Tuesday, November 30, 2010

smile

what was and

i used to reside
have passed away
those spaces are naked now
bare, soundly forever asleep
because
i simply grew tired
the yearning, the worry
the weariness, the edge

so i lullabyed darkness to its death

but i will fondly ponder those play rooms
they deserve such an honored remembrance
afterall, they were the mid wife of my destiny
the birther of an elongated horizon

because

it was always meant

to be

*this is one of my fav poems. i wrote it quite some time ago. maybe a year or so. still love it. i included it in my book!

Copyright 2010 Regina Y. Evans, from the book Nothing Cool About Ten, by Regina Y. Evans. Available on Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/31349

This Thing: Choice

today i am just thinking about how much does someone  love. ever gotten weary of "loving?" i have. from head to toe.

i woke up thinking about this lovin' thing and then read a post from my friend JOY (that's her nickname cus she is awesome!) and that just confirmed it. i have made choices in love, friendship and life to lay myself  bare. and ya'll know what happens when you assume that posture. you are a magnet for it all: the good and the bad. and often the downright ugly. and so many times the gorgoeusly sweet! so, yes, i've been poorly treated and i have been amazingly loved.

in my older age, i fasten on tightly to the notion of choice. i have a choice to walk away from someone's bullshit cus "they tripping". or I have a choice to stick around and see what kinda crazycrap or compassionatezeal  has taken up residence in their being. or to just stay and learn love and be love. or just leave and learn love and be love. choice. its a trip, isn't it?! either way, i learn  about myself. my failings, my strengths. whatever the case may be. it is a time of growth.

i have recently begun a journey of reconnecting with my family. and this is a journey that i choose willingly to remain upon. through it all. good. and the aweful! so we will see! my choice, i chose. wisely. blood is blood.

yesterday my big sis gave me a new pair of shoes. as she handed them to me she said "You will be able to walk long distances in these. They are very comfortable." And, yes, they are comfortable and quite fabulous to look upon. So, why the shoe story? Well, for me it was a beautiful moment. Something I would have missed out on if  i had made the choice of "turning the key" in another direction. And, big sis/lil sis minutes are just special. everyone knows that!

is there a moral to this story? yes...sometimes you gotta know when ta hold 'em, know when to fold 'em. know when to walk away and know when to walk long. In your sister's shoes.

live your life.

peace

** Watch out every Tuesday Morning for my new series called This Thing. The series is on "the truth of the matter" of life. This is the first installment. Feel free to leave thoughts, comments, or impressions.

Monday, November 29, 2010

Nuff Said

You must do the thing which you think you cannot do. -Eleanor Roosevelt

peace


Poetry: Pas de Deux

the moon dances around the star at night
into the early morning hours
it keeps its distance
never far away
shining brightly
lighting up patches of the black sky
upon a stage of graceful clouds
a divine eternal boundary
the two tango
at arms length
resting between songs
connected by God’s sufficient embrace
the Father rests his finger on the sky’s stage
changing the painted scenery
refusing to dull
the delight
of the dancing partners
pas de deux
pirouetting across the sky
one
then the other
never long in the same position
in God’s territory
bowing and leaping at faith
the star seeking reason and purpose
the light of God’s chosen moon holding it steady
beauty in the motion of dance
an unfamiliar troupe of stars
danced for the Father one night
a performance of wonderment and fear
searing into the star’s soul blinding her gaze
leaving weary steps
forgotten taps
uneven spins
the morning is forgiveness
dawn teaches
a new clarity of graceful twirls
a knowing “two-step”
death to life
pain to joy
the evening stage begins to beckons
in the light of darkness
the star and the moon dance
once more
for God
pas de deux
amen

*One of my fav pieces from my first poetry book: "Nonnie and the Butterfly". Copyright 2008 Regina Y. Evans, All Rights Reserved

**dedicated to Miriama. To whom the moon and the star has been bequeathed. Selah.

Big J's Place


Check out my friend's, Jason Stevens, Australian television show! What a trooper! I have know Jason for some time now and can vouch for him that he is an awesome kinda guy. One of Australia's gems for sure. I am so inspired by how he has held onto his dreams until fulfillment. The show also features his beautiful wife Beck (who is awesome in her own right and together they make a WOWZAA gorgeous and talented team!) They also rock because they have both stepped up as a team to aid in the fight against sex trafficking. Jason and Beck helped to bring the movie Call and Response (a movie bringing awareness to sex trafficking) to Australia. I believe that they hosted an awareness event/fundraiser for the movie. Also, I believe, that they are involved with additional fundraising efforts on behalf of sex trafficked victims.

