Category Archives: Poetry

On Turning Fifty-One By Glenis Redmond

What a treat for oops50 to have Glenis Redmond (poet – teaching artist – imagination activist) write a post for us.  We’ve  been secretly waiting for Glenis to turn 50, and before we knew it, she turned 51.

Glenis Redmond
Glenis Redmond

Who’s counting? Obviously the world is and everyday it speaks with many mouths and many television and internet eyes that reflect the many ways that I will never measure up.

When I am out of sync with myself and not aligned to my own stars, I take this projection personally.  I listen to the critique and the opinions of the vapid.  I down the chatter like greasy fast food. The poison enters my bloodstream and spreads so I don’t know where I begin and the toxicity ends.

This is when I fall prey to counting the ways that I don’t measure up: the number of crow’s feet around my eyes, the pounds on the scale, the dollars I have or do not have in the bank and my lovers or lack thereof.

I know better than to succumb to this useless counting of what is wrong, but I always adopt a myopic vision that is destructive to my spiritual and creative being.  When I am in my holistic mindset I only count what’s right.  So here is my list of what I know to be true on turning fifty-one.

  1. Drinking tea makes me a better woman. The power is in the sipping of: Egyptian Mint, Ginger or Green Tea.  The healing is in the slowing down to savor the moment.  When I take time to drink a cup of tea at home or in my hotel room before I start my day of work. This mark indicates that I am on my mark. This ritual fills my gauge to full.
  2. Fortunately and unfortunately I am not always on my mark. I don’t always stop to drink tea. I rush and get ahead of myself, because I am both a Dreamer & a Doer
  3. The doer sometimes dominates the dreamer-poet.
  4. The pros? I get things done.
  5. Check the map and my odometer that teeters close to 350,000-miles.
  6. I have performed and facilitated poetry workshops in every state except Alaska, Maine, North Dakota, South Dakota, Utah and Idaho.
  7. Travel does not always allow for my roots to sink deep.
  8. I yearn for deepness:
  9. South Carolina, my birthplace
  10. I am from South Carolina, but not totally of South Carolina.
  11. My family’s military trek made sure of that.
  12. This makes me a seeker. I cross over man-made boundaries on the regular. Traveling is part of my vibration.  I am served and fed well by crossing regional and cultural boundaries.
  13. Collecting both rocks and stories ground me.
  14. I always come back to my roots: South Carolina
  15. The cons of my traveling? My mind races too. I rarely slow down.
  16. My body is having its say by forcing me to slow down.
  17. I have Adrenal Fatigue bordering on Adrenal Failure.
  18. I do not sleep. I do not rest.
  19. I often feel like a stranger.
  20. I’m Bi-Carolinian.
  21. North Carolina is where I gained my poetic wings.
  22. There’s no Tiger or Tarheel in me. Ironically, orange and Carolina blue are my two favorite colors.
  23. I wish I cared who was in the playoffs. I just don’t.
  24. I was a cheerleader in high school and I did not care then about the sport on the field or court, I just loved being with the crowd: dancing and cutting flips feeling the high vibrations of people’s spirits.
  25. I’m still a cheerleader. I’m an imagination activist. I help people to unlock their imaginations.  We talk of what matters.  Then, I tell them to write.
  26. I found that when I was twelve what mattered to me:
  27. I find solace and comradeship in good books – stories of overcoming. People who have traveled to their inner space and written about it: Zora Neal Hurston, Frida Kahlo, Maya Angelou, Wangari Maathai and many more — generally stories of women. I study on how they have traveled this rugged terrain.
  28. There’s struggle to being a woman.
  29. I overcome those obstacles daily. What woman doesn’t?
  30. I was born a feminist – womanist, yet I’m a lover of men unapologetically. I do not see the two as mutually exclusive. I love being a woman.
  31. My mom is my best friend. Politically and religiously we are of two different ilks, but we have similar cores: Love!  She is my touchstone.
  32. My mama bought me an orange bike with turquoise rims for my 51st She gets me if not left of centered views. She says, “ride Glenis.”
  33. The color orange in all its incarnations gives me life.
  34. I’m a pacifist at all cost, yet I do not suffer fools lightly. I get this from my dad: Johnny C. Redmond
  35. I am a weeper, but a warrior.
  36. I was born into poverty.
  37. I stand for the underdog. I was the underdog.
  38. I still sometimes have an impoverished mindset.
  39. Therefore, but by the grace of God go I.
  40. I am not defined by my challenges.
  41. My spirit radiates all colors.
  42. I’m spirit-rich.
  43. I’m a traveler
  44. Places I want to travel: Cameroon, Nigeria, Bahia, Ireland, Scotland, Wales and the English countryside.
  45. I’m Afro-Carolinian. I love to dance: tribal, interpretative and funk.
  46. It is my prayer – the way I talk with God.
  47. I love to walk. I work out my worries with each step.
  48. I don’t consider myself old, just an old soul.
  49. YOLO rolls off the tongue (You Only Live Once) not mine, because I have been here before many times. I recognize lands and people from other eras.
  50. I was an old soul when I was born, therefore turning fifty-one does not faze me. Yes, getting older has its challenges, but also being a person diagnosed with fibromyalgia at twenty-nine years does, too. Everyday I get out of bed is a challenge, yet it is also a victory.
  51. My daughters, Amber and Celeste, are the most precious metal of my inner circle. They make the bright ring in my life glow with pride and joy. Now my grandson has joined this golden lineage. Oh yeah, I write poems. Here is my latest poem for my grandson.  Julian teaches me everyday how to meditate on goodness and not on the standards by which the world measures me and finds me lacking.  He has been here before and he is wise.  I listen. Like tea, love makes me a better woman.  Here is the poem I wrote for my grandson.

