This book was 15 years in the making. I wrote poetry, keeping them in spiral notebooks and pads. Hoping one day I’d have a home for them. I realized a couple years ago after having a near fatal medical issue, that “one day” better become “today.” The Shaping of an “Angry” Black Woman is my first poetry collection, where I’m discussing different aspects of life that has shaped me. It’s not all anger and vitrol. I’m much more than at. We all are. The title is more taking a stab at the popular isotype of the “angry black woman” portrayed over and over again in American media. Fortunately, Sakura Publishing believed in my vision, and now I’m proud to say, my book is available for pre-order on their site right now. It goes on sale March 25th.
I wanted to share a poem with you today. This one is about an old crush. Kinda.
The Birth of Soul
I want to expel your wisdom from my insides,
let my abdomen expand into the fullness of your politics.
My dormant maternal instincts gears to life with a suddenness,
presses the air from my lungs,
my inner thighs quiver with anticipation.
Mind whispers caution,
to protect myself,
but my womb contracts as your voice,
whiskey soaked and $3 packs of cheap cigarettes roughened,
penetrates my every orifice,
bridging this gap between stark lifeless reality.
Pressing deep with words of alternate universes,
elevated consciousness dipped and tinged with crude levity
and a frank disregard
for my need to keep my senses.
As the angels and demons, who dance in your head
slip from your tongue,
into my blood stream,
intoxicating me, and my heart races.
Infusing me with their lust visions of nirvana,
And my mortal soul weeps.
My breasts grow heavy and warm.
With your stylized world.
Tapping into my ovaries.
Your rich timbers triggering my eggs,
Traveling down my fallopian tubes,
matriculating as your words
move like light beams
wriggling, infusing my womb
With you.
I feel the spark as your ideas take root deep inside me,
growing, stretching, reaching
taking me to the pinnacle and beyond.
Beyond where sanity lives,
and I grow full with opinions,
your fiery rants, skewed view,
and I have to expel them,
I grab a pen,
Clench my teeth, bearing down,
I grab a pen,
Clench my teeth, bearing down,
pushing beyond my limits,
self-imposed boundaries
And I scrawl, grunting,
sweating in
this damn heat,
Until I birth these words.
Tamara Woods was raised (fairly happily) in West Virginia, where she began writing poetry at the age of 12. She has previous experience as a newspaper journalist, an event organizer, volunteer with AmeriCorps and VISTA, in addition to work with people with disabilities. She has used her writing background to capture emotions and moments in time for anthologies such as Empirical Magazine, her blog PenPaperPad and writing articles as a full-time freelance writer. She is a hillbilly hermit in Honolulu living with her Mathemagician
Bards’ Verdict: She writes so that you can nearly FEEL the things she’s describing, and you can see precisely, in your mind’s eye, what she means. And look – a PUBLISHED poet, no less. Kudos, Tamara.
The Well Tempered Bards 