Imani Wisdom's brainchild -- Pink Noire Publications -- has been known for her unpredictable style of storytelling. Now its founder is expanding the "pink and black" brand to shine on prolific artists. From the inspirationalist, Danica Worthy to bestselling author, Stacy Deanne, Pink Noire understand these talented individuals know how to express their craft through words, song, dance, and stroke of a brush.




My caramelized sweetness is from my gifted crown to my tireless feet. My black skin is nothing to be feared. I am a product of teachers, preachers, and sharecroppers; folks who help shaped this nation.  Don’t judge me because my skin is different.  Darkness maybe defined as an undesirable trepidation, but so are falsehoods and misinterpretations.

My caramelized sweetness is captivating not because of its superficial. It’s the spirit that lives me. From my ancestors removing the sweat from their brow to the accustom calluses on their hands they use to plow. From being banished from public places to being spat on their smooth black faces. Enduring vile treatment time after time and still wore their old tired smiles.

I am a GOD given gift.  We shouldn’t try to be tamed, shamed, and intimidated to believe we aren’t special. Superiority is an iniquity of lies; a deception of a pathway that can lead to a calamity of cries. Our tears cleanse deep down our souls. Let it rain; let it fall, as we are the brethren of HIS image. 

My smile is a forefront to my personality. My eyes are a window to my soul, and my heart can bleed from sorrow.  And yet, I know there one thing that’s true; me, myself, and I are no different than you!  I am smart, creative, and more importantly, beautiful on the inside. Shouldn’t that look beyond your myriad of stereotypes and lies?

If anything, darkness utters from the laze lips of ignorance that are the falsehoods and misinterpretations.  It’s the core of hate that spins out of control. Thus, you can try judging what you see. A fool relies on their eyes to feel their way through life, but it takes a person to slowly walk through the green pastures, strong and upright.

So my caramelized sweetness is nothing that should be feared.  I am like you—I weep. I love. I work. I sleep. I laugh. I sing, and I am of HIS children. We’re brothers and sisters as a divine one.  Get past the hate and love another one as human beings. The choice is yours.

Wake up!

©Imani Wisdom, 2008 

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I’m staring at a blank screen to an anxious blinking cursor, pondering of what to write for this post.  My mind is still in a foggy daze of what occurred in the last week.  The pain remains arduous and it still hurts like a hell

Since my mom has been laid to rest, I don’t know which way to go.  I even thought carefully if I should continue with my dream as a published author.  Of course, I can imagine anyone who knows me are screaming at their computer screens saying, “Nooooooooo, don’t give up!”

Though, it’s easier to tell someone not to give up, but it’s another to actually feel the loneliness and the painful void by an absence of your main support system.  My mother was the one who encouraged me to pursue my dream.  She believed in me as a writer before I believed in myself.  Anything that I have read to her, either as an eight year old writing her first song lyrics to an adult finishing her short story, she would lay in the bed where she was bound for twenty years with an approving smile.  “Oh my goodness” She gleefully awed, “I don’t know why you haven’t pursued this years ago”.

I always responded shyly, “You’re only saying that because you’re my mother”.  Then again, she got real with me about my singing. Let’s just say it should be left in the shower and not as a career. (smile)

All in all, I have a complete manuscript—also known as my fourth child—sitting in my zip and hard drive waiting to be edited; I also have an edited manuscript that’s waiting to be typeset along with a book cover; a short story that’s suppose to be release on eBooks, but I’m pushing it later this summer, and three unfinished scripts patiently waiting to be completed.

The idea of these tasks aren’t overwhelming, it’s the emotional aspect of not calling my mother about problems with character a or b, or taking a well-deserved break when she calls me about the Star Wars marathon on TV or her beloved Colts scoring a touchdown, that’s what’s overwhelming me.  It’s the smallest things that suddenly fade without notice, breaking ones heart into millions of pieces. 

So for the last week, I’ve been wearing a heavy heart wondering if it’s worth moving on with this ambitious dream.  I’ve been praying and meditating seeking comforting answers.  Then finally I came to the conclusion, I’ll be dishonoring my mother if I quit!

My Imani’s “How To” Moment, if you walk your path to your destiny there will always be bumps in the road.  In my case, I was walking up the Rockies to get my dream. Now by my mother’s passing, it’s becoming Mount Everest.  I’m facing a monumental task.  Some would ask why don’t I write query letters to a literary agent and make it easier on myself.  I guess I could, but my dream is see this under my own label.  I want see how far I can push the limits at this ambitious idea because I know if it pans out, I can say, I did this creation despite all of the stumbling blocks and naysayers!

