Showing posts with label The words. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The words. Show all posts

July 14, 2014

If you are still with me...

If you are still with me, I would like to say hello and I am sorry for being away for so long. I have been busy with school and working full-time as a preschool teacher. I have neglected this beautiful space, yet  I have missed it tremendously. Yes, life has kept me away. However, every now and then I do think about this blog and all my ramblings. Well, I think I may be back...

The truth is, up until recently, I have not written. Anything. And as a result, I have felt there was no purpose in blogging. I honestly tried, but everything I wrote seemed forced and disingenuous. I was uncomfortable with posting anything that did not feel real to me, as I take this space very seriously and I care greatly about the content I share on here. From my heart to this screen, my words are my weapon and my truest evidence of my mark in this word. So, what I write does matter.

As of late, however, I have been writing. In fact, I am currently working on a third collection of poetry. It is a small collection, but nonetheless, it is a collection and I am super excited about it! It has been over four years since I released my last collection, Northside Cries and Lullabies. And in those four years I have struggled creatively, going back and forth with my decisions to publish again or not. However, with a little encouragement from a friend, I decided it was time. This next collection, entitled Coming,  is way overdue!


Coming is a small, pocket poetry collection of short poems (or as I like to call them, "shorties".) The idea of writing a collection of short poems came from my love of short and simple poetry. I have always loved the idea of someone taking less than a minute out of their busy lives to appreciate a single piece of poetry. I do not believe poetry has to be long. So much can be said - so much can be felt in very few words. And to be frank, I have survived off of short poems in the duration of my four year hiatus. Writing short poems helped me stay creative without committing too much time. It was kinda like, you write a few lines, and then you carry on. 

And that is exactly what I have been doing - carrying on. And carrying all of my readers in my heart while I have been away. I do have lovely things planned for us in the next couple of months. 
Just wait on it, xoxo.

-nv

August 22, 2010

The Resistance

*Edited

There is a speck of false hope that lives in a single breath
It's addictive
It stretches and threatens to take
Remind the goddess...

You
can
resist.

On summer days
Imagine
the weight of the sun upon a certain skin
Breakdown
the many reasons why stargazing on the countryside makes sense
Far from the towers
Breathe
easy and get lost in the miles -
all twenty - two

The things daydreamed, love
are the things that waste the minutes
Yet they attempt to defy the substances that hold us down
Free thoughts can grow wings if willing
If resistance is shallow,
if we are not careful,
they can fly away

Today,
Sadness resides, but thanks is given
There is a force that tugs at the freedom
and grounds the spirit to the earth
Reasoning and resistance lies beneath
It's the reason why we say:
What goes up,
must come down

It's the resistance
It anchors
And like gravity,
All things will
come down.

May 22, 2010

In the Thick



In the Thick

Halfway never felt so good on this side of the bed…
And quiet are the secrets we recite to our walls each night
They land on petals upon my thighs
Your rosey lips could cure this madness
Absorb our screeching moans and oohs
Coming hard like a train…

And halfway never felt so good on this side of the bed.
Catching shadows on the ceiling,
I realize I can lie here
like the good lamb and give in.
I could grow tender - fall off my bones
and crawl onto your tongue…

Because halfway never felt this good on this side of the bed.
In the thick night,
you come to play the beast,
and in your slow purr
you whisper into my wet ear…

“What is it, Miss, that will take you away from me?”


Photography by pakpao on DeviantArt.com

April 26, 2010

She is the Way (a poem)

Yola! Been away for a while, but for good reasons. I have lots of updates to add on here very soon, but until then enjoy this new piece...



She is the Way

What does it mean today
when a woman can scrape off
your layers under harsh light and
bury your old skin in the backyard where the dogs cannot dig them back up?

What does it mean
when a woman removes the moon from between her legs
so a simple man could feel
stroke
and taste
the god that dwells inside of her?

