IMANI'S BALLAD

Imagine this you, confessing an undying affection; testify your love; devoting your heart to your signficant other. In the title, instead of "Unique's Ballad", make it (e.g., Yalonda's Ballad).

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your my harmony
to a beautiul note
a tune that hums
softly into my soul

a crescendo escalade
into my heart
rising the scales of
passion
harmonizing subtly
sweetly
completely
into me

a ballad of desire
streaming closely
tightly against
my body
making love like a slow
song
picking up intensely
that last so long
making up musical
notes
as you go along
"ooooooh"
"eeeeeee"
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
sensually
passionately
sexy
to you

symphonize affection
hypnotize my direction
to my freedom
of being of woman

love me strong
hold me all night
long
connect with me until
sun rise
shimmering rays
kisses our naked
bodies
as we are one
loving all night and
waking up to the sun

composing our love
like a fine
musician
lyrically speaking
simply
truthfully
honestly
i love you....

until music
won't ever exist
i love you ....

more than an
ordinary kiss
i love you....

endlessly
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
time.
© Imani Wisdom..All Rights Are Reserved

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FACING MY SHATTERED PAST

Nearly 25 years ago, my innocence was shattered. As a 10-year-old, I was vibrant and full of spirit. I loved people and life itself. I remembered that I used to smile regardless of any occasion. Unfortunately, my smile and innocence were abruptly taken away by an uncle that I had trusted. Before he emotionally and physically hurt me, my uncle and I were close. I considered him my favorite uncle. But one day things changed horribly. It started from innocent hugs to something more inappropriate. I would never forget his icy cold hands and the stench of musty odor and whiskey on his breath.

Today as an adult, I've been painfully keeping these memories a secret. Since abusing me he has been incarcerated in a Tennessee prison for murdering his wife. Even before his incarceration, I hadn't seen my uncle in years. I knew I needed to face this painful reality. Nevertheless, in the summer of 2005, I had no choice but to face him again.

It was two years ago on a warm summer evening; my Grandmother received an upsetting phone call. I vividly remember the sadness she had on her face. She looked at me as she began to cry and said, "Unique, Arthur Lee has died". When she told me I felt nothing. There was neither pity nor tears; on the contrary, I felt rage and hatred, the same feelings I have been harboring for 23 years towards my uncle. Besides the negative resentment I had for my uncle, I felt sorrow for my grandmother because Arthur Lee was her baby brother. However, at that moment, I was beginning to remember those icy cold hands he had on me. But what was worse were his whispering disgusting moans he did in my ear while he enjoyed his perverted pleasures. Despite my feelings towards my uncle, I knew I needed to face my past. I decided to go to his funeral.

That weekend we arrived nearly 350 miles from Indianapolis to a small town called Pulaski, Tennessee. The following day, my family and I went to a small funeral home near the towns square. When I walked inside, it was a crowd of people standing around his casket. Out of respect, I went to hug his children in the front row. When the crowd slowly dispersed, I saw the man that I've loathed for 23 years. He was lying in his casket, wearing his Sundays best, looking as if he was asleep. I don't think I want to get any closer to view him, I thought. Then an older Aunt of mine, not realizing why I was trying to avoid seeing my uncle took my hand. "Gal, what you standing right here for?" she said in her southern accent," He wont bite. Gawn now!" So without explaining my secret, I walked up to the casket with my aunt. I didn't know whether to be relieved he was stone cold dead or pretend to mourn to please my unsuspecting relatives.

After the services began, there were a few speakers that had some nice sentiments for my uncle; obviously, I couldn't understand what was so great about him. I wanted to get up and shout to everyone that he was a disgusting deviant that prey upon young girls, but something kept me from doing that. An older cousin was singing Precious Lord, Take my Hand. During that time, I heard painful cries from grandmother and Arthur Lees children. It seemed I was the only one in the first few rows not showing any emotion. I was beginning to feel guilty and my emotions were a rollercoaster. Then suddenly, something I didn't expect happened.

The daughter of Arthur Lee's murder victim stood up and clapped. She was rejoicing his death by dancing. "Thank you, Jesus! Thank you, Jesus!" she shouted. Even though most people were trying to stay focused on the solo hymn by my cousin, the daughters claps echoed through the somber funeral home. When I looked back, I saw a shadow of a woman running towards the doors, but the sunlight was difficult to see her face. Then the claps and shouting grew faint: She had left.

At that moment, I realized something I've never thought before. When I was growing up, my grandmother had always told the power of forgiveness. You need to forgive others, otherwise God can not forgive you when you repent, shed said. As I recalled her words, I imagined my uncle dying in prison of a massive heart attack. He didn't have his loved ones at his side when he died. Even the prison didn't contact his family until a week after his death.

He made very costly and painful mistakes that hurt so many people, I thought, as the crowd went in order to view his body for the last time; I should forgive him, so I can go on with my life. When it came time for my row to view his Arthur Lee, I was a little apprehensive. However, when I approached his casket I whispered, "I forgive you, so cross-over in peace". Then my children and I walked out of the funeral home.

Since then, I have found peace and forgiveness towards Arthur Lee. I idolized as a child; then became my personal demon for 23 years. I did feel deep resentment toward him even in his death. Through his sickening pleasures, I lost the most precious commodity I had, which is trust.

To this day, it is hard for me to trust anyone. I have never been in a healthy relationship with a man. Although I've forgiving him, the memories still haunt me. I have been in counseling, and writing poetry; these have helped me through my most difficult times, but most of all, forgiving him was the best thing I've done.

Although I never reported him to the authorities, I always believed that what goes around comes around. Arthurs life led him from a pedophile to a murderer. He went from a man who had his freedom to man who was incarcerated in prison for life. I hope he found peace within himself, like I found within myself.