I also realize after the funeral, the world is still going.  The sky is still blue, the birds are flying to their destination, and her favorite movie of all time, Star Wars has a marathon as I type this.  Basically, you or I can’t stop living just because someone close to us has passed away.  My mother wouldn’t want to me quit, and deep inside I know I’ll regret it if I don’t at least try at this writing thing. 

So people, pray for me! It’s going to be a bumpy ride.

To be continued…

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you're my harmony
to a beautiful note
a tune that hums
softly into my soul
a crescendo escalate
into my heart
rising the scales of 
harmonizing subtly
into me
a ballad of desire
streaming closely
tightly against 
my body
making love like a slow
picking up intensely
that last so long
making up musical 
as you go along
the notes i'm feeling
are good to me
my love is on key
i wanna love 
you down
kissing you fiercely
conveying my feelings
to you
symphonize affection
hypnotize my direction
to my freedom
of being of woman
love me strong
hold me all night
connect with me until
sun rise
shimmering rays
kisses our naked
as we are one
loving all night and 
waking up to the sun
composing our love
like a fine 
lyrically speaking
i love you
until music
won't ever exist
i love you 
more than an
ordinary kiss
i love you
until the end 
of time
i love you
all morning
all night
i love you
i love you
i love you
i love you
this is my chorus
before i close
these words
                before i wrap 
these lyrics
         before i close
my eyes
let me reiterate
i will love you
until the end of 
© 2007, Imani Wisdom

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A Tribute for Harriett


She has her wings and flying high among the supple clouds.  Suffering is now an illusion of yesterday where physical sorrows overtook her gentle soul.  The bondage of her bed is no more and the spasms that shudder her spirit, vanishes to a distant memory.  She is now rising above her own expectations.  Moving onto a spiritual realm where an abundance of love reigns supreme.

It’s easy to be saddened with grief because it’s human.  God gives us that emotion to cleanse the burden from our soul.  Those tears are our comfort as if it’s HIS way of saying, it’s going to be okay—I’m here. 

Yet, I know tears are only a small part of it. She’s at a place that’s greater than the imagination.  It’s a place many live day by day on this earth to venture when we take our final breath.  All of our questions we’ve asked about life are mundane compared to the magnitude of what lies ahead. Life shouldn’t be about a timeline, we should live it with full of zest as if any day will be our last day like my mother, Harriett Wisdom

The American poet, Ralph Waldo Emerson says, It is not the length of life, but the depth. My mother was a prime example of how she lived within the depths of her life.  She may not have lived with all of her working limbs, but she knew in fact how to live.  She knew how to push the depths of her life by learning to love what was around her, appreciating what she still had.  What she accomplished during her life; such as, her college degrees, winning the 1976 High School Sectional Championship as a coach, and her family could not ever be taken away.  Those memories are imprinted in our hearts and stamped with her love. 

Now that she went home to be with her father, Harry and her younger sister, Niecy and the rest of her family who had gone before her, it’s understandable for all us wishing she could stay a little longer by sharing another laugh, sitting at her bedside watching a football or basketball game, or just simply calling her on the phone to hear her voice once more. 

I, for one, I want to hold on to that selfishness and wrap it around my mother, holding onto her until the Angels in Heaven fly down and pry her from my arms. That egocentricity is as natural as the air we breathe.  Though, I also know that we have to let go and let God. Acceptance is indeed a part of life.

After years of not being able to walk, she taking her steps on Zion’s Road or some may call Paradise to discover her earthly purpose. So while we’re shedding tears with heavy hearts, my mother is beginning her journey toward eternal bliss.  Her example of tenacity and courageousness will lie within our hearts forever. It will never wane.

So, momma, there are no goodbyes only infinite hellos.  Have a happy journey and we will see each other someday.  Hopefully, I’ll have plenty of new stories to tell you.

Me and my mom

Love always your daughter,

Imani Wisdom
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“Among the breeze that lies still, whispering shadows tap into the granular of my soul. Tears are streaming as I reminisce of what once was.  I press my hands to my chest, imagining the blanketing comforts of solitude.  Then a sudden breeze brushing against my cheek and I sigh to an expected relief”.

Where I have been was a past of obscure abyss.  The minute covered glassy road wedged cuts deep beneath the superficial layers to my consciousness. It was a path that detoured from my hopes and aspirations, a road oppose to redemption; a blockage from love, and shackled from forgiveness

For years I wandered aimlessly, hoping to find a miracle. Yet, undiscovered truths were afar reaching from my destiny.  I couldn’t shower myself with motivation; it simply was not there.  I couldn’t believe in the possible because the impossible was all that I knew.  I couldn’t listen to that All Mighty gentle whisper because auditory silence of hopelessness had dominated my sense of self.  I couldn’t see what I needed to see because of an overwhelming insignificance. I thought I didn’t matter.

