

    Nassau island still lives inside my belly. I give birth to that first day...over and over
    and over again. That first day my seven year old eyes stitched up my Momma's hemline. Daddy beating up on Mommy and the neighbors were always watching us. We lived...the circus that came to stay family sort of way...

    And nobody told me that the poetry would bring me pain

    I get so tired Sonia...so tired...wish I could just stay this way...stay...and re-train your locks...such a shame really...such a shame...that they forced me to carry a family of six on my back this way.

    Hold your head still Sonia...please just let me corn the rows...let me release each strand in my own way...yes...you can coin the phrases...

    That second poem was....the sound of screams...my own...Momma beating me.

    Momma was a Mathematician-magician and she taught me how to do arithmetic with the lights out. I learned how to suffer silently and how to multiply...my pain...to arrive at solutions to slave equations. I felt only a fraction of what they must have been through...on plantations.

    I am sorry Sonia but sometimes...I must talk in rhythms under rhymes..but that's just because I don't want him following me....shhhhh....hush yo' mouth Ms. Girl and hold onto the hair comb quietly.

    That's how he first fingered me

    That third poem was....a black man. I didn't even hear him coming.

    He was light brown eyes at seventeen. I see-ed him crying once before. I thought it was safe to lay down beside him cos' his shoulders were shakin' and I thought they were cryin' out for me. I blanketed myself in his insecurity. Fifteen years later the sleep ended and a shiny, bald-headed, black man arose. I could see my exaggerated reflection off the top of his dome.

    And

    Those eyes...those eyes...fluttered open and told me that he hated his Momma's womb. Then he borrowed her hands to slap me and I hated her sharp fingernails too...

    And you say you want that fourth real poem Sonia?...That fourth poem?...Why? Girl your hair is nearly done?

    No...don't ask me to feed you that unfinished biography...of my one true beloved son. Suffering so long Sonia...so long...suffering...

    The unwritten lines and miles and miles and miles...to travel...just to reach him. He lives over there now. On the island. No..it's not Nassau...I made sure not to upset his stomache with the neighbors.

    Yes I tried really hard Sonia...really hard..but you see...now we are both homeless

    And yes...

    This is his "First Real Poem..."


    Hunter
    All Rights Reserved
     
  2. $$RICH$$

    $$RICH$$ Lyon King Admin. STAFF

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    Roots & tides bonded

    Sistah Queen u scribe a masterpiece of life
    as it bring me into full joy of she .......thank thee
     
  3. alyce

    alyce Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    My dear sister

    The first reading of this masterpiece held me captive, so much so I didn't dare move for several minutes afterward. I could see you and Sonia...and I could hear you speaking...the unspeakable details of a life lived, in my opinion, undeservedly. But ohh, my dear sister, as I sit here with tears streaming down my face...trembling as I type...it is so clear that only you could tell this story. Only you could sit us down and make us, shake us free of our own dark tangles... with your skillful fingers...
    with your healing ink.

    (Your obedience to the voice of God is a testimony to me.)

    Thank you

    a
     
  4. GYPSYMAN

    GYPSYMAN Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    Hunter !!

    This is a study in Pro-Prose...Powerful flow-z in the key of Life !
    I will read this many more times...it is Magnetic !

    Peace and Love
    g-man
     
  5. dnommo

    dnommo Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    i am humbled by your voice and i stretch my arms to you to hug your pain. i see you as your pen scribes your innocence and i know you as your hearts sings to the conversations with sonia...

    ***abyssmal embrace***
     
  6. GA_Sunshyne

    GA_Sunshyne Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    Hunter.


    ...what can i say to you... that i haven't said before?

    you already know that i am in awe of your talent...
    you already know that you inspire me...
    you already know that i am humbled by your presence...
    so i don't wanna be redundant... i'll just say...
    this was exquisite-ly You! (dats a new one, i'm sure) :)

    AlwaysPeace.
    SunShyne~
     
  7. Kitana

    Kitana Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    Hunter...this is so raw and so deeply, gut-wrenching emotional that I read it and then just sat here trying to think what I could say...these are the words of a soul laid bare and they are beautiful in their honesty...your talent to evoke strong emotion in the reader is awesome....

    K
     
  8. Hunter

    Hunter Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    $RICH$, alyce, dnommo, GYPSYMAN, GA, Kitana...

    thank-you for being patient with the tangles of Sonia's hair. Sometimes in this life...all we really need to do is sit still...and comb out the 'kinks'.

    Yes..Kitana..'a soul laid bare'...I have never found the right clothes to dress up my poetry...so I scribe my naked truths and celebrate my birthday suit...

    This poem brought the pain...but as I bleed..I write......

    *healing-wounds*
     
  9. j'hiah

    j'hiah Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    this was more than just a poem or a prose, for me this was an absolute experience. this was a journey in spirit.
    sets like a movie with the narrative stroke of a Terry Mcmillan, but better.

    i could go on, but that's why i won't.

    nfinitely,
    jh.
     
  10. UL820

    UL820 Well-Known Member MEMBER

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    Iread, then I re-read and then I read it again. And each time the power increased. The beauty and the power tempts my inner man to read it again.
     
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