Check out the first Big J's Place show at the link below:


Want to know more about Jason and Beck Stevens? Check out the links below:

Big J's Place Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/bigjsplace

And to check out the Movie Call and Response go to the link below:



Sunday, November 28, 2010

just you

if you could
what would you sing?
and would it matter if no one
heard, saw, knew
your tune?

sing
you

let
heaven
conspire


Copyright 2010 Regina Y. Evans, All Rights Reserved (from the book Nothing Cool About Ten. Available on http://www.smashwords.com/)

generations

i saw Hope standing
on top of a beautiful ladder
she was touching
the heart of heaven
and she smiled
i yearned to do the same
to experience the flutter
i began my climb
to step up, stand up
in an instant moment of
the history of my generations
i found myself floating
in the circle of a restful hurricane
called the embrace of Love.
we decided to stay

Copyright 2010 Regina Y. Evans All Rights Reserved (From the ebook Nothing Cool About Ten, by Regina Y. Evans, available now on Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/31349 )

Quote Of The Decade

"To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else—means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight." e. e. cummings

******

I came across this quote on a tweet by Chad Hymas. Now here is a man, I reckon,  who has an amazing journey and knows a bit of the things of life. Check out part of his bio:

"At the age of 27, Chad Hymas' life changed instantaneously when an accident left him a quadriplegic. Since that time Chad has been recognized by the state of Utah as the Superior Civilian of the Year. He is the president of his own communications company and an internet marketing company. As a member of the National Speakers Association Chad travels as many as 150,000 miles a year speaking to hundreds of professional and civic organizations such as Wells Fargo, Blue Cross Blue Shield, AT&T, Rainbird, IHC, American Express, Prudential Life, Vast FX, Zion Securities, and others."

Full bio and website here: http://www.chadhymas.com/bio.html

Follow Chad Hymas on twitter at: http://twitter.com/chadlhymas

What a treat is was for my heart to read such a quote from a man who has overcome incredible odds to be who he was destined to be. Be encouraged.
Fly wild.

peace

ps i placed the picture of the eagle walking because we love the whole idea and symbolism of eagles soaring but i also find it fascinating and unique (because we don't see nor think of it much!) that eagles can actually walk strong too! and the fab MC Hammer always says: DO THE EAGLE WALK! Regina translation: Keep on truckin! in spite of!



Saturday, November 27, 2010

Nothing Cool About Ten, by Regina Y. Evans

A collection of my poetry and short stories.
Available on Smashwords. 10 dollars! Also, you can sample ten percent of the book for free!!
Click on the following link:



Thank you for your interest and purchase!

-peace

My fav (of the moment) Winnie the Pooh quote

"There is something you must always remember: You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think." - Pooh

****

*I saw this quote on a To Write Love On Her Arms (TWLOHA) tweet. Check out the organization. TWLOHA is a non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide. Here is their website link: http://www.twloha.com/

Friday, November 26, 2010

Such a funny thing....

No matter how many bumps or bruises. No matter the heartache and pain. Life bequeaths to you a certain set of giftings and talents. And those things are unique to you. They can never be stripped. I find that quite fascinating.

Oftentimes as I am going through a healing process, when I am completely and utterly raw...I turn towards my giftings: writing and designing clothes. For me, these places are a calm space of worship to Christ. Because He placed those things uniquely in my hands. For me. And they will flow through me in my own Christ inspired way. Always.

I reckon that is cool. Seems like there is something rather warm about TEN.

peace

Broken Cistern

You budda", she spoke.

I looked up to see a girl tryin' ta act like what she thought a woman of today should be actin' like. Tough, armour on. The words street cred come to mind.

"I beg your pardon?" I stammered out.

"I said you budda." she said a bit louder with drawn out vowels. As if the elevation of sound would trigger the knowing.

I stared at her blankly, searchingly.

She then cranked out a larger than life laugh and said, "I like what you wearin'. Budda. You budda." She shrugged.

"Oh. Umm, thanks. Budda. Yes." I gulped.

Conversation sprung forth cus of "budda". Right there. In a Harlem grocery store.

She seemed a bit young to be out in the middle of the day. So, my mouth said what my mind thought.

"Why aren't you in school? Don't you go to school? Its 1 o'clock."

"Did I just say that?" my brain mused.

Well, it was too late to back it right up. I stood my ground. I stared intently. Right into the swimming pools of living waters that she knew only as her eyes.

In query's moment I was sure that I heard a crack.

"Was that her heart?" I wondered.

Shift. Answered. Yes, it was.

Soft terseness spilled from her face.

She spoke, "Well, I, well, my Momma don't worry about it so I don't neither. Why you care anyway? What's it to you?"

I paused a moment. Wondering "Truth. What was it to me?"

Don't blink.

"I care because I care about young beautiful girls who should be taking advantage of ALL their opportunities in life. How else do you plan to rule the world? You can't do it on fumes! You need to go to school!"