 

Glenis and twin daughters Amber & Celeste
Glenis and twin daughters Amber & Celeste

 

Grandma Waterfall for Julian Josiah Priester      

My status has been upgraded
from mom to grandma–
who knew the heart morphed
into more?
I should have known the moment,
when my heart shape shifted,
when I gave birth to twins
two decades and five years ago:
from stream into raging river,
from the weakest trickle into a force of nature.glenisGrandmawaterfall

There’s no parent handbook
that foretold of the more I would become.
I looked into my inner pond
and I could see I had become more alive with giving.
I wanted to stay on earth
with the territory of my heart expanded –
pushing west with poetry and purpose:
the frontier of becoming mama
packing lunches and endless carpools
to school and soccer,
tucking babies into bed
and growing girls into beautiful women –
artists people with pen and brush
ready to right the world.

Now, to you the first son of our family
you have made me grand
the only royalty I will ever know:
a grand waterfall unable to contain what I hold.

A treasure : Julian Josiah
10 fingers: starlit
10 two toes: eager squiggles
cheeks: squishy pockets

earned you the nickname: The chipmunk gnome.
Your eyes: lit with the deepest shine, déjà vu remembrance.
Your birth weight: 9 lbs. 3 oz.
You’ll carry what’s been passed on: the walk of the ancestors.
This legacy also a burden,
but your legs will be sturdy
and worthy of the task
like Yusef Komunyakaa writes:
You were born
to wear out at least
one hundred angels.
Like Maya Angelou penned
You come as one but stand as ten thousand.
You will carry this load with wisdom
and an undeterred stride.

Julian, all is possible with you.
Unflinchingly I will sing
of the more I want to give you
what John Lennon dreamed
imagine there’s not countries
it is not hard to do
nothing to kill or die for…
Imagine all the people living life as one.

Julian I am a dreamer
it is all that have: the gift of my imagination.
Pour into these waters little boy
brother, son and grandson of the Universe
flow into this world
with dreams better
than the one I/WE are
handing to you.

I am here as Grandma Waterfall
also an eagle watching over you
with the lesson of water ever ready
gently guiding you to find your own flow
from black boy to black man
like Langston Hughes wrote,
I hope you’ll dream a world
where love will bless the earth,
because you are part of that blessing
lighting the world with the brilliance
of what you came to do.

If you’ve never had the pleasure of experiencing Glenis in person, catch her at TEDxGreenville or visit her blog.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Monica Devine: March River Walk

I walk the river discovering a new direction where
cutbanks have sloughed off and bending

trees lean with a weary creak

meltwater seeps up, whirlpools suck down and

everything is on the verge of

falling in, falling off, falling apart

like that time on the Kusko

when we had to race around open leads,

roaring on the sagging ice

me holding tight your waist & leaning into

hairpin turns

we weaved around downed timber

just on the edge of ice, oh

the water is deep there;

.

the taste of air and the smell of cold, sucked

my breath away. words .

more words collected to describe

these northern myths with clarity & precision

my river walking is

re-writing the story, again

opening me like a new motherhood, showing clearly

where my lines break/into/

a hopeful and cavernous space to breathe.

.

Monica Devine:  Writer, Photographer, Nature Lover

What keeps me afloat: Exploring art, playing music, living in the mountains, wandering (following the trail ahead), wondering (looking up at the stars)…and writing it all down to share here, with you. I write poetry, children’s books, fiction, memoir, and non-fiction, because, we are so much more than muscle and bone: We Are Made of Our Stories.
I consistently wander off the beaten path, and I GO NOWHERE WITHOUT MY CAMERA
MONICA DEVINE
All photos and entries are copyrighted by author and cannot be used without permission


 

Monica Devine’s Poetry and Pictures

The Ancestress

I am an old woman sitting on the beach
pink scarf   holding back   windblown hair

a mother makes bird calls
to her children playing

they come running whistling   a secret code
huh.  a family of birds
beating wings   forever young.

growing up was a long paddle then
slicing the wind   feeling the board   slip
out from under you

fallingdown, standing up

falling down, standingup

wave riders make their own delight
like babies   learning   to walk.

the sea pitches windflower caps
in harmony with   ringing sand    underfoot

you hear the possibility of
pure clarity, good health

though season’s children don’t recognize
these   sad    retreats.

water builds and fills your ears

for you are now    swimming  with the ancients

glancing back
from time to time   you preen
to shore up morale?

 

I am an old woman sitting
on the beach
pink scarf     holding back windblown hair

I’ll sleep high in a monkey pod tree tonight

legs dangling in silk trousers,
butter cookies in a tin under my arm

dreaming of the young long boarder on her knees

paddling smooth strokes & with
fluid grace punching through

the    wild surf  of her youth.

MONICA DEVINE
Writer, Photographer, Nature Lover
What keeps me afloat: Exploring art, playing music, living in the mountains, wandering (following the trail ahead), wondering (looking up at the stars)…and writing it all down to share here, with you. I write poetry, children’s books, fiction, memoir, and non-fiction, because, we are so much more than muscle and bone: We Are Made of Our Stories.
I consistently wander off the beaten path, and I GO NOWHERE WITHOUT MY CAMERA
All photos and entries are copyrighted by author and cannot be used without permission