Drastic Revision

This is a remake of my first imagery/density piece! A little cheesy, and definitely less heavy than the original.

July

Booming colors, ooh's and ahh's
Salty air and sandy feet
Shining grins and open arms
Good ole' Pop and little me.

Excitement faded as I saw the light
In your eyes slowly dwindle,
A light that my ocean treasures and
Toothless smiles would never rekindle.

The kaleidoscope sky
Has become black and white,
Booms mimick the ache felt in my chest
When you had to say goodbye.

Drastic Revision

            Before the revision I made the story as if the main character Angela was dreaming, this is what I changed it to.

           

            “Hey Ang. Let me speak to your dad?”

“Hey grand mom, okay how’s mom?”

“You’re mom is…The phone goes blank.

            Everything runs through Angela’s head. She does not know what to think. What is going on? Is mom alright?  Oh please let my mom be okay? Angela’s grandmom calls back in tears.

            “Hey Aaron. I have some bad news. Cameron is not doing well. Could you break it to the girls that Cameron is…is… in a comma. I’ll be over in a little.”

            “I’m so sorry to hear that. I will definitely let them know. “Their father replies.

            The girls get home for school and see their father sitting on the couch with his hands in his head.

            “Girls come sit, I have to tell you something. It’s about your mom,” he says hesitantly.

              “What? What about mom is she coming home?” Anisa says anxiously.

                “Sweetie, no she’s not coming home. She’s stuck in her sleep, so she has to stay in the hospital so they can monitor her and help wake up.”

            Angela knew exactly what her dad meant by she was stuck in her sleep. She began to burst in tears. In denial she screams “No, No, No!” Falling into her dads arms.

            A few weeks go by, as Angela begins to get used to being able to do certain things on her own with little to no help from her father. He has been more of a help now that they have found out the news, but Angela insist on doing things on her own because she knows that is what her mom wanted. She now picks her and her sisters clothes out, knows how to wash clothes, and cleans her own room sometimes even parts of the house.

            “If only mom could see me now. I could hear her say now I’m proud of you honeybunchie. That’s all I want right now, is to hear her voice.”

            Angela goes to the hospital after asking her dad and grandmom if she can go visit her mom to just talk to her and let her know what has been going on. She goes to the hospitals and sits with her mom for hours. Talking about how much Anisa is growing, how much closer they were getting to their dad and about how she was doing in school. She then goes about telling her mom how independent she is becoming.

            “ Mom I’m doing what you wanted. I’m helping out around the house more. I pick out Anisa and I’s clothes... and guess what?! I know how to the laundry all by myself now, I don’t change the colors or shrink clothes anymore! Aren’t you proud of me? I’m sorry for all the things I said before you got sick. I realize now that you were just trying to help me and not be a nag. All I want now is for you to wake up. Please mom! Please...just wake up! Do you hear me I need you?! Angela says bursting into tears and holding her mother’s hand.

            As her father goes to take her away, Angela feels a grasp. Life shocks her hand like a strong bolt of electricity.

            Her mom begins to wake up.

Revised version? 

#OG

In the neighborhood of Montjoy, you’d fall into one of the four categories:

The 6:50 a.m. soccer moms driving very carefully around the roundabout in minivans, the 6:51-6:56 a.m. kids walking from every angle towards the epicenter, the 6:57 a.m. those fantasizing of becoming the next “DK” (drift king) from the next fast and furious, roar their engines and slam their accelerator to beat the same, sluggish, yellow bus with 179 slapped onto the side as it squeaks its way into the neighborhood or the 6:58 a.m. people calling work to inform them of their tardiness.

We were once those kids at 6:56 a.m. but no longer and never will be again, my friends and I learned our ways around the neighborhood over the past seven years. Now seniors in high school, we’d all had drivers licenses and were too cool for a school bus.

Every morning of our last year was the same routine…

With both hands on the steering wheel she’d yell, “Next time ya’ll wake up late, ya’ll walking yo a**es up to school.”

“LOVE YOU AMANDA!” we’d yell back with huge grins on our faces until we’d hear the first late bell ring and Ranya’s face would freeze.

“Damn it!” she’d say “My mom’s going to kill me if I’m late… again,” as she’d sigh, fogging up the back right window.