More softness of face.

Side stepped. She imagined.

"You live around here?" Her.

"Yes, when I am in the country." Me.

When you in the country?" Her, again.

"Yes, when I'm in the country. I spend most of the year in Australia. Ever been there?" Me, last shot.

Bingo.

Seed planted.

And with that the newness of a relationship was birthed. Whenever I stepped to the Black Mecca called Harlem, Budda (me) and Budda's friend (her) would spend many evenings sittin' on my Brownstone stoop. Engaged in life. Relationship.

She brought her friends. I brought the chips and red soda. Laughter, questions, stories, passions, dreams. Revealed. Healed. Our individual broken cisterns mended a bit more by the touch of hands. Fingerprints of life. Required.

Be budda.



Note: Sometimes in life, in a split second, we have the opportunity to dive head first into the heart of the matter. Love. May you run like you have never run before and chase like you have never chased before. Discover her. Discover you.


Copyright 2010 Regina Y. Evans All Rights Reserved (from the book "Nothing Cool About Ten")

Me And Miss Charlotte (Tea for Two: One Loving Racist and a Black Girl)

I can remember the first time my eyes set upon the crevices and valleys of Miss Charlotte's face. It was 1996 and I was hanging out in one of Sydney's posh lil areas called Double Bay (or Double Pay as it is cheekily known locally). Double Bay. An area of try-hards as far as I could tell. Littered with "fashionistas" wearing the latest of the lately thing that only those in the know would wear. As of late.

I found myself captivated with Miss. Charlotte. I yearned to know "the reasons why" of her being. I wanted to know how she learned to sip her tea with her lips pursed so delicately. My own tea sipping always ended with wet dribbles down my chin and onto my slightly wrinkled tee shirt.

Intrigue grabbed my spirit and whispered, "Perfectly coiffed, extraordinarily turned out, who/why/how is that lady?"

I could not walk past her table without searching her out. Or could I?

Did you know that sometimes feet have a thought process of their own?

Off I zoomed. Over to her table. I stood. Said bravely "Hello. Ummm, I'm Reggie and I was just wondering who you are? Are you a model or something?"

There. I had introduced myself. I watched her as she watched me. Watching her. A slow smile drew up the corners of her mouth. Silk unfurled out of her mouth, "My name is Charlotte and, no, I am not a model. I am 82 years old. And, darling, that is two years past the cut off age for modelling these days."

The air stopped dead in its tracks.

"Would you like to join me for a cup of tea?" she asked. Head ever so slightly tilted to the side.

Sometimes in life God sends you an angel who won't highlight the silliness that floats out of your mouth.

"Of course. No I meant...were you a model......when you were young....."

"Would you like to join me" she repeated.

I sat. Still.

That was our first meeting. Over the course of the years Miss Charlotte and I spent a gorgeous amount of minutes together. Chatting, sipping tea (she taught me her non dribbling techniques), laughing and shopping. I learned of her years as a youngster growing up in Germany. I was caressed by the chapters of her life spent in America. She was a lover of passion. A world traveller. She reigned before her time. No man ruled over her. She went where she wanted to go and did what she wanted to do. The sky was her very own canvas, playtoy. A woman after my own heart. Selah.

I loved her smile and the twinkling blue stars which floated out of her irises. She was prone to tottering to the left a little bit as she walked. So, we often found ourselves strolling down the streets of Sydney arm in arm. Resting a bit of her weight upon my being. I felt protective.

She and I, Miss Charlotte and me. We enjoyed each other. The sublimeness of good company and friendship. Joy.

But, there was one small issue. A tiny glitch. Perhaps some would refer to it as a problem. I will leave that for you to decide. You see, I learned early on that Miss Charlotte had a habit of saying such things as "Reggie darling even though you are dark black you are very beautiful". And it continued "You have such big fluffy lips." And the dreaded "Your behind is rather large. Round. Very round. Is that common for Negro girls?"

Gasp.

To make matters worse it seemed that in her sunset years Miss Charlotte would often forget that she had already spun me dry with her series of queries and "compliments". My visits to what I quietly nicknamed "The Black Ditch Of Miss Charlotte" left me quizzical. But, I went. Many times. I answered. I responded. Again and again. "Thank you for complimenting my chocolate drop colored skin, Miss Charlotte" Over and over. 'Yes Ma'am my lips are gloriously full." Round and round again. "Yes, black women are world renown to be beautifully curvy, Miss Charlotte."

My mouth's work burned my ear drums. Everytime.

Here is the thing.

I had really grown to love my beautiful friend. I ran head first into the details of her kaleidoscope exploits. I could not get enough of her stories of she-strength. I learned. I breathed in a new slice of existence because of Miss Charlotte.

