write about the little things

As some of you know, last September, I published a poetry collection that encompassed a season of my life in which I found everything changing. Some of it was bitter and some of it was sweet. I wrote and published the majority of that collection last summer before its publication in the fall. It seems that now, summer is the time I like to write poetry. And in the fall I write novels haha.

With that being said, a second poetry collection is well underway, and I have shared some of my new work with you already on my Instagram and this blog. The latest poem I shared strange flaunt, but alas / pink is written in its full unedited form below. I wrote this post not necessarily to share the poem, but to share why I wrote it.

These sorts of poems are the ones I write that seem small and insignificant but I know  can have a larger, societal impact. I say this mainly because the social impact is the main reason it was written.

I wrote a poem about the color pink and my ever-changing and evolving feelings and opinions towards it. You might think this is silly and fragmented of me to write about. And perhaps it is, but I found after finishing it, that it wasn’t just about a color or how I felt about it. It was and still is about how we let little things like colors or shapes or ideas form societal concepts and boxes around us. Sometimes, these are harmful. Sometimes, they are inaccessible. Sometimes, they just exist with no apparent effect. They are a lot of things. Things I am just now beginning to understand.

All I know is that when I was in middle school and high school, I loathed the color pink because of its connotation. It made me too much of a girl. When the girls talked in the bathroom, pink was taboo. You didn’t talk about pink just like you didn’t talk about kissing or your period. Now, I have a fondness of the color, as I feel I should have a fondness for anything God has made. Even if it is just a color. Even if not everyone can see it or feel about it the way I do. If we are going to write about things we are not entirely comfortable writing about, it helps to start with small things.

So here is the poem, and if you would like to tell me about a relationship you have with a color, I would love to hear/read about it.

 

strange flaunt, but alas 

/ pink 

 

When she walks into the room,

we pretend not to know her. 

Don’t you remember the rules? 

We treat her like slumber,

no one sees when we enjoy her. 

The rules say that you are 

“too much of a girl” if you wear her. 

Coral and bubblegum are for the younger,

the older, not of the vibrant and of the lover. 

The rules say if you like her you also like boys,

but not the right boys. 

All the boys, the boys who sing

and the boys with side-swept hair, 

the princes and the paupers fair. 

If you are her, 

you are pretty, not smart

You are smiles and bubblegum pops,

crossed out with pens 

and a room full of man’s laughter. 

Or is it the girls that are laughing? 

I hear them gathered around the bathroom sinks, 

and they say through diamond-lined teeth, 

 “I hate the color pink.” 

But I’ve found, by the age of nineteen

that I love a coral colored bath and a blushing sky, 

a raspberry morning and carnation afternoons, 

lip-glossed evenings and lilac-smoked midnights. 

When she walks into the room, I know her. 

She is a bouquet of roses that were not sent to me by a boy. 

I bought them for myself, for my mother,

for the older and the younger and for the lover. 

I love her even when she is blisters 

and mosquito bites and sunburns. 

God would not create a color 

He meant for us to hate 

or scorn 

or attribute 

to 

girl.  

It is strange, 

the ways in which we flaunt. 

But alas, 

we are 

girl

 

also, peep the return of my art journal lol. For more about my poetry visit its page on amazon

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