The Card Catalog

Tags

#datlibrarylife, card catalogs, dewey decimal classification system, library diaries, public libraries

Do you remember the time….

when libraries were filled with card catalogs, cardigans, and spectacles?
Do you remember the time…

when the library ladies wore their hair in a bun,

back when hearing the words “reading opens your mind to worlds of wonders” so much fun,

when thumbing through a card catalog was quite the spectacle?
Do you remember…

when Saturday mornings at the library were filled with family fun,

back when you were taught to use your inside voice and SHHH was the rule of thumb,

back when your search engines were The Card Catalog or a Superhero Library Lady caped with a cardigan and masked with a pair of spectacles?
Do you remember the time…

when you first discovered the book was better than the movie,

back when the childrens librarian first taught you how to Dewey,

when thumbing through a card catalog was quite the spectacle?
–@StevieStreets #vintage #datlibrarylife #poem | The Card Catalog

Stretch Marks

Tags

beautifulness, layers of goodness, stretch marks

Her stretch marks were like another layer of goodness;

sorta like caramel drizzled on an ooey gooey chocolate brownie sundae.
–@StevieStreets #stretchmarksarebeautiful #poem| Stretch Marks: an ode to all the women with layers of goodness

Pamombeau

Tags

final respects, homage, salutations

Pamombeau…

’cause a person’s name is the sweetest sound in any language,

as Dale Carnegie would say.
Pamombeau…

’cause whenever I said your name

you would smile brighter than a sunray.
Pamombeau…

’cause I know you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
Pamombeau…

my dear friend, I will always remember the last time we spoke;

you were so happy, you said your headaches have finally gone away.
Pamombeau…

my dear friend, I’ll always hold onto to that day;

’cause when I said Pamombeau you smiled then asked if we could pray.
A few days later I got the call stating that you were in ICU 

and didn’t know what to say.
However, when Kristie told me to talk to you in ICU,

I knew exactly what to say.
I held your hand and said Pamombeau,

hoping that you would respond in some way.
You moved your legs, Kristie exclaimed “SHE RESPONDED,”

as I fought through a panic attack, thinking “no way.”
Pamombeau…

You taught me to always be mindful of what I say.
Thank you for being a friend,

thank you for always having kind words to say.
Thank you for telling Mr. John that I was kind to you at the library;

I still can’t believe how he hired me the next day.
Thank you for bringing me into the fold at Kohl’s;

I still live the “Yes We Can” mantra everyday.
Thank you for joining the chicken biscuit club on Saturdays;

I’ll never forget when you nonchalantly told me 

“I know you, Lydia, and Jan usually get Bojangles but… 

I bought Chick-fil-A 

and Chick-fil-A is better than Bojangles anway.”
Farewell Pamombeau…

I’m so glad that the last time we spoke you asked if we could pray.
Farewell Pamombeau…

’cause a person’s name is the sweetest sound in any language,

as Dale Carnegie would say.
Although, you were most affectionately known as Beau…

I think this one’s gonna be entitled Pamombeau 

’cause whenever I said your name

you would smile brighter than a sunray.
Farewell Pamombeau…

your name will always be an ode to Pam and Beau,

as you used to say.
As I bid my final Farewell, Pamombeau…

I think we’ll call this one Pamombeau,

as an ode to you today.
–@StevieStreets #homage #poem | Pamombeau

Naturally She’s Dope

Tags

bantu knots, black girl magic, black girls rock, black love matters, ebony essence, kinky twists, melanated, natural and happy, natural hair journey, self-appreciation, self-love, twist out

I’m a fan of black girl hips and full lips…
I got a thing for that ol’ black girl magic, I must admit.

I’m a sucka for melanated exoticness and kinky twists.

Ain’t nothin’ like a beautiful sista…
afrobloomin’,
melanin poppin’,
sweet naturalista.

This is dedicated to the natural hair movement;
keep doing what you’re doin’…
Oh how I adore how black girls rock…
Yes! BLACK GIRLS ROCK!

God bless whoever coined the phrase “Black Girls Rock!”
Shout out to Beverly Bond
and all the black women that applaud black women;
I’m lovin’ the bond.
Yes! Black Girls Rock!

