Standing in their absence

I stand in place of those who have passed on

I breathe their breath...smell of their scent

when lathering my spirit with bits of their goodness

I graciously accept the baton...the weight 

the load...the burden so to speak

for they wouldn't have passed it my way

if I couldn't carry it to the next generation

I stand in place, like a soldier at attention

I see through their eyes...born into me 

when establishing my home with pillars of love

I fiercely guard it like a gate-keeper of ancient times

contemporary times...anytime there is pending danger

for strangers find out quickly

how close they can approach the threshold

I stand in place of those who cared for me

prepared for me long before they knew of me

I stand in place of those who on their knees 

became foot stools for me to stand taller

I stand in place of those who have passed on

by Shonnese C.L. Coleman

We Are the Water

Somewhere in our element of truth

the rushing wet reveals its presence

we are the water...nothing shall we fear.

Below the earth and beyond the sky 

we gather together to plan our performance.

The clouds...ohhhh...they weep 

as the Dead Sea washes our ancestors away...

I said we are the water...nothing shall we fear.

In mommies womb we float in warmth

and pull the cord of life

when the timing comes to face the sun

we rapidly swim through her tunnel.

Oh yes! I know we are the water

nothing shall we fear

by Shonnese C.L. Coleman

1st published in The Stride of Our Walk...Th Root of Our Stand A Collection of Performance Poetry

No flipflops walking these corridors

No flipflops walking these corridors 

 only hard bottoms so you hear me coming 

 steps tick a louder tock no running 

 but the running is so needed we bleed red not blue 

 No flipflops walking these corridors 

 only hard bottom shoes

 to find the hard ground in truths

to step all over each others shoes

truths...blues... all day everyday in the news 

beg no pardons to panhandle pushers 

No flipflops walking these corridors 

- by Louis Waweru & Shonnese C.L. Coleman

That night at Mama Juana's

When we dance on that crowded floor
the vibration is something science can't explain
and the sweat that shrinks our hair glistens
like a disco ball above our heads
and our feet syncopated
with the clave, drums and trombone
are speaking a languare familiar and from the heart
and before we catch our breath
the band has taken it up a notch
all the while invoking the ancestral intensity
of Tito, Celia and the rest of our familia
our arms intertwined, hold, flick, flip and dip
of course never losing the connection
and somehow our hips got involved
and began to move magically on their own
and although we are fully clothed
it feels like we are naked 2 year olds playing in the garden
and if we knew what immense joy felt like...
this would be it...this would definitely be it...

by Shonnese C.L. Coleman
First Published in REVELATION ART Poems