“Calm down Ranya! It’s only your second. I already have morning detention L-O-L!” I’d yell back.

I was never a bad student and I’d only get into trouble for two reasons: One, for being tardy. Of course! You would think the school would want their kids to arrive safely, not parked crooked and out of breath. Two, skipping class to have our daily meet ups in the bathroom to talk about our plans after school. Plans usually included the raiding the content of each of our refrigerators because their house was mine and mine was theirs.

Amanda, Daphenie, and I had all met in the fifth grade and always met outside of our neighborhood. We were always home alone because of our hardworking single mothers, but we didn’t mind as much. With our mom’s not being home, we were allowed to drop our backpacks by the door and play outside. As time passed, we had picked up another friend in our growing relationship. Ranya had joined our middle school class in the middle of seventh grade.

Home Away from Home

It's my second home.
The place I go to relieve stress,
where I have the most fun.
The sound of little and big pitter patter on the dance room floor.
Tapping and slapping all around the room.
Great vibes and little to no tension around.
It's warm and cozy.
And feels just like home.
I spent six hours a day here and 10 on the weekends.

"I can't because I have dance" was my favorite line.

What I smell and what you smell are different,
the smell of underarm sweat
no longer bothers me because it's embedded in my nose.
Waling up o the red door that says "Progressive Center for Dance"
was the highlight of my day. Walking up the steps and hearing
the sounds of Hi's and Hello's and being warmingly welcomed every day.

The sound of Ballet music in one room
and Jazz in another soothes my spirit.
A place that properly shows and expresses
"Live.Laugh.Love".

The brown paneling on the wall,
the big mural of PCD on the wall of the dressing room,
painted in different bright colors of the rainbow.
The wood floors, long wide mirrors around the room.
Ballet bar that sits on the window ledge,
the desk where I'm greeted by the owner's sisters,
the small room where all little feet that I teach
dance and prance around. The pictures from past recitals
and trophies from the competition team.
All hold a special place in my heart.
The place that I spend most of my time.

Dance school.
My home away from home.

Come Back

A wave flows uncontrollably in different directions
and fades away
Just the way we were.
We had great times,
others we were just associates.
Now we speak utter silence to one another.
The moments we shared I do cherish,
now that you are not around.
Blind to the love I have for you,
you push me away.

One of the people I thought would always be there.
Says what you need to do but never been there to help you through
The few good times fade away.
I wish you were around to see the young woman I am becoming.

You're alive,
but our relationship is dead.
Hoping to revive it,
I'm troubled just a little bit,
to find the words to express how I feel.
Still I just want to be real.
Come back into my life.
I wanted you to be the one to walk me down the aisle,
but you treat me so foul
at time.
You say not getting a phone call for Christmas is the reason you're mad.
But little did I know it was just an excuse for you not to be my dad.

Before you leave

Don’t forget to salute with a stiff arm and feet together.

Don’t forget where you are and who’s in charge.

Don’t forget your chain of command, *hint* you start with Obama.

Don’t forget to look forward without a smile unless you want to be in a plank for a while.

Don’t forget to pray every night for strength because you have to get up in another hour.

Don’t forget to save some food to eat when you’re starving at night and don’t get caught.

Don’t forget to scrub you’re body with soap before you shower, so you have enough time to rinse it off.

Don’t forget to brush your teeth every night, unlike you do at home.

Don’t forget to make your bed every morning unless you want to go running.

Don’t forget to sleep in socks to slip on your boots faster.

Don’t forget to introduce me to your friends, you know I like guys in uniform.

Don’t forget it’s mind over matter, just breath and tell yourself “I can do it!”

Don’t forget who you are and why you’re there.

And don’t forget it’s only basic training and you’ll be coming home in only three months.

Every life Matters

All has halted. Horns are blaring.

Everyone chanting has hearts racing.

Annoyed at wasted time, blood is boiling.

Signs pass by and people are chanting

“NO JUSTICE, NO PEACE!”

“BLACK LIVES MATTER!”

Videos of violence and viciousness

Has every parent calling.

Facebook and news websites

Have yet to shed light

On the real problems we have today

In that there is injustice to pay

And NOT just for Freddie Gray

But all individuals who aren’t able to say

that every life matters.