I like ’em black and educated,
highly melanated…
black love matters,
you could love it or hate it.
I need a pretty brown that’ll slay with cornrows or locs.
I’m looking for a love that’s not afraid to rock bantu knots.
I’ll probably tie the knot with a beautiful soul crowned with a twist out.

She’s the crown jewel and my muse;
when I meet her, she’ll be natural and happy…
eyebrows on fleek,
pearly white teeth with the twist out.

I got a thing for twists, puffs, and all that stuff; don’t get it twisted.
Let’s be specific;
I got a love jones for chocolate skin tones…
naturally she’s dope,
word to my shea butter soap.

I see heaven in her eyes ’cause the world is not enough.
But where is she?
I’m looking for the woman with the FREE ANGELA tee…

Her heart is golden yet she’s a diamond in the rough;
sweetest thang I’ve ever known yet her shoe game’s tough.

We need to break the Willie Lynch chip…
and she’s a symbol of hope.
We need to kill the Negropean…
and her iconic curls are a symbol of hope.
When I need to know black is beautiful, it’s team natural that keeps me afloat.

Her natural hair journey is an expedition of self-love and self-appreciation…
I had to take a moment to spread love and express my appreciation.
Brown skin…
I’m glad to see you lovin’ the skin you’re in;
’cause naturally you’re dope.

Yeah, I’m a fan of black girl hips and full lips…
’cause naturally she’s dope.

–@StevieStreets ebony essence | Naturally She’s Dope

Melanin Poppin’

Tags

afro bloomin', black girl magic, black girls rock, black love matters, melanin poppin'

I like ’em afro bloomin’ with the melanin poppin’…
FREE ANGELA tee, HANDS OFF ASSATA button rockin’.

Never had a love like this but aint no stoppin’…
When I meet her, we’ll reverse the Willie Lynch doctrine;
the movement’s not an option.

I need a ten with Nefertiti’s allure;
she could be vegan or omnivore,
long as her heart is pure.

I need a Coretta Scott, to invest in my intellectual stock.
I need a Betty Dean, to safeguard my Deen.

I need to convene with a Nubian queen that won’t intervene;
when I meet her, she’ll understand my debt to society…
her wisdom will hold my interest, we’ll invest in society.

I’m looking for that ebony essence to jet by the side of me;
I need a Harriet Tubman with Lauryn Hill writing skills.
She could be fly as Ruby Dee,
long as she’s fierce as Ruby Bridges when it’s time to build.

–@StevieStreets #blacklovematters | Melanin Poppin’ revisited

Pinot Grigio & Poetry

Tags

a different kind of vibe, amy winehouse, invocations, libations, literature, muse, pinot grigio, poet, poetry, wine house

I just wanna listen to Amy Winehouse
in a wine house,
swirl something light,
invocate the muse,
and write.

–@StevieStreets #amywinehouse, the #winelover, the #poet #writing a #poem… #adifferentkindofvibe poem | Pinot Grigio & Poetry: an ode to lioness – hidden treasures, libations, & literature

Ode to a Surrealist

Tags

apple of the eye, birds eye, man in a bowler hat, motifs, rene magritte, surrealism, symbolisms, the false mirror, the son of man, theatrical masks

Everything we see hides another thing; we always want to see what is hidden by what we see. -Rene Magritte

#codeofthestreets:

Here’s an ode to a surrealist…

Who’s the man in a bowler hat?

Who’s the son of man with the provocative and playful knack?

Why does the false mirror compel you to see the real gist?

Who do you know that can open the mind’s of academicians,
evoke mystery and keep nothing hidden?

Who’s better fit to depict the actualisms that appear before the eye…

with symbolisms and motifs that draw you to see what’s hidden neath the eye?

How many artists do you know that can alter sight like an optician,
illustrate optical illusions to draw attention to the visible that’s hidden?

There’s always more than meets the eye…
Did the forbidden fruit fall from a tree or was it the apple of the eye?
Never rule out what you see,
on the level – there’s always more left for the eye.

In your right mind,
your left eye is the bird’s eye…
Don’t be close minded,
open your third eye;
the windows to the unmasked soul lie in the left eye.

Did you peep the undertones of the guy in the overcoat?
How’d he hide the visible in plain sight? – Was the arm bent slight a clear indication or an oversight of the eye?
Why does keeping up appearances drive one to lose sight of the visible that is present to the eye?

