by Mella Davis | Feb 4, 2021 | Poetry
Disposable Things This poem is autobiographical. My uncle, Roosevelt Green, aka, Ninny was a slender, handsome man. Born sixth of eleven children, he most physically resembled my grandfather. After losing my grandfather, Uncle Roosevelt lived in my parents’ home. He...
by Mella Davis | Feb 4, 2021 | Poetry
Who welcomed you? One of our greatest fears revolves around rejection. The need for welcome and reception are central to feeling accepted, knowing that we belong. But we were empowered to do that most important work ourselves- to welcome ourselves to this alien world....
by Mella Davis | Feb 4, 2021 | Poetry
Tending My Soul Sometimes, your very soul needs to breathe. Is there an app for that? Well, there is a poem for it. Enjoy. Tending my soullike the small potted Daffodil on kitchen ledgewhile the Bougainvillea outdoorsplurges and spills over the white washed walls into...
by Mella Davis | Feb 4, 2021 | Poetry
Ol’ Woman You can tell a lot about a person just by looking them in the face: the lines, crow’s feet, wrinkles, warts, and moles are the typography of a life. Tragedy’s wisdom and future’s courage are written there. A young lady, not accustomed to slavery’s venom,...
by Mella Davis | Feb 4, 2021 | Poetry
Ode to a Skin Head Even the most loathsome person has a soul, and that soul has a story. Each life has a backstory- that doesn’t excuse choice but makes room for repentance and change. Hitler is your heroYou say, ‘therewere no death camps’beating blindlydefenseless...
by Mella Davis | Feb 4, 2021 | Poetry
Easter Morn’ Toast Black preachers have a way about them- their posturing, wringing of sweat-laden handkerchiefs, and that definite treble in their voices. Actors and orators both, they can bring alive deep truths and make them resonate in our souls. This morning’s...
