What You Need Thursdays!

I stumbled across this picture a few weeks ago and figured this is exactly what we needed to make it through the day.


Happy Thursday!


What You Need Thursdays!

Here’s another poem I studied in High School. This week I noticed the early signs of Spring so what better way to welcome the new season than with a poem about flowers? Enjoy!

A Contemplation upon Flowers by: Henry King

Brave flowers that I could gallant it like you,
And be as little vain!
You come abroad, and make a harmless show,
And to your beds of earth again.
You are not proud: you know your birth:
For your embroider’d garments are from earth.

You do obey your months and times, but I
Would have it ever Spring:
My fate would know no Winter, never die,
Nor think of such a thing.
O that I could my bed of earth but view
And smile, and look as cheerfully as you!

O teach me to see Death and not to fear,
But rather to take truce!
How often have I seen you at a bier,
And there look fresh and spruce!
You fragrant flowers! then teach me, that my breath
Like yours may sweeten and perfume my death.



of my naked attacker

I’m in looove with this blog. Here’s a story for women walking alone and some self defense info


This is a story from about a year ago, which is when I had just moved into the last house I lived in. It was a few blocks away from the mister’s house (which is where I live now). It was also around the same time I started working at this hell hole of an office. In fact, it may have been the first month of my new found love for western formals and high heels.

I was working late that night, so it was 10:30 by the time I got home. I had no energy to cook, so the mister offered to save some food for me. I was to call him when I reached home, and he would bring it to me while he walked his dog. Yes, he’s sweet like that.

Since it was late, I had to park a little far from home, in a dimly lit corner next to a park. I would normally…

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For My Mother (May I Inherit Half Her Strength)

Did this poem in high school. It’s one of my favourites!

The Books of My Numberless Dreams

My mother loved my father
I write this as an absolute
in this my thirtieth year
the year to discard absolutes

he appeared, her fate disguised,
as a sunday player in a cricket match,
he had ridden from a country
one hundred miles south of hers.

She tells me he dressed the part,
visiting dandy, maroon blazer,
cream serge pants, seam like razor
and the beret and the two-tone shoes.

My father stopped to speak to her sister,
till he looked and saw her by the oleander,
sure in the kingdom of my blue-eyed grandmother.
He never played the cricket match that day.

He wooed her with words and he won her.
He had nothing but words to woo her,
on a visit to distant Kingston he wrote,

“I stood on the corner of King Street and looked,
and not one woman in that town was lovely as you.”


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Weekly Doodle: Sophisticated

The word of the day was Sophisticated.


It took me a while to come up with a doodle idea then it hit me. Workplaces can’t handle the increase in the number of naturalistas. There is a debate as to what natural hairstyles are appropriate for the office. Here’s what I say. My hair is not straight, it doesnt lay flat and I’m not always going to want to have my hair in twists or canerows/cornrows. Sometimes the wild, I-just-rolled-out-of-bed look is exactly what I’m going for. That doesn’t mean I’m not work ready. My hair and the hair of other black women like myself is just a talented ball of coils. You can’t compare my grooming practices with those of someone with relaxed hair or a different texture of hair. My hair is SOPHISTICATED.