Then one day my spiritual consciousness had awaken from a slumber of years of confusion.  I vividly remembered the pious feeling I had when the blinders were removed from my eyes and it shouted, “YOU DO MATTER”.   

After seeing the true definition of life, I took one step back to an exact path.  Minuscule glass evaporated to an even road leading to redemption, love, and forgiveness. With the light shining that carried me, I finally believed I could achieve success. 

Today as I’m still walking the even road, my mind speaks to me as if it was a friend who stands tall by my side reminding me, all you need is faith.  The word itself may be a mere five letter word, but it’s powerful to take along with you to whatever endeavor you may try to pursue.

My Imani’s “How to” Moment, trust in all you can you do. Whether you want to return to school to get your degree or attain your high school diploma, write a book, or run for office, it is time to put YOU first.  It is time to listen to your heart that you’ve kept on mute for so long and make that step forward on your path, your dream, and your destiny.  If you fail, so what!  Get up and do it again.  Even if you made several attempts and its still not going your way, the fact is at least you tried and that’s all it matter.  Who want to grow old and think of what it could have been?  I know I don’t.

When you leave from this blog, the only thing I want you to remember within this text is you do matter.  I don’t think God would’ve taken his precious time to create you and call you junk.  Any proud creation you’ve made whether it’s cooking, handcrafts, or your children, do you call it or them junk?  Of course not! 

We’re not useless items; we’re all here for a special purpose.  So what’s yours?

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Who Is This Imani Wisdom, Anyway?


This blog is an absolutely, meaningless blog but an effective one to introduce who I am.

You may have been wondering what kind of name is Imani Wisdom.  Well, Imani is Swahili meaning faith.  After years of being on skid row, I feel enduring this writing career fits the name perfectly. 

As for my last name, I have to thank my ancestors.  Better yet thanking my ancestors’ slave owner for giving them the last name Wisdom.  It is written in black and white on my birth certificate with the State of Indiana’s seal of approval.  Despite at one time I hated the name.  In fact, I wanted a last name like Smith or Jones, but Wisdom?  I thought it was out of the ordinary, or rather strange.  And now, I’ve grown to appreciate my unique name. I’m going to wear it with honor along with Imani.  Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr’s quote is exactly the point as to why I’m adopting the partial pseudonym—faith is taking the first step even when you can't see the whole staircase. 

Taking these steps to see my dream come true as a published author is murky.  I don’t mean gloomy or depressing.  It’s a path of walking into the unknown.  Whether you’re traditional, self-published or have done both it’s scary to put your heart and soul of your creativity for the world to see.  Readers are finicky, and I’m one of them.  No one does not want their life’s work (or what I call my baby) gets critically shredded in pieces.  Then I realize I won’t learn anything about myself as a writer and a business woman. There’s all ways room for improvement. 

Now that I explained my name, I want to explain this blog’s content.  As a writer, I like to expand my boundaries outside my norm.  Sometimes I’ll write an empowering or inspirational blog to better ourselves, including me (remember room for improvement).  Other times, I’ll write what I do best and that’s write brief short stories.  These are the stories that won’t be published, but well enough to share with you.  Or, I may post my writing exercises, example Phase One: Inhibitions.

Finally, my blog feature Imani’s “How to” Moment.  You might be wondering how I got this idea and title.  Everyday, I’m either writing or researching on how to become a better writer.  One day as I was browsing through the internet reading blog after blog, I noticed the majority of these bloggers have some type of expertise in their field.  Giving the fact the only thing I know how is to do is to write, I chose  Imani’s “How to” Moment as a creative way of writing random things from my life to advise readers, I messed up with this or that so you don’t it—as Rupaul would say, don’t f**k it up!

If anyone is expecting me to write a blog on tips in writing, you’re at the wrong place. I feel what works for Tom, Dick, or Harry, may not work for you.  So for this one time, I’m going to write a common sense approach in writing. It’s something I’m still learning as a writer and an aspiring author.  Ready?

After writing countless hours on your manuscript, blogging your life away, researching, joining writing online groups, and networking with some of the best in the literary business, take what you learn from them and make the best of it.  If all goes wrong with your first book, pick yourself up and write another one.  Making mistakes is how you and I grow as writers. I can be the first one to tell you when my short story gets release on eBooks this summer; I’ll be petrified out of mind.  Yet I know it’s a way to get my name out there and for readers to get familiar with my work. 

So there you have it, a brief introduction of who I am and what’s this blog entails.  It’s a cross between anything from empowerment to erotica.  Some would call me a bipolar writer, others would say I’m unpredictable, either way, it won’t bother me. It is what it is.  I’m too wickedly sweet to let it faze me. 

Now I got writing to do, beautiful people. See you on the next blog—later.
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