The Elders

My Elders on my mother side were very close kin.
Close enough for me to write this poem about them.
As a child we gathered for all types of occasions.

Aunt Bertha was the eldest, she would shush us to go away.
she’d shout, “go sit down yonder,” was her favorite phase.
Off my sister, Karen and I would go into the den.

We were waiting for that Sunday dinner with all the great recipes,
There was speckled butter beans, roast and a pie that made my eyes glow.

My grandma usually made a homemade coconut cake that was the talk of the town.
When those sister sang in the choir at Wadsworth, Church of God. Heaven came down.
I look at pictures of the family that I never seen before, I remember them talking about.
There grandma Nin.

I have one picture of grandma Nin, papa Wm Bryant’s mother.
She was born in 1855 form South Carolina, on into Mississippi, by covered wagon.
That’s where the first seven or eight children were born.

Now, that I am older. I am the elder and I gather with the elders.
We worship together and create our community’s haven.
We must affirm our heritage and edify our people.

We have come a long way, but have so far to grow and go.
That’s ok because instilled in me is a faith that I must follow.
Amira Baraka, bids us to come, men women, child.

The elders always sit in a special seat.
They gave permission for us to speak.
I understand the importance of carrying on our traditions.

The Sound of Amusement

Facial expressions are contagious.
The chuckle of his amusing grim was music to my ears.
It was deep and robust.

Uncle Johnny said few word, but when he was happy his facial hair
stood on end with a twisted smile with a twinkle in his eye.

He was very kind to my family, my aunt was his wife.
I named my child after her, good godparent elated about the baby.

Amusing gestures would fill the atmosphere at their dining room table.
Now that they’re my ancestors; I chuckle when I think about their southern draw.

How they ask, “how you doing…?”
My aunt Bee was the silent one, but oh she could pray.
I listened at her as she laid across her bed.

The call was clear to Jesus she would pray.
I felt good, secure, safe to know angels from Heaven was on their.

The happy faces of my clan, gave me a foundation that sustains my pursuit of happiness.
Grandma Katie’s brothers and sisters are the rock on which my liberty stands,
I won’t tolerate white folks taking my vote from me. I can’t be sure Grandma ever got the chance.


Juliette was without her Romeo
She lived in the deep blue sea.
Juliette was a squeamish whale would didn’t like shrimp.

She a dreamed one day of walking on land.
Her qualms about being a sea monster did not fit her pedigree.
Juliette longed for the day the she could feel the earth beneath her feet.

Expected to eat the fisherman on boats she would met.
Teased by her whale companions for avoiding blood and gore.
No way she would swallow Jonah like her ancestors before.

Juliette without her Romeo could not wish upon a star.
Everywhere that plankton went Juliette was sure to go.
Other species like Juliette made her feel ashamed.

They laughed and snarled at the cowardly whale for acting like a scarecrow.
Then one day her wish came true when a prince that she knew fell onto the oceans floor.
Juliette recued him ana brought him back safely to the shore.

In return the prince thanked Juliette and kiss her on her nose.
Amazingly, what she had been was never to be no more.
Suddenly, Juliette became the women she wanted to be.

Her tail grew into legs, She was able to join the prince
At the palace where her story was written by the scribe.
Juliette was no longer the Squamish man eating whale never again took a dive.

I am enjoying writing my poetry.

It’s been a while since writing poetry. Oh when we were sheltered in place. I wrote almost everyday.
Now, I got things to do people to see and places to go. So, when I became aware of the poetry marathon. I challenged myself to sit for a full 12 hours and write poetry. I thought it was going to tougher then it actually turned out to be. I think my muse showed up and showed out. I was challenged to use my imagination. Be a wordsmith and articulate my thoughts down on paper to the best of my ability. I am concluding my 12 hour odyssey with two more poems and I feel very accomplished and motivated to “KEEP WRTING! I usually like to write long hand it feels faster to me. However, after typing my poems into the software. I will be creating on my desk top from now on unless my word come in my head while I am sleeping like the like to do somethings. They can be so unrulily at time. LOL I will be promoting this event in other workshops for next year. Everyone stay happy and bless in the coming new year for us poets.

Corn bread and Collar Greens

Corn bread and Collar greens bring back childhood memories.
My momma in the kitchen cooking red beans, beef neck bones and rice.

There was a special corn bread pan that momma would use.
It looked like ears of corn and was as heavy as a cast iron skillet.
The greens were baptized until the water was clear.

The smell of corn bread and collar greens meant love is in the air.
A pressure cooker was my momma’s favorite pot for beans.

Baked yams or sweet potatoes were hot on the scene.
The fried chicken make you scream, Hallelujah.

I never knew hunger as a kid; my aunties and uncle always kept a family fed.
Corn bread and Collar greens bring back childhood memories.

The smell of corn bread and collar greens meant love is in the air.
Grandma stirring those cakes making that meringue from scratch.
Over a double boiler kept all her clients coming back.

