Monday, November 29, 2010

Writer's Block?! No!

I'm writing papers, finishing applications and I have three more weeks of school left before Christmas break. I'm really going to miss everybody, but its only for three weeks. And its in New York :-) 
This has been a great semester, probably my best so far. Stress-free and so excited about life its ridiculous. God really is like the center of all joy. I pray that everyone reading this gets to experience Him in a deep way. 


I have some quotes from three poems I loved this month, but before that I had an interesting dream last night that I want to share with the world!



-|-|- I was a school teacher in her early 30s in a school in the 60s. I had a cute little afro and after class one day a lady came to me and asked me to cut it off. I was kind of shocked (at the dream) because its not like the civil rights movement has been on my mind lately or anything. But yeah, this white lady marched into my classroom and touched my hair, then said "she has this black grass on her head". I didn't say anything to her. But then she suddenly looked shocked because as she took her hands out it grew longer. Then she got really upset, she goes "she's growing this black grass around here". I guess somehow my afro was causing trouble or something. I'm sitting there looking at her like what is going on, but I'm guessing because of the times we were in I had to be quiet and let her ruin my hair. I remember fuming as I stared at her. Then she screams in my face that I am sentenced to be whipped a million times because of my hair. I woke up after that. -|-|-

I think I might start to write something based on that, it was the strangest dream I've had that I can remember for a while. Now I feel some sort of responsibility to go natural ha, wonder how long that will last...


- - - The Poetry Quotes:


Earth's honeyed milk, wine of the only rib. 
Now roll your tongue in honey till your cheeks are
Swarming honeycombs-your world needs sweetening, child.
(from Dedication by Wole Soyinka)



Eng. Lit., my sister, 
was more than a cruel joke -
it was the heart
of alien conquest. 
How could questions be asked
at Makerere and Ibadan,
Dakar and Fort Hare - 
with Jane Austen
at the centre?
How could they be answered?
(from The Stranglehold of English Lit by Felix Mnthali)



if it does not delight
discard the heart for poetry is joy
if it does not inform then close off the brain 
for it is dead if it cannot heed the insistent message
that life is precious
which is all we poets
wrapped in our loneliness
are trying to say 
(from Poetry by Nikki Giovanni)




Happy Monday!

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