On the Wings of the Ancestors

On the Wings of the Ancestors

by Sharon Denise

Paperback

$10.99
View All Available Formats & Editions
Choose Expedited Shipping at checkout for guaranteed delivery by Thursday, April 2

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781463460228
Publisher: AuthorHouse
Publication date: 12/13/2011
Pages: 68
Product dimensions: 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.16(d)

Read an Excerpt

On The Wings of The Ancestors


By Sharon Denise

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2011 Sharon Denise
All right reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4634-6022-8


Chapter One

"2 DADDY"

Wow, "Daddy" was the first "serious" poem I write as an adult. When I read it now, I am reminded of, and surprised by, it's simplistic beauty, yet, powerful emotion it expresses and evokes.

As I sat down to write a recollection of what inspired this poem, I realized that I had already written it—in the form of another poem entitled "2 Daddy:"

    Daddy, it wasn't even the ham or the eggs, perfectly scrambled,
    But, the time spent and shared, the lessons learned
    Affection given, respect shown and returned and
    Loving touches that meant so much

    We talked the GOD-talk
    And you showed me the "righteous" walk
    Stood up for what you believed in
    Said it—you didn't keep it hidden

    Memories bundled together as a collection
    In the innermost part of my heart
    And in the outermost design of my mind
    Played out behind closed eyelids—destined to rewind
    Stored for recollection at a later date and time
    When the atmosphere is prime
    And my personal satisfaction
    To remind of our connection—
    PRICELESS!

    SHARON DENISE
    ©2006

Although my dad crossed over when I was only 13 years old, I think of, and miss his physical presence every day. He taught me so many of my life's lessons in that short period of time, I just wonder what and who I might be if he were still here or had been with me a little bit longer.

There are also some questions I'd ask him if I could: "why did you call me "Chicken?" Is it because of my slim physique? Something that you saw in my spirit? Or, was it just a term of endearment?" "Was my great-grandfather really an "Indian" chief?" "Was another one really the slave master/sire of some of our ancestors?" I really need to know! "How tough was it being you—a proud, light-complexioned, light-eyed, extremely intelligent, GOD-loving, GOD-fearing, family-first, ethical, "set aside," hard-working, so-called "Negro" in that day's America who was loved and admired by all who knew you? I need to know that, too!

Even to this day, July 1, 2006, people still say to me, "He was a prince among men!" (Albert James).

      "DADDY"


    Daddy, Daddy, Daddy
    I miss those early morning scrambled eggs and ham

    Maybe, I'm just missing my old man ...

    I was very young when you left (me)
    Through no fault of your own

    And although you didn't leave me alone,
    Maybe, I'm just missing my old man

    (Scrambled eggs and ham ...
        Scrambled eggs and ham)

©1997

"Mommy"

Dear Mommy,

I miss you. Every minute of every day. I speak to you often—just wish I could hear your earthly voice along with the one in my heart and consciousness. I remember you always saying after Mamo crossed over, "If I could just hear her voice once more." I know exactly how you felt.

It was and still is difficult to write poetry for and about you. I don't know why. But, there is still so much left unsaid that I feel incomplete. However, I draw upon your strength daily and continuously strive to understand lessons and teachings that I had not quite grasped. I'm sorry. Sorry for the things I did that went against your teaching and for the things that I did not do.

Recalling stories of old that you shared with me gave me a little insight into a difficult childhood and the strides you made against the many trials and tribulations that you faced. (That's another story, in another book, at a later date). With those revelations, and God, I now understand you much better.

I marvel at the person that you were and the way you were able to rise up out of the quicksand that could have, should have, kept you anchored, mired. I am awed by your strength, generosity, kindness and love that you showed all. Those who knew you still talk about, "lady Taurus!"

I pray that I have done you proud and you are glad that you are my mother.

Thank you for loving me and being my MOM, Lillie Mae Weston James!

Love,

Sharon

      "ONCE MORE"


    If I could just hear your voice once more
    You'd tell me what to do
    It would touch a chord deep, down inside
    And I'd know GOD was speaking through you

    If I could just hear your voice once more
    You'd say things I need to hear
    Those things would let me know
    That you are still very near

    If I could just hear your voice once more
    Maybe you could hear me, too
    Then I'd say some things
    That I didn't get to tell you

    If I could just hear your voice once more
    What a glorious day it would be
    Then you'd know that I still love you
    As much as I know you loved me

    ©2001

Albit,

I know you hated me calling you "Albit," but, I couldn't help it! It was probably the way I first learned to say your name. It just stuck!

The poem basically says it all—love you, miss you, Albert Wesley James, Sr. Thank you!