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CARAMELZED SWEETNESS

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 is 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 accustomed calluses of their hands they use to plow. From being banished from a pubic place to being spat on their smooth black face. Enduring vile treatment time after time and still pleasantly wore their old tired smiles, which gave me an unbreakable chain. Their spirit lives on through me, and that won’t ever, ever change…..

My caramelized sweetness is a GOD given gift, like anybody born with skin from the under rainbow. We shouldn’t tried to be tamed….shamed…and intimidated to believe we are special. Superiority is an iniquity of lies; a deception of a pathway that can lead to calamity of cries. Our tears cleanse deep down our souls. Let it rain; let it fall, as we are the brethren of a collection…..HIS image.

My caramelized sweetness is a lot more to the name. My smile is a forefront to my personality. My eyes are a window to a soulful wonderment. My heart can be a cage of sorrow or cheerfulness, and my soul be can a peaceful blissfulness. I know there one thing that’s true; me, myself, and I is no different than you!....Darkness uttered by lazed lips is vast misinterpretation, my caramelized sweetness is not an undesirable trepidation.

Peace be unto you…..




© Tamara “Unique”, 2009

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TRAPPED WITH MY EYES WIDE OPEN

Trapped in darkness with my eyes wide open
Feeling around like a lost little girl
in the vast, emptiness of this cruel world

Sadness is not defined by my blank stare
or the tears streaming down my face
staining my curly black hair
or the anxiety I feel in my heart
numbing paralysis
feeling like my soul is drifting apart

It’s an indescribable emotion
that some may not understand
They tell you to snap out of it
or just to bow your head with
praying hands

Unrealistic effortless emotion
is surreal is like a purple sun
Metastasize like a tumor
from your mind to your tongue

A whirlwind spinning out of control
falling rapidly in a deep black hole
You fight for every breath
even though your soul is alive
Suffocating intently
as you began to panic and cry

Wanting break free from this
Spiritual cancer
Shackling me down
where I can’t see the answer
Fearing of what lies ahead
through the darkness of
uncertainty
Needing to move on,
Needing to break free
Needing to once again to be
me

Trapped with my eyes wide open
Squirming away from the spiritual
adversary hold
Lingering for a new day
for this bruised and
tattered soul

Speculation is an old innovation
of trapped mines
Desolation is mere dust
envelop by the cruel hand
of time

My steps are as valiant
as lavender spring flowers
Revitalization is my essential
superpower

Sometimes the somberness
will always be apart me
Yet, the darkness….
will never, ever, defeat
me!

© Tamara Wisdom, 2010

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A CHANCE MEETING

THIS IS A POEM I WROTE A COUPLE OF YEARS AGO.

There was a little boy wearing his angelic wings.

He was roaming in heaven until he noticed a somberly something.

It was a black man sitting on heaven’s bench.

He had tears in eyes causing his face to drench.

The little boy noticed and asked as he wiped the man’s eye,

"What’s the matter?" And then the man sighed

And replies

"I don’t know if my dream will ever come alive"

Then the boy frowns and ask, "Why?"

The man look at the boy with his manicured moustache, and slowly

Wipes a tear his eyelash

"Don’t you see what went on earth since I died?

I thought my dream will blossom and thrive

Little black girls and boys and little white girls and boys had been learning

together

I know this had change the complexity of racial lines forever.

I also noticed that equality has progress in many aspects.

I have seen a rainbow people had learn to tolerate and respect.

I remember before ’68,

There were barely any black faces that had won political races.

Now it’s an overflow all over the United States.

They are on Congress, and Senators

They are Mayors, and Governors,

There’s a Secretary of State not only one but two".

Then he slightly chuckled and added, "Who ever knew?"

"More blacks are homeowners with an influx of revenues

And because of that, we were able to go to any college to expand what knew.

The little boy had continue to frown as he scratched his head

"These sounds like great things, so why are you crying?" he said.

The man glanced at the little boy with his bountiful cheeks.

He replied, "Son, my dream wasn’t just black and white.

My dream was a rich and colorful sight

And it was beyond just civil but a human right".

"Look" as he pointed below the clouds.

"Look at these people with a weakened disparages frowns.

It’s the poor all over the world.

And famine and war that deeply affects little boys and girls.

This beyond the USA.

This is happening all over world everyday.

And in Africa, the Motherland of Motherlands, it’s indescribable.

Folks don’t know it, but most Africans living conditions are incomparable.

And there are more wars and rumors of wars that threaten earth’s rotating globe.

One voice has to stand out, but I don’t think anybody knows

……how to establish their voices to be heard

I wish some activist would shy away from cameras and truly put people first.

As the boy intently listens he ask, "But isn’t black folks are better off than a long ago".

The man answered, "Oh yes, but they say more things change, the more that stay the same.

We had to overcome through treacherous mountaintops and through the rugged plains.

The black man on earth still gets has it hard that one virtually still remains.

But although there’s still that long dream road

I wish someone would voice this because this needs to be told.

We had past that mountaintop, but there are heavy terrains on the way.

Our people need to realize this today.

We can be detrimental to ourselves.

And my people need to pray".

Suddenly the man went silent, there was not another word to say.

Then the black man had got up from heaven’s bench still blue.

Then the angelic boy ask, "Mr, who are you?"

The black man had finally cracked an infectious smile.

The boy again said, "Mr, why don’t stay awhile?"

The man answered, "Son, I got go, I have already seen what I need to see.

And there’s a long way to go, and seeing it is too much for me.

The boy then grabs the man hand and asked, "Can you tell me your name, please?"

The man looked down at the boys eyes, and said, "Son, I’m King, Martin Luther King".

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