Black Poetry : Replanting seeds


Well-Known Member
Mar 19, 2001
When she was eleven
momma taught her how
to handle herself in the garden
/hoe in one hand, shears in the
other/ and seeds
waiting to be planted to
say hello to her in another life
wave to her in the wind

When she was seventeen
she tended to her
own garden
they said she had a "problem"
spending so much time in
an area where they did
not know she found peace
they ridiculed her
and ostracized her very
existence...dehumanizing her
method of breathing
took her voice from her

she laughed at the hecklers
and lived life the way that
made her happy
in the garden where
she found sounds of

When she was 25 she had her first
child, a boy, a proud African prince
by the time she made 40 she had
three strong young men

waiting to take on the world........

........she knew that the sad thing
about plants is that one day they
will die....death is inevitable she
thought...........and she accepted
this reality.......

then the shots rang out the screams
sang out and there was...her first
born....mind torn...wanting to expel
her feelings of a woman's scorn cause
her "seed" has found a premature death
out of breath the tears left her to spend
more time in her garden/less time with
her two remaining sons/they never let
momma know of their discontent they
wanted her to be happy/so it was best
,in their minds, that's where her days should
be spent/planting/watering/wondering how
her garden will grow now that her oldest
plant has returned to it's creation.....

a knock at the door woke her one morning
after she spent the night worrying why her
middle son had not made it home....sit down
please, the voice told her, "I have bad news"
another plant wilted that day under an evil sun
that sent a message to her youngest one

....take care of momma/never really
had time to deal with his feelings of resentment
how his brothers had left him to face
a savage world alone/ so he lived with his mind blown
as momma sleeped/creeped to the neighborhood
hood to get something to make him feel
"all good"......

too much pesticide killed her last plant that
day.....she died in her garden of chrysanthemums,
posies, lilies, philedandrons, and tulips
while watering her plants with pain and sorrow
with a hope that no longer saw tommorow

the garden saw the beginning of her
the ending and the dash in between
she died
doing something she loved replanting
if only they
................weren't of her flower.

(c)2001 blakverb

i'm sitting here wit my moof open
this was like a mini-movie

it was moving along on that planting stuff

then you get snuffed by reality

yo the talents comes thru strong

check your lines of communication



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