Your sister,

Sha-Sha

      "BROTHER"

    Brother, do you know how much I miss you?
    When you were sick, I just kept thinking,
    "What will I do without you?"
    Where once there were four now minus three,
    When you were gone, there'd be only me
    Could I along carry on this legacy?

    Was I strong enough? Was I big enough?
    That's when I realized I'd need to get tough!
    Then I began to understand that you made me strong
    Guiding me toward right and away from wrong
    Me riding your wings all my life long!

    Once I realized I was "covered" by my own private angels
    The ones who taught me good from evil
    Hearing your voices day after day
    Knew that I would be okay
    (For you're) Still hanging around me to save the day!

    Thank you, thank you, for loving me so
    Teaching most of what I needed to know

    Preparing me for when you were gone
    (Something you'd been doing since I was born)
    Knowing that I might be alone
    Riding your wings on and on and on and on and on ...

    ©2002

Eli,

Your kindness, generosity, and, willingness to always help made it easier for me to achieve many goals and dreams.

You taught me a lot through the art of travel. So much education is gained through experiencing other cultures.

Although we don't have a "blood" connection, family is not always the people you were born to.

Mine nor I will ever forget all you meant (and, still mean) to us!

        "TRAVEL MAN"

    "Travel Man," where have you gone for your last journey?
    I'll never forget, always remember, all the lessons that you taught me,
    And, the gifts that you gave me

    You traveled the world, circled the globe
    Left no stone unturned, no sail unfurled, on the many flights flown

    "Travel Man," where have you gone?
    "Travel Man," where have you gone?
    I say, "Travel Man," where have you gone?

    Finally, you've gone on home!

    Never forgotten!
    Already are, and always will be, missed!


    ©2010

"ANCESTRAL"

This short chapter entitled "Ancestral" is just a tribute to all of the ancestors that are embodied inside of us. No one in particular, but to all of those who dwell in our blood and our spirits.

Those who cause each one in a family to have a different complexion—dark or light, or, in between; blond hair, red-headed, or dark, straight hair—or look. Compliments of one who came before you.

Love it—for you were made in the image of your fathers!

      "BLOOD OF MY BLOOD"

    I love to be in the company
    Of others who belong to me
    The ones that I call family
    BLOOD OF MY BLOOD

    Makes me feel so damned good
    Not having to wonder if I should
    Because I am always understood
    BLOOD OF MY BLOOD

    Knowing that we're not wrong
    When we all sing the song
    Of those who had come along ... before us
    BLOOD OF MY BLOOD

    ©2002


      "ANCESTRY"

    Do we walk on the graves of our
    Native American ancestors who once danced to
    Faint drumbeats in prayer for rain and peace
    From the devils who traveled the seas?!

    See the smoke signals sent up to communicate
    With kin folk too far away to speak with face-to-face;
    And the puffs exhaled from pipes of peace
    That they thought the strangers also aspired to?

    We strain to hear distant echoes of ancient sounds from distant
    shores
    That the tom-toms made when accompanied by
    The sing-song cadence of spoken memories
    From (the) griots relaying familial African stories (and true-life
    tales)

    Do we hate and negate the blood of those Europeans who
    inflicted
    So much pain yet also flows within our veins, or, embrace
    All the faces and names that made us
    Who and what we are thus far?

    We look in the mirror, but, cannot see
    All of them that made us be
    The one that only you call "me"
    Got to get on with the discovery ...

    That will set you free!!

    Your personal ancestry!!
    ©2006


      "MY FAMILY"

    Started off as a square
    Too soon, dwindled to a triangle
    Then down to a straight line with 2 points
    Now there's only me, the last right angle!

    What do you do
    When there's only you?
    You go and you do
    All the things the others taught you to (do)

    So that's where I am now
    Trying to get by
    And learn how ... to fly
    On their wings ...

    MY FAMILY

    ©2002


      "JOURNEY TO THE HORIZON"

    On the journey to my horizon
    I stepped into the twilight of their sojourn from "back home"
    The kidnapping of our forefathers and foremothers—
    Frightening the enlightenment of their regal minds
    Into the miles of oceans that
    Snatched and stole the very souls right out of them

    Treated like the very slaves that they would
    One day become ... from Day One
    Shackled together, manhandled, mistreated and mangled
    On the ships that brought them to someone else's
    "promised land" where they would be hanged and dangled
    Like "strange fruit" from the noose of the white man if they made
    it to the "new world" before breaking loose and
    Ending up on the bottom of the sea—where they still be

    Imagine, if you would, if you could, the travesty, the misery
    Brought on by this shameful history
    Wrought upon the heads of royalty—

    Receivers of such gifts as the first-given life
    The beauty and the bounty of the Chosen Land
      All resources straight from GOD's hand

      Upon 1,000 hills are the cattle in His name
      The ones, the very same, that He promised to me—
      A me who would not be
      If not for the journey into my horizon
      Which was the twilight, the fading of light
      Of my ancestors' long-ago blight—

    Just for me ... Just for me ...

