Untitled Fifty-four

R.I.P Grandma Polly
6/25/1935–8/7/2015

She applies light strokes
distinct shades of the rainbow
in her color book.

I wonder if she
ever considered herself
an artist at work.

She’d probably laugh
no, it’s just for fun
but the careful strokes tell a

different story.

Bless the Mic

It takes a bold character
to bare its soul on the mic

I only have these words
when you get the chance,

say something with love
—mean it!

Do not do it for the applause
you have an important cause

do it—you have something to say
when the world tried to hush you.

Most importantly,
say it with love.

Always with love.

Untitled Fifty-two

to all the folks who left me behind in the dust

It is easy to assume the worst in people

because when they hurt you it doesn’t

feel as bad as expecting the best out of

them.

—To’Wednesday Sibley, Untitled Fifty-two

Feeling Sixteen Again

Writing to survive
feeling dead inside

can’t find the essence
to thrive. Not sure why.

All I can do is try
all I’ve ever done
was try.

— To’Wednesday Sibley, Feeling Sixteen Again

Vulgaris

You’re with me dawn to dusk

In my mirror, you’d think I’d

be used to you by now, I’m not.

No matter how much application

I apply you’re still there, reminding

me not to get comfortable when I

start to feel secure again.

 

 

Damn Haikus

It challenges you
to find the right words, ya know?
Hell, what are the right words?

—To’Wednesday Sibley, Damn Haiku’s