Poetry by Farah Lawal Harris

Posts tagged “inspired

Some Men


So I was on one of my new favorite poetry blogs (shout out to my sister, iWrite!) and this poem of hers inspired me to write the one below.  I am calling it “Some Men”:

some men give crazy love
that leaves women questioning “what is love?”
and if love is this feeling in my gut, then
what’s the big deal about it?
why do people chase it,
beg to taste in like a delicious gourmet meal
when sometimes it is sour?

some men are e. coli to the mind,
causing a disgusting purge of tears,
emotion and an intake of fear
that extending oneself always leads to sickness,
heart aches, soul breaks
and mistakes realized too late.

some men give crazy schizophrenic love,
have us talking to the air
as if they were there,
hugging pillows and kissing insides of elbows
and whispering words to their spirits
too shut down to even listen.

but girl,
some men love us sane.
cause us to look in the mirror
and realize that we are enough
and always have been,
that we are not the cause
of everything that happened back then,
that we don’t deserve insanity
and that even though
we were crazy at one point,
it made us who we are today.

Advertisements

The Miracle of Inspiration


have you ever been so inspired that your body goes into shock?
like regular thought becomes as difficult as
a mandatory marathon to run right after
stuffing your face at Mickey D’s
and regardless of how hard you lift and drop your feet to
move miles away from the inspiration,
it chases you and reminds you to breathe
in and out the fresh air of new ideas.
ideas are like sewing machines,
systematically stitching together
the ripped up pieces of my life.
it’s simple–
that break-up was a zipper and
that trauma was a button and
graduating from college was a French seam,
a rare kind of luxuruy.

after receiving the aforementioned inspiration,
i came home to find that my diploma arrived that day–
evidence that after 6 years of undergrad,
i finally did graduate.
the diploma sat in a slim cylindirical cardboard cage
tightly locked by metal on both sides like a jail cell,
showing me that the things worth fighting for
are often attained by busting through doors.
my father pried at this almost impossible-to-open container
with a knife barely able to contain
his excitement
to witness firsthand the evidence
of his oldest daughter’s accomplishment.
he noted that he was more anxious than me
and worked carefully,
cutting around the metal circle on what he guessed was the up-side.
when he finally gets it open, he slides
the shiny thick piece of paper rolled up like a poster out
and begins to read each Old English font typed word out
loud.
his eyes tear up when he gets to the name
that he gave me almost 24 years before:
Farah Lolade Lawal,
which literally means
“Joy” “Wealth has come” “The first”
and i stop being stuck on my earlier inspiration.
then i realize that i am his inspiration
and that i am living out dreams he never could.
i too get excited about the piece of paper that was paid for
by thousands of dollars, tears and sleepless nights.
so reading in unison with my Daddy like we did when i was 5,
i begin to appreciate every letter, word, phrase and signature
and i vow on this night
to continue to reach for greatness,
to not only be inspired by others but
to be inspiration.