Sometimes you forget
A woman can not only extend her hips,
But she can expand her mind and screams wide enough
to flare up a revolution within you
You forget that she is the way

She is
a beautifully made instrument
She is a vessel in which the best things travel through
A vessel of love
Carrying water
Harboring seeds, stories, and truth
With the ability to lift prayers too faint to reach heaven

She is grace
Every inch of hip, breast, arm, and belly
Every laugh line, wrinkle
Every broken heart, wet eye, drop of blood
was premeditated
and rightfully positioned
to preserve the truest combination of beauty and power in the universe.

She is the way
Follow
and love her…

Love her.

April 2, 2010

Nights when we knew...



Nights

What happened to those nights
of smeared lipstick
and wandering hands.

What happened to
white, wrinkled, linen sheets
and sweaty palms.

What happened to
passion at night
followed by pancakes in the morning.

What happened to
swollen lips
from kisses that vowed to never end.

Did they find a new home?


2007
From my first collection, I Know All The Right Things To Say.

March 23, 2010

Instarzz Feature

Shout out to Inkstarzz.com for featuring my poetry in their Writer's Corner!

Check it HERE, people!

Enjoy ;)

January 23, 2010

Afterthoughts After Loving

Hello friend.

It has been a while since I've posted any poetry on here. Muse was out on vacation somewhere, but I can feel it calling out my name again ;)

Hope you enjoy this shorty - Afterthoughts After Loving...


The morning after
is the darkest of them all
The coming of solitude
and swallowing the heavy hard lump of regret -

scratching the sides of my throat
as it makes its way down
where it will sit with me all afternoon...

until your next phone call.

In the mirror
I see you
in pieces still clinging to the corners of my mouth

D r y

this
is
the
start

of scraping off the afterthoughts.

November 14, 2009

Still crying for parts lost and long gone

When caught up in a good feeling, consequences are so far from our minds.

We take advantage of the sensation - licking it clean and taking whatever we can from it. Some of us know a good thing doesn't linger for long so the intake is always fast and dramatic, but satisfying. And for some of us the consumption is smoother, longer, but we barely survive the withdrawal period when it goes away. And then, when that good old feeling comes around again, we fall into our old habits. Do we ever learn?

My point: There are consequences to everything, even if its good.

If we consume too much of something that is good, we leave no space for the things that are bad. The potential for growth, improvement - the lessons learned - become the last drops at the bottom of the cup. Suddenly, at the end we see it all.

And now.....a poem.


still crying for parts lost and long gone
still mourning us
in the opening

we swallowed the splendor
opened wide while
it's juices trickled
dangerously
down the sides of our cheeks
we laughed

we were so thirsty darling
we were a bad combination

we were

untamed
starved
lonely and aching.

November 11, 2009

October's Baby (A Short Story)

I sat in the bathroom counting down the months with my fingers. February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September…October. October!

“Aw honey, she’ll be here in October!” I yelled out to Jonathon while walking into the bedroom.

There he was, my husband of five wonderful years, sitting at the edge of the bed. He did this every morning before heading to his job over at the hospital. I noticed a change in Jonathon’s behavior three weeks ago when I told him I was pregnant. Ever since he has been somewhat distant - always in his head. One morning I asked him what he was doing sitting there looking into space, and he said “Nothing. Just thinking”.

I jumped back under the warm covers and made myself comfortable next to him.

“I’m due in October! That means we could have conceived on our Valentine’s Day getaway or the night you made that beautiful dinner”.

I chuckled, “Or the weekend we were at your parent’s house…”

September 29, 2009

Glossy (Spoken)

Insomnia + audacity + microphone + lil ol' me = Another attempt at Spoken Word (Glossy).

I'm trying to get more comfortable with reading my stuff. I don't consider myself a spoken word artist at all - I'm more of a paper poet, but once in a while I like to experiment and try something different.

And theres nothing wrong with that...

Ps: If you want to hear more, Click Here for my ReverbNation Page!


Glossy

Saturday nights spread thickly
like lip gloss
A sheer, pink shade that shimmers
beneath the lights
sending a violent heat wave
across the bar
when
trouble walked in with
boots
knee-high
and full lashes

all
eyes
on...

her.

