I wrote this article back in 2009 about a boy. Yup, he was a boy - not quite a man at that time. And while it didn't end the way I wanted it to... I wasn't afraid at this time to be vulnerable. Now that it's 2013, two months into the year, approaching Valentine's Day, I am experiencing some of the same feelings with someone but this time I hope it's different. There is a friendship that allows me to be me. When I poke out my bottom lip or sit in silence, I'm not always catered to. And that to me is important. If you do everything to make sure that I think you are right for me, then you aren't being yourself. I am not right all the time and challenging me shows that you have a mind of your own and that you will be able to step in when its time to make decisions for me when I might not be able to. The dating game is just that - it's a game - but I'm learning life lessons daily. Whether its learning patience, learning to apologize, accept the things I cannot change, or being there to listen, it's new. And for now it's actually - through the few tears and headaches, ups and downs, time spent apart... it's refreshing. It's not quite a relationship but the friendship that is being established is one of respect and has a foundation of raw realness which isn't usual but ... it's exactly what I need right now. So, because I'm learning to keep the personal things to myself, especially when it comes to growing relationships...I won't share the poems I've written recently...but will share some from the past. Enjoy!
It's Refreshing...
By Donielle Jones
It’s refreshing!
He calls it a breath of fresh air…
I call it giving in and letting the “it” factor occur.
It’s opening your third eye to see that maybe at this moment you are supposed to be breathing..
You are supposed to be inhaling his theories of life and listening to hear his soul through the beat of his drum…
Tick, tick, clack…the snare; the clang of his cymbal is supposed to awaken and enlighten the you once reflected in mirrors that looked like the Goddess you were born to be.
My pharaoh 09’, ironic…met in the ICE age, slept on leopard prints, in a cave, surrounded by the drawings of a history’s past.
Could this be…so soon to believe in love…but I’ll be damn if I can’t say it…
But he’s SIMPLY and Complex…balled up into a mold of…AHHHHH ( exhale ) REFRESHING!
Spitting knowledge kings can’t teach their sons, living a past not proud but learned forward movement from…
Not built to be incarcerated, mind , body, or soul,
Imprisonment of one’s mind; is not his story told.
I heard the sound of pure poetic justice and layed hands on flesh thinking of just – us…
His whispers of tomorrows promise, his sullen deep voice bassed my belly…as he fed me with his gift…of words that is.
And I listened beyond my ears and took notes to align on this staff to compose a song so rich, pyramid’s gold couldn’t touch.
The energy, so strong I forgot he was not in the room until I opened my eyes…and massaged my fingers…
Because he inspired a melody that caused me to play ALL my keys in A-minor…
Not an easy note, but with precise instruction could b the start of a masterpiece!
My eyelids heavy from time lit by gazing stars…
Goodnight does not end our conversation because tomorrow is today…
“‘Round midnight”…
His John Coltrane to my Jill Scott…
I hope we continue tomorrow…
I want to make music.
