I Once Painted A Canvas With A Boy We Made Art Together That Boy Was Not Nice One Day I Punched
I once painted a canvas with a boy We made art together That boy was not nice One day I punched a hole through the canvas He apologized and I forgave him I picked up the pieces to the canvas I destroyed I taped it together I stapled It was something new Later on this boy popped up Well he didn’t pop up I messaged him And he kept responding I guess Secretly he did as I hoped So I forgave him again And thought to make the art we made And I destroyed Into something even newer I took the canvas And let the pieces that fell apart I took some photos That I destroyed and reassembled (Clearly this dude made me crazy) And let those pieces fall apart I put them all together on a new canvas Something to commemorate the journey And still acknowledge that it was a journey This boy finally admitted He was not just a boy He was not nice He was A boy who didn’t belong in my life I took the canvas apart once again I took off the old torn painting I took off the reassembled torn pictures I took off the little Knick Knacks I added along the way I torn it all apart and was left With a blank canvas I replaced that blank canvas with a work of art With a person Who I think is myself If not me entirely Then a little bit of me I took that blank canvas and filled it I filled it with me My heart My feelings I put the thing in the space that should’ve taken up that actual space in the beginning I filled the blank canvas with love With admiration I filled it with a face A face I did not pay attention to A face I should’ve looked at more A face I saw A face I now see I think Maybe I’m projecting Maybe I’m interpreting my own art wrong But this is how it made me feel. 🖤✌🏾
More Posts from Nova-rose-greene and Others
one day we’ll look at the stars and see ourselves reflected in them in all our imposing, incredible presence ✨
The freedom of speech being taken away by an official member of the government
For the white person who wants to know how to be my friend
by Pat Parker
The first thing you do is to forget that i’m Black.
Second, you must never forget that i’m Black.
You should be able to dig Aretha,
but don’t play her every time i come over.
And if you decide to play Beethoven – don’t tell me
his life story. They made us take music appreciation too.
Eat soul food if you like it,
but don’t expect me to locate your restaurants
or cook it for you.
And if some Black person insults you,
mugs you, rapes your sister, rapes you,
rips your house, or is just being an ass –
please, do not apologize to me
for wanting to do them bodily harm.
It makes me wonder if you’re foolish.
And even if you really believe Blacks are better lovers than
whites – don’t tell me. I start thinking of charging stud fees.
In other words – if you really want to be my friend – don’t
make a labor of it. I’m lazy.
Remember. 🤨🤨🖤🖤
For the entire month of April aka Black Women’s Poetry and Prose month. I’m sharing the work of women who have healed my heart, nurtured my mind and fed my spirit with their words. I have to admit that even as a voracious reader it took me a minute to understand and feel the purpose and passion of poetry. Often I found it confusing and underwhelming. I wanted characters, story, plot, but then I dug deeper and read more and more, I learned to treasure it for the art that it is, poetry is a moment in time, it’s a feeling, a mood, it’s deep, it’s playful, it’s memoir and commentary, it’s so many things at once, it’s patois, creole, slang, it’s protest, its prayer, it’s soul, it is NOT a luxury, there are no rules, it’s an excellent vehicle of expressing a singular idea, a method for causing controversy and tectonic shifts, it’s slick talking goodness and Black women reign supreme.
More to come…….
There they go again 🖤✌🏾
Some days it’s hard to pull yourself out of hole you didn’t realized you dug for yourself.
Some days it’s hard to breathe
Some days it’s just hard
But
Some days it’s worth it
Some days you won’t cry
Some days you realize your worth.
Some days you see yourself shining through.
Some days you can grab your own hand and pull yourself out of your own hole.
Either way it’s okay
It can and will be okay
Each day is a new day
Each day is still a blessing
I can’t tell how I feel about this. But the editing has convinced me it’s worth the share
I hate the internet. 🤦🏽🤦🏽🤦🏽🤦🏽
Treat everyone you meet as if they are god in drag
Ram Dass
Coming soon