She
made us stop
and take notice
She
made me wish...

wish my breast could know the sun
the same way this girl
knows danger -
the way she plays with fire
Igniting flames in the snugged parts of each man she passes
Inhaling the howls
and sipping on the heavy pants
sloppy
wet

glossy

I watch the
spectacle from afar
soaking in my own
mire of insecurities and
wondering

How much that kind of freedom would cost...

On any given rainy day,
how many pennies would I have to save
to buy that kind of power
with legs closed?

September 14, 2009

9 Days of Rain

It once rained for nine days straight here in Philly...



9 Days of Rain

It was suppose to be a red
and dry season
But it rained for nine days straight this month.

Her cries were
tears over the ocean -
They did not matter to him.

And she still believes them when
they say they can make her forget.
The two things she fears more than God are

empty bedrooms
and the slow movement of a single breath.
Why stop here when there is so much love in the world?

She can never let go
With a sweaty grip
She still holds tight

The last time she tried to say goodbye
She promised herself
that the next one would love her better and wetter...

better
and
wetter.

September 12, 2009

Sweet Tea

There was no real inspiration behind this one except that I love sweet tea. This poem was just for fun.

Ps: Sweet tea and love go together like summer and the city.




Sweet Tea

My lover from the northside
has gone to pick me flowers from my neighbor's garden
My honey boy, sticky and fresh
tangerine lips
How can I forget?
A smile that I feel somewhere deep
tickles my feet
Lost in his eyes
open spaces
where my heart is free to fly,

my lover from the northside...

made me breakfast while I was still in bed
Eggs, toast with jelly
and a nice hot cup of tea
'Extra sugar, please!'
Sipped his love slowly
Like the hymns of the pigeons outside
Momma said he seems like a good guy
And his hands never do lie,

my lover from the northside...

isn't as tough as he appears
Not stone-cold, grim
Yes, the boy loves his Tims
but when the boots come off -
under my bed
He is the perfect shade of red
Passionate and gentle at the same time
I'm a mosquito
and his sweet blood makes my tongue cry,

my lover from the northside -

his love spreads far
from here to Crooklyn
Feels like warm milk spilling in
He carries this poem in his back pocket
Understands the similes and metaphors -
says 'baby, I got it'
And on Sundays we lay
while the city's melody plays
Are those fireworks I hear
or bombs coming down?
It doesn't matter
Its calm in here

for now.

September 9, 2009

Glossy

For freedom, and for the glamorous life...



Glossy

Saturday nights spread thickly
like lip gloss
A sheer, pink shade that shimmers
beneath the lights
sending a violent heat wave
across the bar
when
trouble walked in with
boots
knee-high
and full lashes

all
eyes
on...

her.

She
made us stop
and take notice
She
made me wish...

wish my breast could know the sun
the same way this girl
knows danger -
the way she plays with fire
Igniting flames in the snugged parts of each man she passes
Inhaling the howls
and sipping on the heavy pants
sloppy
wet

glossy

I watch the
spectacle from afar
soaking in my own
mire of insecurities and
wondering

How much that kind of freedom would cost...

On any given rainy day,
how many pennies would I have to save
to buy that kind of power
with legs closed?

September 8, 2009

The Suffering

This one started with a thought ('a woman swollen with love poems') and flourished from there...



The Suffering

The night is deep and wide -
An artery
Pulled and bleeding

Tonight is a dirty mirror
and he is a man
staring into the face of someone who
once loved a woman
swollen with love poems

She was a damsel - in wreck
And he wore armor for just one night

After the fire
He was no hero
Just dessert
Merely a line in one of her poems
blood on her teeth

He did not put up a fight
welcomed the suffering

At daybreak,
she grew wings
and left
But not empty-handed

She took a rib.

August 30, 2009

This Is Meant To Be Spoken

I did a little late night experimenting with the prose poem...