So, what was I to do?

Sometimes one has to take life for what it is. And what it was...was this: A beautiful woman, loving and kind. That was one hand. And then on the other hand she possessed this, this...thing called prejuidice.

My decision. My choice.

I chose life. Relationship. In spite of.

We met. Together. On common ground. A place of High Tea, Life Journeys, Anticipated Chats, and Afternoon Strolls.

And, yes, more than occasionally we criss crossed and danced around each. At that place.

"Sometime in life we have to hold each other's hand through all the bullshit and just go for the gold."

Miss Charlotte. She taught me that.


Copyright 2010 Regina Y. Evans All Rights Reserved (from the book "Nothing Cool About Ten")

BishShup!

Mean ol cuss. Meaner than a rattlesnake.
thought he was all dat.
Him and his 99 dollar suits,
plastic croc shoes, rented vehicled.
All fake false flash and wouldn't no' character.
Thought he was it, the one.
talkin' bout "i's a Bishshup,
i's called. yes Lawd!"
Called you what?
Try hard. Wanna bee.
buzz zzz. swat.
Prada, Gucci, but sportin' those twins Poly and Ester,
which, by the by, is okay, fine, great, who cares?
But squish thinkin' i'm stupid, not with it,
cus i shop thrift, old, secondthirdfourth hand.
Sport an afro, natural gurl.
Not into the big red church hats
and they ain't into me.
I'm just doin' my thang.
Searching, finding, securing
the who of who i am.
See me? See.
dude tried ta mentally beat the me outta me.
i Jet. ted. faster than wind blows.
not as gentle tho.
Yo! Bishshup! Bishshup!
You don been
Queened.
Check. and. Mate.

*Haha! Well, my book has a section on the guys that I have dated. i reckon I was pretty pissed off when I wrote this piece! Gosh, I know how to pick 'em, eh?? Welcome to Da Bishshup. And here's to growth. His and mine. Can I get an Amen?

(Copyright 2010 Regina Y. Evans All Rights Reserved (from the book "Nothing Cool About Ten")

Oak Leaves, Mothers, and Legacy

Thanksgiving was a special day. Sounds cliche? Well, here's the deal. Thanksgiving 2010 was a day that my family came together after many years of being fractured. This after many prayers whispered into the ear of heaven from healing friends with names such as Bev, Rellie and Cassandra. So, yes. A miracle. I reckon. The afternoon found me helping my Mom prepare her "stuck her foot in it" candy yams for some of the homeless and hungry beloved of our city. Later, we floated over to a beaut of a restaurant to dip into a magical evening of shared laughter and fine dining. My family was not alone at the table. Somewhere during the beginning of the dining adventure Joy sat down and unfolded a menu of delight. The pleasure was all ours. Alas, we saw, up close and personal, that there is indeed room at the table. For All and Whomsoever. Selah.

For me, one of the most amazing gems of the nuit was the venue. A gorgeous restaurant which sits upon the shores of the beautiful lake in our city. And, wondrously so, the restaurant is the former site of the old Lake House. From back in the day. I'm talking history, now. Willie Brown and Ron Dellums as young men, back in the day. A place where the Alpha's and Aka's, Deltas, Omega's used to gather and have dances (and other community events). For those of you who know the history of Black Greek organizations you will understand the feel of that statement. My Mom told me that it was the place where my Dad courted her! My Dad was the president of his undergraduate chapter of Alphas when they were in college. "The Black, Black and Old Gold!"

So, there we sat, soaking in the lovely view. And an extra bonus? I was able to step upon a bit of my Mom's own personal legacy. Literally. You see, the restaurant is owned by the city. And run by an amazing restaurateur. Because it is owned by the city, several organizations pitched in to help develop this slice of beauty. Two of those organizations are Goodwill and Rotary. My Mother is the first woman and first non white person to Chair (Internationally) Goodwill. And she is very active in Rotary in our city (heading its finance committee at one time, amongst other committees).

As we walked down the steps of the restaurant to our family Thanksgiving dinner she stopped us and pointed to the pavement. The pavement has plaques in the shape of oak leaves that have the names of people who helped to contribute to the restoration of this restaurant and its surroundings. And we looked. And there I saw my Mom's name: Dr. Rosemay S. Darden. It literally took my breath away for a moment.

I suppose to some this seems like a small thing. An oak leaf with a name. My Mom, afterall, has conference rooms across America named after her, her name appears on the slate of funders for Berkeley Black Rep, she is friends with several African Dignitaries, has broken ground on huge complexes all around the USA, briefed President Bush, sat with President Obama at a "thank you for donating all of your whole lotta money" type of event in San Francisco (An aside: One is best advised to not speak ill of our esteemed President in my Mother's ear shot. She cried when he was elected. She still is, afterall, a lil black girl from Mobile, Alabama. On the inside. She remembers the times that she was told "No, you can't." She never listened. Neither did President Obama. They are kindred spirits. Apparently.)