How do we get past the theatrical masks?
Why are the tears of a clown too complex to grasp?
Is sight something we see
or is it a reflection of a conscious mind?

Why is sight often cited as eyesight;
why is the ability to see perceived by the range of vision on site,
why does visualization begin in the mind?

I don’t know why they say “believe half of what you see.”
I don’t know why psychoanalysis suggest: IMAGINATION can change the perceptions of reality.
What I know for sure is the surrealists invite us to look at the world differently;
even if it’s only in the mind,
even if it’s only in the mind.

–@StevieStreets #surrealism | Ode to a Surrealist

The Poet, The Boxer, The Activist: The Greatest!

Tags

Cassius Clay, I shook up the world, Muhammad Ali, rumble young man rumble, the greatest

Today is a sad day.
We celebrate the life of a hero,
we celebrate the champ,
we celebrate the pieces of a man,
we celebrate Muhammad Ali.

May your legacy live on in the hearts of many.
You introduced me the discourse…
to be young, gifted and black.
When our people were under attack,
you fearlessly used your wits and words to fight back.
You taught me the power of poetry,
you taught me the beauty of being black.

May your legacy live on in the hearts of many.
Mr. Muhammad Ali…
oh, how I wanna thank you
for what you have done for the people that look like we.
Seeing you on national TV, saying “look at me, I am pretty, I am still pretty”
has done so much for brown skin people like we.
You taught me to fight inconceivable odds,
you taught me to be unapologetically black.

Today is a sad day.
We celebrate the life of a hero,
we celebrate the champ,
we celebrate the pieces of a man,
we celebrate Muhammad Ali.

Today is a sad day.
Let us remember to float like a butterfly
and sting like a be.

When the gloves come off,
let us hold no punches;
let us never forget “The Champ” was here.

Let us never forget the courage and convictions of “The Greatest;”
when life has us against the ropes,
let the words “Rumble, young Man! Rumble!” suddenly appear.

Today is a sad day.
Let us remember to float like a butterfly
and sting like a be.

Today is a sad day;
however,
let there be joy in the world.

Today is a sad day;
however,
let love and laughter fill the world.

Today is a sad day;
however,
let us remember…
the poet,
the boxer,
the activist,
the man that shook up the world.

Today is a sad day;
however,
let the tears bring joy to the world.

Today is a sad day;
however,
let us remember…
Cassius Clay,
Cassius X,
Muhammad Ali,
the man – the myth – the legend,
the freedom fighter that shook up the world.

Today is a sad day;
however,
I had to take a moment to say…
Ali Bomaye!
I had to take a moment to say… thank you
to the brave soul that chose to speak up
for the voiceless in the world.
I had to take a moment to say… thank you
to the man that stood tall
when people with brown skin were being beat down in the world.
I had to take a moment to say… thank you
to the man that taught me to live by the laurels of faith;
the man that taught me to embrace dignity and grace within the world.
I had to take a moment to say… thank you
to the poet,
to the boxer,  
to the activist
to the hero simply known as “The Greatest,”
to the champion of the people,
to the charismatic man that shook up the world,
to the man that shook up the world,
to the man that shook up the world.

#codeofthestreets:
You really don’t lose when you fight for what you believe in. -Muhammad Ali

–@StevieStreets #muhammadali #homage #poem | The Poet, The Boxer, The Activist: The Greatest!

Ode to a Sonnet

Tags

ode, petrarch, poetry is not dead, sonnet, the rebirth of cool

Poetry is not dead, here’s an ode to a sonnet.
Oh how I orchestrate grammar.
Compose quatrains and tercets into stanzas.
The rebirth of cool, my scribes are iconic.

Poetry is not dead, here’s an ode to a sonnet.
I pen fourteenth century Italy: exponentially, Petrarch in a manner.
I frame scenes vividly: candidly, no art, no camera.
The rebirth of cool, my scribes are iconic.

If poetry should die, let her die tonight.
If poetry should die, let her tombstone read: abba, abba, cde, cde.
If poetry should die, let us remember her form.

If poetry should die, may she inspire a poet to write.
If poetry should die, let her eulogy read: abba, abba, cde, cde.
If poetry should die, let us deliver a sonnet by dawn.

–@StevieStreets ‪#‎codeofthesonnets‬ | Ode to a Sonnet