This Is Meant To Be Spoken
A Prose Poem

And this is meant to be spoken.
I heard a song today that asked why love sometimes feels like a battlefield. A battered land of warriors, holding their lover's heart in their bare hands. Savages. But you - you are a poet. Whether you feel it or not, your heart shelters a beast - sleepy and collective now, but fierce and resilient when awaken. Like I always say: When in Love or in Lust, we are simply animals. Nearly civilized. The body always wants what it cannot hold. And I don't know if you understand what I'm saying. This is meant to be spoken. This is meant to meet you halfway. To hold you. Calm the belly of the beast and tell you that I'm still here. Living. Ready and scared, but eager. Not like a warrior. Like a poet. My offering is rich and only comes in one flavor. My breast and hips are ripe. Warm sweet milk for tiny mouths. But I am getting ahead of myself now. Do you understand? This is meant to be spoken. Yesterday, I confessed my secrets to an old man in a cardboard box as he chanted aloud "A CHANGE IS COMIN' ON....OH CHANGE, COME ON"! And you probably won't believe me when I say this, but I believe him. These leaves will rust come September. And though I like to think that it is deeper than autumn leaves, you've failed to paint me a different picture. I want to see you, one morning, as you embrace the new sky and expand the edges, spreading them wide and thin. And at that very moment I will pray that no one ever takes it away - your live and smiling spirit. Understand? I don't want to wake up early another morning and yearn the warm sighs of possibilities on my neck. I like to sit on the edge - simmering in the palm of Love waiting to be swallowed. I apologize if I lost you. I just want you to know that you don't have me fooled. Under your skin, tucked away is the truth. Rotting words that have lived for ages - passed down to you from generations before your time like an unwanted piece of furniture. A burden. And those words have learned to settle, comfortably, in the center of who you are - just waiting. Waiting for a lady, a poet like me, to come and stir them into a boiling soup. Sip slow, love. We are beautiful.
This is beautiful.

2009

Click here for more info on a prose poem!

July 20, 2009

Time is Dead (a shorty)

Submitted this for Saturday Shorts over at the Flexwriter's Cafe. I was inspired by the photo below...




Time is Dead

Yesterday's prayers wither like the hours
The hands fading out the crescendo of hope -
a young girl playing dress up,
first day of school - seeds in soil
Today is new,
but it is stiff and numb

Caught in the grit of January
and sorely wanting April.

July 16, 2009

...to fill the spaces

This is a true story...Hope my mom doesn't find this and reads it or I will have a lot of explaining to do...Lol!

The first time we kissed was on the 4th of July, summer of 2002. We were in my mother’s house after we spent the whole day under the sun on Philip Street. The day was done, but the heat lingered into the night.

We sat in the living room, and it was so hot our legs created little puddle on the plastic couch covering. We told each other jokes and listened to the radio – “Why Don’t We Fall In Love” by Amerie, “Dilemma” by Nelly and Kelly Rowland, and of course your favorite song at the time, “Nothin” by N.O.R.E.. These are the songs that are forever seared in my memory - the soundtrack to that summer night. We were surprisingly quiet; trying not to wake up my mother and step-father. Mom didn’t care that you were in the house as long as you left at a “reasonable time” and was conscious of the noise level. She always told me, “Vanessa, he is a nice boy, but he is just too loud!”

On the plastic couch, you pulled my face into the table lamp light and discovered two new freckles on my face – one below my left eye, and another on my nose. You named them Sookie and Moe. We raced each other’s tan lines. Your skin was warm and had turned a color that at the time reminded me of the shade of golden leaves that turned in the fall. During the hot months, I always miss the cold hold of the northside winds – I was always ready to bid summer goodbye, but not that night. That night I was grateful to the sun – thankful for the warmth.