Anyway I digress. Back to the point. My Mother. Her achievements (and the oak leaf). My Mom  is "that chick". Tenacious, like fire, a do-er, quietly compassionate. Success.

So, there I stared at this plaque. In the shape of an oak leaf. Small in comparison to her many achievements. Why was I smiling like a child with a handful of special lollipops?

One word. Legacy. Left behind in the city where I was born. My city. My Mom's oak leaf represents a place where I can always go. And remember. I can remember her strength...against the voices who told her she was not to be. Her perseverance against all odds. And I can smile. Because, as wild as she is, the Lord carried her over and above. She is a feisty eagle.

Yesterday, I realized that I am the continuation of my Mother's flight. Like the extraordinary Aviator Amelia Earhart my Mom's life has been filled with challenges and adventures. And like Earhart, shecontinues to live a life that believes: "The most effective way to do it, is to do it."*

Yes. Yesterday was special. Historic even. Because I heard differently and perhaps for the first time.

"Welcome home, Regina." Yours truly, the Oak Leaf.

peace

*Quote source: http://www.squidoo.com/amelia-earhart-quotes


Copyright 2010 Regina Y. Evans All Rights Reserved (from the book, "Nothing Cool About Ten")











The Funk, by Nikki Junker

What is The Funk? The Funk is real... If you don't know who Brother Cornel West is you need to google him and figure it out because he will change your life. I learned about The Funk from him... How does he describe The Funk? Brother West talks about The Funk as real life, from "the womb to the tomb" he says... to paraphrase him he speaks that we are born in the funk (the womb) and we return to the funk (the tomb) but spend our entire lives trying to get away from the funk...and ain't that the truth? We spend our entire lives trying to avoid real life... we look away from the horrors of the world, pretend they don't exist, buy perfume so we don't smell the funk of our bodies, straighten our teeth so they are aesthetically pleasing, keep our children from seeing the homeless, hush conversations about addiction and use words such as passed away rather than died.... "they" say this is part of being human..civilization if you will and yes protection from the elements is important for health, life and happiness, but have we gone too far? It feels like nothing is real anymore.... and people cannot handle The Funk.... We need to get back to The Funk... real life...REAL LIFE... R E A L L I F E ... I want to take every adolescent whose eyes are glazed over watching My Super Sweet Sixteen and take them to the streets of Harlem.... Hell.. the streets of South East San Diego and show them this is not real life... real life is eating breathing sleeping surviving and loving...we must not forget the loving.... loving is living but I don't think anyone can truly know what it is to live or to love without experiencing the reality that is The Funk.... What really separates you from the man on the corner who has no home, no teeth and is dying for enough money to catch his next fix? How long would it take to change all of those things? Can you appreciate the fact that you have not been there without knowing just where it is that he is? I am not even sure this makes sense....and I know it takes people a lot of time being with me day in and day out to understand what I feel The Funk is, but wow...it is powerful and I am so thankful to Love for showing me. You have experienced The Funk and it made you alive... it keeps you surviving...it is like a deeper understanding of "when S**t hits the fan".... puking when you hear the words "Your Father is Dead" isThe Funk.... having an area to pee and a separate one to eat in a 3rd world country is The Funk.... Slicing down instead of across is The Funk... Dancing like no one is watching is The Funk... Realizing you do not have food to eat to feed your child or any way to obtain it is The Funk...War is the Funk.... The sun on your skin is The Funk.... Watching your lover stick a needle in their arm because they are powerless over addiction is The Funk... Sex is The Funk.... Changing your Grandmother's diapers is The Funk.... Drum rhythm is The Funk..... Birthing a child is The Funk...The Holocaust is The Funk... is it pain? is it beauty? is it good? is it evil? no...it is none of these things and all of these things...IT IS THE FUNK.....

Copyright 2010 Nikki Junker

** This is such a great read by an amazing young lady, Nikki Junker. She works (like myself!) as a Modern Day Abolitionist in the fight against sex trafficking. So, be sure to check her out. Please see the following:


Nikki's organization's website at: www.morethanpurpose.org


Nikki's Blog at: http://morethanpurpose.blogspot.com/


Nikki's  twitter at: http://twitter.com/morethanpurpose 

something

something about cool crisp mornings
awakened sun, owning the sky
something about the dawn's newness
stimulates fingertip's imagination, senses
half sleep, half wake

something about cool crisp mornings
dancing, swirling
air, breathe
something about freshness comes to mind
something about you



(Poetry inspired by my friend, Sidney Coulter)