Corn beard means stability no matter what else you have corn bread completed the meal;
You can tell my people from the south, put a little Arkansan and Mississippi in them collard greens,

Game People Play-revise

It was a song; I sung when I was growing up.
“Games people play right wrong, they just…keep you feeling blue.”

Little did I know life for me would be like a game of chess.
I started out as a pond with some power.
It was tricky though because my moves were limited.

“People make the world go ’round” with the games they play.”
Life is like a game for me, it’ about me winning.

There are plenty of metaphors in the lyrics we chose;
lyrics are like directions in a recipe for a cake.

The game is not to become unglued by being halved baked.
It was a song; I sung when I was growing up.

“People make the world go ’round” with the games that they play.
I rose to a position like the bishop on the chess board.
I had more maneuvering power to capture my enemies’ devices.

I learned my worth-play to keep-play to win.
I move like a queen overpowering obstacle is part of the perks.

Always need my friends

I will always need my friends.
Community, unity, diversity
These are ingredients for wholeness in life.
Community is the glue of our crafts of togetherness.
It holds us accountable for our behavior when no-one’s looking.

Showing up for your life means you support the festivities.
Be there for someone else besides always trying to do your thang.
I love being with my people our diversity in talents and gifts bring
the laughter and fun.

These are my peeps we make great music.
It of us have a part to sing remembering to stay in our own lane.
Celebrating someone else mild stone is the backbone of unity.

“Calling all black people come on in Black people.”
I hear the call by showing up for the party. 🙂
However, I love when people are excited to see me coming.

When are having a good time telling fables in rhymes.
Gas prices are high, but so is the thrill of being among friends.
Community will keep you sane when things in solitude are not going your way.

Dear Mimi’s Elegy

Dear MarianMonique LeVertaDeniece, (Mimi)

I said goodbye to you years ago, but today, I found a need to say hello. Today humanity is living in a pandemic. I know you never heard of it. I wanted to tell you how much I missed you before I closed the door. I think about you, you’ve gone away, forever. Your presence exists in mementoes. Pictures I display of us with grandma Jacqui on the shelf. It gives me comfort and reassurance when I feel gloom. Ahh, things I would utter if you were here, my dear. We would catch a movie, a bite to eat as we did, not to long ago. Death brings comments like, “I don’t know how you do it… I would lose my mind if I lost my child.”  I hear your voice, “keep it together mom.” “Take care of your mental health, mom.”  I do aqua aerobics, piano and voice lessons, write poetry, work my businesses. How about that Mooca. 🙂 There is no substitute for your presence. I accept that you are in your eternal rest. Memories linger like the indigo sky. I remember your cuddles and baby coos, you growing as a teen. The mother you became elevated yourself esteem. Oh, Mimi, it thrills me to write this love letter. You won’t know it, but it’s the legacy to our future generations. They will know you were loved by your mommy, son, and everyone. Brandon, your man child is almost 26 yrs. old. He is doing well by not living in hell.  He has a longtime girlfriend. Growing pangs for him are no stranger. His loss of you, his mom is heavy rain on his beating heart. The sunset over your life came way too soon. In our hearts you’ll find no gloom. On Heavenly shores with Jesus is how we’ll meet. Rest in His blossom. angels were there when you transitioned into you forever destiny, courage and faith were the templates for your life. There have been many changes in the family, humanity and friends. The Supreme Court reversed Roe vs. Wade a dreadful decision was made. Then it’s the President #45 that brought the nation shame. Idiot rioters stormed the Capitol and killed a woman and policeman.  President Joe Biden, Jill Biden and Kamala Harris, Hallelujah for respectful leadership. Juneteenth is now a national holiday, where I promise to celebrate, commemorate and contemplate victory in this land.  I will write, sing and vote for justice. Sleep in peace my beautiful daughter. Peace comes with a price that our veteran family paid. Thank you for being a wonderful daughter, while mommy was in the military. I intend to make my mark on God’s green earth. As woman of passion, persistence and patience your legacy is remarkable, commendable and admirable. I will tell the world about you.

Love forever, Peace through Justice.

Mom, D. “Ashay” Mathieu



Window to Another Dimension, Sonnet ( ekphrastic)

Window to another dimension thrills my earthly soul.
Window high enough to see my destiny into space.
Elements of earthly structures covered with lacey vines.
Eyes see into the future–escapes realities view.
Newness of perspective carries pastels blue and white hue.
It’s a picture of perfection, a panoramic view.
Anticipation something can be beyond the window.
Waiting, my life is waiting for the next scene to come through.
Tell me there is laugher in the pane from heartache and shame.
Window to another dimension satisfices my soul.
Heavenly beams upon earth perhaps my celestials goal.
Built in a wall, my gaze is from outside as glory rides.
I will go around, through, and over to the other side.
Life is like a window it lets in the air and sunshine.