It was almost midnight when you said you had to leave - you didn’t want to worry your grandma (you lived with her since you were a little boy and your parents were basically out of the picture). With each passing minute and attempts to cut the conversation, it was obvious neither of us wanted the night to end. It was as if we were waiting for something to ignite the perfect ending. We were waiting for something – a rush. And I felt it first. As you were rising from couch I could feel it boil in my head and then my arms. I let it build up until I finally pulled you down by the arm and kissed you (with tongue). I felt my lips tingle as every nerve in my body jolted. It didn’t feel real. Outside, people were lighting up the last of their fireworks and cherry bombs, but I didn’t hear a thing.


I laid in bed that night replaying the day in my head – getting wet in the fire hydrant, the sunburns, the kiss. I relived the entire day until I fell asleep.

Later that night I woke up to a noise against my window. I moved the fan and there you were in yesterday’s clothes, standing in the alley way. You were trying to tell me something but the neighbor’s dogs were barking so wildly that I could not hear. So I told you to meet me on my porch and I went down stairs. You told me your grandma locked the door and you didn’t have your keys with you. You said that you were walking around the neighborhood ever since you left my house. Without hesitating, I invited you to stay the night. We quietly walked upstairs to my bedroom. While passing my mother’s room I realized how much trouble I would be in by bringing a boy into my bedroom. Yes, I was 17 years old going on 18 in August, but I was also the only girl in the family - my mother and older brothers were strict and protective of me. I didn't let it worry me. We walked into my room and I locked the door so my mother couldn’t walk in before leaving to work in the morning. Before I even attempted to make a bed for you on the floor, you had already made yourself comfortable on my bed. You had the biggest smile on your face as you threw my stuffed pig, Diggie, into the air. You won it for me from the claw machine at the corner bodega a couple weeks ago. You laid back on my pillows and kicked your sneakers off at the edge of the bed. I sat next you. I didn’t think it was possible to feel so inhibited in my own room – you were the first boy to ever step foot in my space - my sanctuary. You looked at me with tired eyes. I laid next to you. You didn’t know, but every inch of my body wanted you that night. However, I was a virgin and you were a gentleman. As much as I wanted you to be the one to show me - to fill the spaces where no other has been, I knew it wasn’t the right time. We fell asleep soon after hitting the bed. You slept with one arm over me and your chest pressed against my back where I had sunburn. Still, it didn’t bother me. For some reason the pain felt good.


You left in the morning before anyone got up. We kissed for the second time and made plans to hang out later that day. I stood on the stoop as I watched you walk down the block.

You looked back at me with a smile, and turned the corner.

June 3, 2009

I Am Venus

This poem you are about to read is one of just a few sensual pieces that I'm publishing in my next poetry collection, Northside Cries & Lullabies. I'm working my booty off trying to release it this Summer folks! I'm hella excited!!!

Anyways...enjoy!



I Am Venus

Mouth against heart,
against hips
We are parallel,
One
as your lips absorb the taste of my fever.

Eager hands journey south
to the knees.
North, to the thighs,
Inside.

I am Venus
And you, sir

You are divinity.



Photo by NV Torres

May 8, 2009

First!


Hi World!
Yea, so this is my very first blog on here so I thought I would get down to business and pop this thing off with a little poetry, yes?

This is a poem I wrote a few days ago...along with a dope photo I found online.

So enjoy and thanks for reading :)
peace.



I-76

It's a long ride back to Philly
and we have not said a single word to each other.
You drive on
while I sit in the passenger seat
staring out the window trying
to avoid the sight of your face.
I can feel you looking over at me.
It's a long ride back.

The highway is empty at 4 in the morning
My mind and eyes are heavy
And you -
You continue to drive.

I look over to your window.
From a distance
I can see the Roxborough Tower Farm.
I remember us
driving down this same road one night and asking you,
"Baby, what are those?"
as I pointed to the sea of blinking red lights.
You told me that they were signal towers for tv and radio.
And I remember how I attempted to
etch into my memory the
beautiful side view of you
driving into the night with those
lights shining like stars in the background.

Now here we are again,
driving by.

For a moment I suspect that this
will be the last time I ever see this sight again -
You and
those fucking towers...

and I know I am right.
This will be the last time.