Picture from www.thebrooklynnomad.com by Andrew Hickey

Copyright 2010 Regina Y. Evans All Rights Reserved (From the book "Nothing Cool About Ten")

Thursday, November 25, 2010

copy kat


wus wonderin if you finding
your own stride
or you still tryin ta co-opt mine?

you know why you
always runnin out of breath?

cus u never suckin in ur own breeze

alwayz reachin for
somebodie elses wind

and it keep tippin back to its owner
rightfully so

but time gon come round
tomorrow though.
for you especially.

gon bring you an
hour and a half of courage
for a start

so g'wan now
rite writely
bes bold

cus its a beat
out there
slumbering
in need
of your stroke

scribe on

(Ack! It just really annoys me when someone deliberately copies my writing style. Seriously, shouldn't folks at least say "Hey, such and such has been a help to me in terms of my writing." For goodness sake! it is such a precious space for me...and it feels like a violation. It also saddens me because creativity is such a God given gift and we should all work to develop what has been placed inside our own unique spirit. There is a reason why it is there!  Well, you can try to wear someone elses coat...but it will never fit or fly. Just the way it tis. Cus what is meant for you? Its for you to birth. Gotta come through your own womb.  So, don't be afraid of your own true giftings! There is beauty in the uniqueness of that!)

Copyright Regina Y. Evans All Rights Reserved (From the book "Nothing Cool About Ten")





Ithaka, by Constantine P. Cavafy

As you set out for Ithaka
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
angry Poseidon-don't be afraid of them:
you'll never find the things like that on your way
as long as you keep thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
wild Poseidon-you won't encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.


Hope your road is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you enter harbors you're seeing for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony.
sensual perfume of every kind-
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to learn and go on learning from their scholars.
Keep Ithaka always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you're destined for.
But don't hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you're old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you've gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.
Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you wouldn't have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaka won't have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you'll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.


*This is one of my favorite poems of all times. I love the lessons that Cavafy renders in the beautiful text. I hope that your life knows wisdom. In full measure.*








Wednesday, November 24, 2010

on stage

he danced
and i rested
in awe of the simplicity
of his movements
peaceful in the wash of his taps
i reached for his right hand
And he stenciled my heart
into his palm
twirling me into the
place where freedom
runs forever
he taught me
the possibilities from the spoken end
to the
certain beginning
and all
because my desire
lite a candle
honoring
the surrender
of yes

Copyright 2010 Regina Y. Evans All Rights Reserved (from the book "Nothing Cool About Ten")

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

I am (A Conversation): Poetry Excerpt

"He has been beautifully healing my heart,
my spirit, my soul
through grace and unfailing mercy
i am changed by love
and I am taking back my vision
watch me scale the heights see me sit upon the mountain top
cus it is time for me to soar
into my God given dream"


Excerpt from the poem,  I am: A Conversation, Copyright 2008 All Rights Reserved (From the poetry book Nonnie And The Butterfly)

God’s Playin’ Games with My Heart, Again....

I keep losin’.
It was 1am and I was restless.
So, I asked God if He wanted to play cards.
“Sure,” He said.
“But we are going to play with My deck.”
“Your deck, it is then!,” I responded.
We played 21.
He had me beat on the first go ’round.
“I won,” He stated plainly.
He looked at me. I looked at Him.
We both looked down at His winning hand.
There was something in His eyes.
“What is it God?,” I asked.
“21!,” He cried out!
“Hand over a piece of your heart.”
No longer one to quibble with God,
I gave it to Him.
Next, He wanted to roll the dice.
“My dice,” He said. “You go first.”
I rolled a two and a three.
He rolled 2 sevens.
2 sevens?? “God, how is that possible?,” I asked.
“Through Me all things are possible.”
“Of course!,” I chuckled.
“Hand over another piece,” He said gently.
“Gladly, God!,” was my reply.
Then, I said “Let’s play Monopoly!.”
“Ah yes, Monopoly! Now there's a game!,”
He laughed.
I sat back, a bit anxious, excited even.
God seemed particularly calm and cool.
“Ha! He thinks He’s gonna win…again!,”
I thought to myself. Well, alas, He ended up with everything
that I owned and all of my money.
This time He didn’t have to ask….
I handed to Him another piece of my
now rapidly disappearing heart.
I must admit, at this point I was gettin’ a bit weary.
These games were taking forever!
And they were never as easy as I thought
they were going to be. Somewhere at the halfway point, well,
there always seemed to be a “twist.”
I said, “God, are you tired yet?.”
He looked me dead square in the eyes and responded,
“No. And you aren’t either. You have my strength.
Break out the Backgammon Board!!.”
So, I did.
“Now, this is really my game!,” I smiled to myself.
Analytical. Complicated.
I was energized!
An hour later, my pieces were positioned
nicely on the board.
I was winning!
Well, there was one teensy weensy problem.
It was God's turn to throw the dice.
And one of my pieces remained
on God's side!
Would He knock my piece out with one throw?
Could He? (Silly question, I would surely realize later in life.)
I held my breath.
“Well, what could I do?,” I pondered.
Absolutely nothing. The dice were in Gods hands.
Amazing! He landed on my last piece!
“How does He do that?,” I said, out loud and to no one in particular.
“Simple,” I thought to myself.
“His hand never fails!”
How extraordinarily simple.
It is the only way with Him.
“Well, God,” I said, “Here’s another piece.”
I looked down at my heart’s resting place.
It was then that I realized that I had just given Him the last lil’ bit.
I thought that I saw Him smile.
I am sure of it.
He looked through my eyes and asked, “Are you worried?
Your heart is mine now, you know..”
“I know. And, no God, I’m not worried. You won fair and square. I
would
be happy for you to keep it forever,” I said. “Okay,” He said. “Time
to rest. I will wake you in the morning.
You have a big day ahead of you.”
“Really? What’s going to happen tomorrow, God?,” I asked.
He responded, “You will see. Just be content for now.
I have it all under control. It’s in my hands.”
So was my heart.
I slept peacefully.

