i don't write poetry but i sure like reading it, so here's one of the few i was browsing....
Self
All went dark as I thought to myself
Organizing my feelings
Trying to understand my mind-set
Moments…I talked to myself
Before Self had to sit me down and confer with me
How can you not see
The beautiful African Princess that you have come to be???
A "Queen"? No, Young Sista…that title you have yet to obtain
Only Twenty Years…
You need to play a little longer in the game
Sittin here…lip poked out
Wondering what went wrong…
Did you think of "wrong" when that no good brother was singing his
sweet love song
Uttering nothing short from lies
While the good one
Yeah…the one with the glasses
The quiet one to the side
You let slide
He was calling you by your name…
But I guess you're so used to hearing "Baby" and "Shawty"
You must think that those words on your birth certificate and they are one
in the same
And I am so sick of the word "diet"…
Baby, that thing behind you…
YEAH…THAT
Is a beautiful gift acknowledging the mothers' who came before your
presence
And those are baby bearing hips…
The most gorgeous asset of a colored woman's essence
Embrace those curves…
They are not flaws---they are flawless
You cry in the mirror
Because of the imperfect you that you think that everyone will recognize
That you forget to smile for your amiable soul
Oh, but you can't see that solely with your eyes
You're beautiful, Little Sista
So beautiful that you glow
But with every doubt,
Every qualm
You knock all of that with a shadow
No, Young One
A "Queen" you are not ready to be…
But as soon as you let the World go
And Self rise
The forename will fit you impeccably…
Written by Anesa Laneigh
I like this poem
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