    ©2005


         "CINNAMON"

    The color of my skin
    Comes from the pigmentation that lies deeply within ...
    The hue, pure Cinnamon
    That's the color of my skin

    Mixed with the blood of the African,
    The red man, the white man,
    The brown man, the light man
    The hue, pure Cinnamon
    That's the color of my skin

    Not coal black, nowhere near white
    Definitely not dark, but way past "bright"
    The hue, pure Cinnamon
    That's the color of my skin.
    "CINNAMON"

    ©2003

"First Man"

This poem was born out of the realization and frustration that fathers don't recognize their role as the first man in their daughters' lives. Their instructions, or lack thereof, their advice, or lack thereof, their attention, or lack thereof, their affection, or lack thereof, or any one or combination of those behaviors is the yardstick by which girls and young women measure their worth.

So many of our daughters grow up with a skewed view of themselves—that they are not worthy, by themselves—that something needs to be done to educate the men who claim to love these beautiful creations whom they've been entrusted to assist GOD in raising.

Prayerfully, this piece will help!

      "BE A FATHER TO YOUR DAUGHTER'


    Let her know what she's worth
    How affected you were by her birth
    You must make her feel that you care
    Even if you're not physically there
    You see, she is guided by you
    Learns what she is entitled to
    Home is where she's to understand
    What to expect, how to command respect
    From the men who will affect her life
    And she will grow into her role as wife ... one day

    Yes, much is expected from you
    There are a million things to do and say to

      BE A FATHER TO YOUR DAUGHTER!

    ©2002

"ROOTS"





Roots are what keep us grounded

Just like a tree

Roots are what keep you connected

Connected to me

Roots are traditions, customs,

Stories of old

That kept us so attentive when they were told

Tales of ancestors, good as well as bad

Others happy, some quite sad

Make us reflect on whence we come

Realize and understand who we are from

Does me proud to know who came before ... me

And, to recognize all that they stood for

Roots, you will find, are the ties that bind us

To the blood in our veins and

The past that reigns over our lives today



©2002



      "THE ANCESTORS' BONES"

    How did that happen? How could that be?
    Me not knowing those before me!
    In and amongst the ancestors' bones are many faces I've not known
    Facts and history I've not been shown; history I've got (a) right to
    call my own!

    Trinkets, gifts, fermented drinks
    Betrayal, self-gain, trickery and thievery
    Helped cross us over into long-lasting ignorance
    Wonder if they knew, had any clue, of our coming misery?

    Heard some familial stories, but, distorted yet, of
    Exactly how 2 of my ancestors met
    What did they go through? How strong they must have been!
    There's still me ... and you! ...
    Their line did not end!

    Scattered, scattered ... the ancestors' bones
    Most of whose names I've never known!

    Where are they now?
    I need to find them! Some way, somehow!

    I need to find them! Some way ..., somehow!

    ©2003

(Continues...)



Excerpted from On The Wings of The Ancestors by Sharon Denise Copyright © 2011 by Sharon Denise. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Table of Contents

Contents

Foreword....................1
Acknowledgements....................7
"The Poet's Say"....................11
Explaining "Wings"....................12
Recalling "Wings"....................13
"On The Wings of The Ancestors"....................14
Names of the Ancestors....................16
"2 Daddy"....................19
"Daddy"....................21
"Mommy"....................22
"Once More"....................23
Albit....................24
"Brother"....................25
Eli....................26
"Travel Man"....................27
"ANCESTRAL"....................29
"Blood Of My Blood"....................31
"Ancestry"....................32
"My Family"....................33
"Journey To The Horizon"....................34
"Cinnamon"....................36
"First Man"....................37
"Be A Father To Your Daughter'....................38
"Roots"....................39
"The Ancestors' Bones"....................40
Aunt Dot....................43
"Give Me My Flowers While I'm Still Here"....................44
Vivian....................45
"Sister Viv"....................46
"Orphan Child"....................47
"Orphan Child 2"....................48
Jr. James....................49
"Jr."....................50
Obitse....................51
"Graceful Dancer"....................52
'Nay....................53
"(A) Mother's Love"....................54
"Mother Knows Best"....................55
"Beautiful Shower From Heaven"....................57
"Seed Of My Seed"....................58
My Bio....................59

Customer Reviews