amen
 
*please be so kind as to read this as a metaphor. gosh, i've had a guts full of the "God doesn't play dice comments!" it. is. a. metaphor.  to me this poem is about pride, its about wisdom, faith, humility, its about our search for God, trying to get to know Him the best way we know how. and then He steps in to help! in His way. His timing. its about God's love and patience.  and how He overrules, gently and one piece at a time, the crap in our own hearts. for the good of the individuals, for others. commune. with the God of your destiny!*
 
Copyright 2008 Regina Y. Evans All Rights Reserved (from the poetry book Nonnie And the Butterfly)

yesterday

there was a time
yesterday
when i thought that
the joy of an embrace
would melt my soul
i hungered for a glance that would
see the beauty of my eyes, my lips
i dreamed of the day
yesterday
when i could wake and
gently kiss the
eyelids of my lover
walking my fingers across
his soul
brushing the curve of his back
with my spirit
this morning
today
my heart yearns to see the
face of the
divine Father
His pure presence
the simplicity of His love
leaving me awash in
unfathomable delight
here, now
today
my soul wishes to know
the beauty of my Master
to free fall into His spirit, wrapped in His arms,
safely nestled under His wing
fully aware that He is
incapable of not loving me
yesterday, today, tomorrow
i belong to Him

amen
 
*i wrote this poem such a long time ago now...2004....and then included it in my first poetry book in 2008!  i still love this poem. it keeps me focused on what is necessary, what is true, what is right. love. true love, its necessary*
 
Copyright 2008 Regina Y. evans All Rights Reserved (from the poetry book Nonnie And The Butterfly)

the garden life

i was listening to a sermon by td jakes. for some christian folks they will know him as a prominent preacher. well, i don't exactly go to church..much. pretty much never anymore. so i kinda know him as the "youtube" preacher! he has some really great sermons. anyway, i was listening to this sermon the other day and he said this "there are those of you who have grown to despise your own heart." and as those word floated out of his mouth they pinged me in my spirit. hard.......


.....he said that those with a huge capacity to love often feel weak..because they get knocked over, abused, betrayed etc, etc. i know all of these things...as do many of us. i have wanted to be a warrior kinda chick. but in truth i am not. i am not the "imma pray against you" type of chick. I am more the "im gonna pray for you and help you even though you tried to screw my life up" kinda chick. and truth be told...that is a painful posture. however.......




.......when i heard those words...it just felt so great. so i have decided to stop despising my heart of love and to stop wishing for a warrior chicks heart. i don't have it. i have really tried. ive been extremely angry that i dont have that kinda heart, in fact! however, as i ponder...wow...am i glad that i am not burdened with such a thing. hearts like that can be prime territory for pride. ive seen it. up close and personal. a terrible beast it can be. even seems like strength. but doesn't Christ say "my power is made perfect in your weakness?" so, hey, i reckon that He, Christ, is on to something and i rather flow in that river. 
 

....so in my attempt to not wanna entertain a beast in my spirit...i've decided to LOVE my heart of love. to delve into it more. see what this thing in me is all about. i reckon the best place to do so is in a beautiful garden.

stay true. to you.

everything thing gon be alright.


the heart should always remember to laugh and smile. it is what it is. love.

