"Poet draws on music, ancestry and desert" by Donna Snyder

Read Donna Snyder's article on Lawrence Welsh in The El Paso Times.

Mantras and Cookie Soup - personal blog

Come by and check it out!

Be free,

have fun,

feel joy!!

See What's new this weekend!

Chevalterre Returns to Tumblewords via Karma

Notes from the Yellow Composition Book:

Tumblewords Project - Saturday, 7 February, 2009

Presenter: Nancy Green

"African Voices"

'Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach." - Phyllis Wheatley

About Nancy: - Mexican woman of African descent -- Originally from Juarez and El Paso, later from Massecheusetts.

About Phyllis Wheatley: - born in Gambia. At age 7 became a slave. She's the first African writer. Purchased by the Boston Tea family... they taught her to read and write.

** Later, during the workshop, Nancy shares about Langston Hughes: - His father moved to Mexico city... He wrote "The Negro Speaks of Rivers"

She even mentions Ahmed Sekou Toure (Guinea, 1922-1984)

From this, two poems have been written:

"Morenitos Are the Brothers" - prose, short story. - (1999 - 2001 Memoir)
My brothers, they were
all from the Deck department
of the United States Navy ship.

With a couple of sisters too.

We became quite a diverse family
in the last two years of the last millenium.

In all shades of skin color,
we matched in uniform.
Working under one Nation.

At least three languages we shared.
And translated for one another.

Different forms of racism
we experienced in Polynesian islands.
They, the darker ones laughed
because I worried.
- Antonio Cummings explained:
"WE have to deal with it. It's okay."
-- On occasion Sean Skeritt repeated:
"Worry about yourself, shipmate."
- Our youngest friend, would distract
each one of us...
making us laugh, to have a good time.
He, Stephen Wright...
who stepped in, one September morning
As we departed a Korean port
lost his legs and fingers.
But our other hero, Mr. Johnson
- the officer in freckles
and bright red hair "pelirojo",
lost a leg too
trying to help Stephen.

Our spontaniety died, but not our love.

We connect, and talk through
Yahoo, Myspace, Facebook...
searching for one and then the next.

Still searching for Wright or Johnson...

The darker ones, as I called - referring to
half the department, were not called
anything other than "el morenito" and
their family name.

" Two Little Girls on the Schoolbus." (A 1985 memoir)
Little girl,
why do you sit alone?
In the back of the bus
with your ashy legs
blocking others from sitting.

I want to sit next to you
and be your friend.
But your vibeis unfriendly.
Why should I bother?

One day our bus is packed
and your seat is the only one
with space for me.

I ask you to move your feet
I don't want to push you.
But mostly I don't want
the dirt from your shoes
on my "pompis".

Coarse is your hair, but I like it
because we both wear braids.

You sit there,
with your cheek almost stuck to the window.
And I secretly wonder about
the scent from your skin.

We could be friends or something.
But whatever your problem is, I don't know.
Cannot understand.

I tire from it...
bringing myself to honesty
telling you,
"I don't like you."

Your reply,
"I don't like you either."

I felt content...
because you finally spoke to me.

-------------------------

Some things that came up in conversation:

"Sacred Snacks" (thank you Donna Snyder and Gene Keller for the jokes)

The sacred confections
of Latin-America

one made with cacao
the other with corn

they are:
Cho-co-lah-teh
and
tostadas.

And wouldn't ya know?

Doritos
have chocolate as an ingredient!

------------------------------------

Thanks Cheval for helping me express this story and thought - it came up while meeting another musician last night at the World Music Tea DANCE PARTY - put together by the DJ HYPOCRITE ORCHESTRA - It was quite magical...

As I prance
on by...
I come to ask you:
"By any chance,
do you dance?"

... He then looked me
straight in the eye,
and answered:
"Yes!"

So I thank you (Ryan) for the dance.

-----> See you guys at Tuesday's rehearsal!

Monthly Art Parties - inviting all poets

This event repeats each Third Saturday of the month,
register the latest, one week prior to the date of the event:
kool_artist@juno.com , (915) 355-0000 (texting ok)

A huge thanks to Nancy Green for her piece titled "Queer",
And her shout out, "It's about time this happened", in reference to the party.

People want it, IT IS HERE!!

Dark Times

Astride a moonlight-colored horse,
naked and pale, our manes a near match,
I hold a load of stones against my chest.
Each one is my favorite.

The prickling of my mount’s milky coat
against my thighs
makes me remember, and I remember
unashamed
why I’m not liked by everyone.

I’ve been the baby crying
knives in my mother’s ears.
I’ve been the whining child
in the backseat.
I’ve been the teenager obsessed
with my own confusion.
I’ve been the young wife and mother
feasting on melancholy.
I’ve been the divorcee flinging
frenzied decompression.
I’ve been the thoughtless bitch,
the manipulative drama queen,
the woman who talks too much,
the employee who fails to pull her weight,
the judgmental fraud,
the hollow-eyed frost princess.
I’ve been that one
and that one and
that one.

Now my hips follow the rolling sway
of my horse’s gentle gait and I’m feeling
each stone’s shape against my ribs.

In being all the things I’ve been
to lose the love I’ve lost, I’ve collected
the knowledge of “why” – my precious
stones – to embrace, to turn over
in my hand, to hold up to the light, to
drop one-by-one, even as I gather
more.

My patient silvered steed
stands by, huge hooves planted
in the dust of my days, and for
every stone I do not throw, I might
be loved again…or not.

So I ride exposed and magnificent
in my acceptance.

(c) 2008 Monica Gomez

Submission Deadline Extended til Jan. 6, 2009

There is still time! Submit your poetry, prose, art & photography to twproject@ymail.com.

Merry Christmas!