Jason Reynolds's Blog, page 10

Day 30 of 30!!!

MOSAIC

if i gave you a pile of me

in bit and break

could you try not to replace them

but place them maybe not

where they were

but where they go?

and could you teach me to step back

far from me and see with your eyes

the visible fracture

between chip and shard

as masterpiece?

Day 29 of 30

SPECIAL EDUCATION (in two haikus, sorta)

Student:

When I got up there 

And did my poem I felt

Like I had power

Teacher:

And how do you feel

Now that the poem is done?

Student:

Like I’m a poem

Day 28 of 30

SASHA AND MALIA

remember your time in the castle

your fingers dragging along the walls

down the corridors

playing jump-jump over

ornate picture frames

of 43 white

and your daddy

remember your daddy

and your mama

and how their tears

were not your business

and their hugs

were still their hugs

and their kisses

made a cold place warm

and grandma still smelling

like powder and

dish soap and

discipline and

anchor

remember your time in the castle

remember playing catch me

if you can around the pillars

as you grow into them

as you grow into you

and go into you

and go out into

your world

and as you pack

remember

please remember us

and leave some laughter

tucked in your daddy’s desk drawer

and some greasy hair-ties

around the doorknobs

and your toys

hidden like amulets

under the tuft

Day 27 of 30

WEIGHT

such a long trek

balancing a heavy

basket of expectation

on my head

but balance ain’t

the problem

the problem

be my eggshell legs

Day 26 of 30

UNTITLED

there is nothing

on the road between memphis

and jackson

there is nothing

but big sky

and fields of green bristle

and flags hanging

hanging

star crossed

star-crossed

and there is nothing

that can stop me

from thinking

about whether or not

my DNA is in the dirt

out there

if there are tributaries

of my juvenile blood

running like veins

bubbling beneath earth’s scalp

if the spirits of my folks

have caught the wind

out there

have caught wind

of my arrival

and limped the flags

just for me

just this once

to keep me brave

there is nothing

that can stop me

im thinking

there is nothing

that can stop me

im laughing

there is nothing

there is nothing

but the green grass

growing all around

all around

Day 25 of 30

HAIKU/CONVERSATION OVER DRINKS WITH FELLOW WRITERS

But have you ever

tried to write a picture book?

Bet you can’t do it.

Day 24 of 30

AN OCCASIONAL REMINDER 

and they

dont understand

dont make no sense to them

how shine stick on us

and we stick on shine

how we seem to

care more and more and

care less and less

how our torsos be tinted plexi

casing strobing spirits

how our mouths be both

artwork and arsenal

how our limbs be spring-loaded

and our necks be

blocks of cement

and our tears gather

like sunday dinner

in clapboard houses

both eating us

and keeping us

dont make no sense

no damn sense

to them

Day 23 of 30

STILL THINKING ABOUT PRINCE

i just can’t help

but think what beauty

a boy becomes

if unchallenged

unchastised

for trying mama’s heels

just because it’s fun

just because he’s five

Day 22 of 30

PRINCE

(the truth is, i hate this poem. but i’m stuck. the only poem truly necessary is…THANK YOU. I’m so sad. But I feel so lucky to have lived when he lived. to have experienced his gift. to know that his work is tethered to my psyche and soul forever. rest well.)

give us starfish and coffee too

a beautiful one in computer blue

a sign that somehow  we’ll someday have you back

and until you come let us dance like bats

on red corvettes in fancy hats

unsure of what we’re supposed to do

while purple fades to black

Day 21 of 30

SHIFT

(for the students who staged the incredible protest Brendan and I were allowed to be part of at a high school in Brooklyn yesterday)

bottle rocket babies

locked in safes unsafe

buried beneath belittling

eventually explode

fuses aint but so long

besides they were

made to be tectonic

fireworks that scream

and star and spark

into the ether

and the ethos

of the

shovel-handed

who will someday

shake and wobble

their legs will wishbone

as the quo violently splits

and bottle rocket babies

the minors

will be miners

of their own fire

though always

always blamed for a fault

line they had no part

in creating