LOVE

Monday, November 22, 2010

A Friend Named Trust


this morning as the sun tickled my spirit awake
it dawned on me that i had never thanked it for its divine power
its rays never fail to embrace my face with a calming warmth
incapable of forsaking my smile
each moment my soul trusts
in its illuminating beauty

at the noon hour as i passed by a fragrant field of flowers
i realized that i had never bowed down to its glory
its loveliness never ceasing to delight
unable to not bless my desiring eye
every minute my heart trusts
in the love of its
embracing aroma

as darkness falls the faithful moon will remind the sky of pure beauty
teaching the stars lessons of wisdom and strength
they will learn that God’s lunar expects nothing
seeking only to give the gift of light, of life

in appreciation,
i will lift my hands in praise
honoring the free flowing love
which has set my being upon the heights
i will hold my friend named Trust gently as He leaves
a trail of grace and faith upon my heart
forever kissing Him in gratitude

amen

Copyright 2008 Regina Y. Evans All Rights Reserved (from the poetry book Nonnie And The Butterfly)


You Know

dear Lord
where have my eyes been
where has my spirit rested
how could I have denied myself
the delight of loving you
i have no words
but, yet you know

i wake in the day’s dawn
loving you
completely
sending kisses
towards the heavens
as my lids shut
to the night’s darkness
boldly in love
yes
you know

dear Lord
do you hear the love
in my heart
can you see the desire
in my eyes
are you sensing the delight
in my soul
i ask you
do you know
you know

is my love
for you definable
please understand
i ache to know you
to see the beauty of your grace
do you know
dear Father
you know

the love of my heart
is profoundly
beyond thought surpassing comprehension
it is the peace of
resting in your
gentle wing
the sweetness of your
warm embrace
do you feel the depths
of my love
for you
i can give you
nothing
in comparison to the
love, joy, mercy
that has been placed in my
being
yet
you love me so
how wonderful
because
you know

you know

Copyright 2008 Regina Y. Evans All Rights Reserved (From the published book Nonnie And The Butterfly)

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Free Fallin'


sometimes

evry once in a moonshine blue
the soul tingles a
"man dis here s'alright. it s'alright now chile"
sing it! smile me tenderly. joy!


me, my babies
unusual birth rebirth
theys here now. ain't that cool?!

wrapped in the wondrous
how i got over

and let me tell ya'll
wasnt nuthin easy bout it,
getting here
to the afterbirth zone
listen to me tell,
i had ta fight mightily,
struggle for des here lil ones
(and fo me too)
deys mine, i der momma for sure
eye's born, theys born too
at a great price
ain't no falseness in that spin

didn't hardly
no body wanna know,
or unerstand
but you,
 (and a few)
Lawd
thank you kindly, Sir.

wHooo weeE,
here me when i say,
me and mine, progeny
scratched, clawed, softly
up from the earth's core
eyes leaking salt,
hurt but steady
 the whole way,
and that's a long yard while

i remember!
we's all hanged on ta my back
fer da ride, wudn't let go,
wrapped up inside my womb
and back again
worked as one, me and my mine
had to.

wanted desperately to see,
breathe the light of freely

ran, ran, and some mo'
kep it up
like pace arrows

on some 24 days
we moved so fast that
we beat the devil running!
now we keep breezin
on unexplainable peace
yes. thank ya. Jesus man
yous s'alright.

i watch, i'm watching
 my babies
float on my fingertips,
they scribbling out a
new taste
necessary
the triple unbroken circle
smiled

me too
culdn't help it
cus Lawd, i's wild
and freely

free fallin


Copyright 2010 Regina Y. Evans All Rights Reserved (From the published book "Nothing Cool about Ten" by Regina Y. Evans. Available http://www.smashwords.com/)







BoooOwwww

if you are building your life, ministry, organization, country, family, etc without a great and deep abiding love for those actually in your sphere...what, in fact, have you gained? anything at all? something of truth? think. think. can you reach for love and, at the same time, erase another's heart? there was once a song. some hated it. some thought of it "Wow!"  i remember it well. went something like this : "ice ice baby, too cold, too cold." Brrrrrrrr.

Pride. it is a dream stealer. and if you are ever faced with it head on? keep walking in love, stay humble (though it may hurt), hold fast to your dreams, do what cha gotta do. Basically this: LIVE, LOVE, LAUGH.

Smile. Don't forget to smile.

peace

Sunday, November 14, 2010

"The Man In The Arena" by Teddy Roosevelt (Quote)

Note: It is so easy to look at someone on their path and throw the darts of criticism at their head, back, sides, etc. But what I admire is someone who "gets in the game". "Win" or "Lose". Because either way? Wisdom has whispered in that person's ear.
Have a read of the quote below. It so spoke to my heart. And a hearty "Here! Here!" to all the folks out there who dare to STEP. -peace


"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat." Teddy Roosevelt, "The Man in the Arena"