Poems that are strengthened by the ancestors
I hope you enjoy these poems and will, perhaps, be inspired to write a poem of your own.
Poetry
© 2018, J. Joy “Sistah Joy” Matthews Alford,
The soul of humanity
speaks through poetry.
Eternal and unending,
she sings of generations
past and yet born.
We hear her song clearest
when we listen with our hearts.
What is poetry saying to you?
Neither Knees Nor Pandemics
© 2021, J. Joy "Sistah Joy" Matthews Alford
Pulling us from the lull of status quo
Today’s carnage awakens us,
Has shaken the conscience of the world
As once again captured digitized images
Seen on flat-screens around the world
Convey atrocities that Black folk have
Endured in America for centuries
Face masks and gloves can’t
Protect us from this pandemic
More lethal, more deadly than COVID-19
Black America has known this
Ravaging disease for far too long
No longer will we hide
A shame not ours inside Black rage
Behind fear or Black tears
America, this cannot continue
To be your legacy
The confluence of systemic discrimination
Racism, police misconduct and brutality, profiling,
Inequity in every arena,
Indifference, but all too often
Disdain for Black life is the reality
This is not a flaw in the system
It is the system
Entrenched injustice simply makes visible
Horrid realities that a color-blind society
Hides in broad daylight
See our color, see the beauty of our rainbow
We are beautiful when we are free ...
(to read this poem in its entirety, visit the Prince George's Arts and Humanties Council - Poet Laureate webpage at
https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5c4be1b09772ae5eba076e59/t/5eed26577ce31f0d46e14275/1592600167674/Newsletter+June+2020+Alternate+format.pdf
Such Splendor (for Jordan)
© 12/27/2018, by J. Joy “Sistah Joy” Matthews Alford
Two traveling by highway
Enjoying laughs and love
Anticipated reunions and hugs
The soon to arrive Special Day
We snacked and joked our way
Through towns, past landmarks
Learned anew about each other’s world
Things we’d both forgotten
Or never knew
No snow
As could be expected
This time of year
Hence our impromptu road trip
A chance end-of-year retreat
From routine ritual and concern
Then, oh what wonder
Just before journey’s end
What glorious awe to behold
Such an exquisite golden orb
Inordinately large, orange and full
Resting just above horizon
Initially partly hidden by trees
Until there – there, in unrestricted view
Welcoming us with a moment
Of hushed wonder
The perfect salutation
Creating a forever memory
Of a special journey
Shared by grands
Traveling to celebrate with loved ones
The birth of Christ
Words (The Battle)
© 2018, J. Joy “Sistah Joy” Matthews Alford
Words sometimes glide from my fingertips
Appearing on computer screens that scream
Back at me. I want them to say soft things
Warm wonderful enriching things
But such is seldom word or way in this world
This increasingly degenerative place
In which generations have been coerced
Compromised and killed, and many more
Continue to navigate from a posture of fear.
Creeping from under my fingernails,
Words spill onto white screens
Through whisper, plea or shout.
Revelatory gems awaken ancient echoes
As long dormant touchstones build
Vigor and fervor within me.
Exigent issues connect sinew with synapse
Call me to task, remind me that
Generational faith resides inside me.
Such has prepared me to be
Witness, bridge and word warrior
For much has been given me and
Been given up for me.
More than my own mortality,
Humanity’s moral trajectory
Reminds me that time is fleeting,
That chains upon which pendulums swing
Seem indeterminately long, but
Are not indeterminately strong.
Let them not break from the weight
Of my delay or he rightful rage
Of oppressed people.
Warfare is no way to experience life.
But ‘til need be filled, I will navigate this wasteland
Imbued with strength of truth and power of word
I will don breastplate and swing machete
Against the empathy-barren, genocidal and indifferent.
In warrior mode I shall seek sanctuary
Or create one for the innocent if none be found
I will work skin to bone, brittle and broke
Stand before dragon and demon
Slash with word, prayer and blade
All who would strive to victimize or annihilate
For our village is essential.
I understand this now
And have come to honor, revere and protect.
Anything less leaves me defeated and disgraced.
I have been assigned and equipped for this task.
So while these words on my screen
Often scream back at me
I have accepted the assignment.
My words will not be silenced.
I will wield them well to ensure
They are heard, known, felt
Beyond the whiteness of screen and page
Til word, though black, run red
Like blood in my veins
Pouring through each page
And stage of my life.
Bluiett’s Beat – When Jazz Is Right
A tribute to Hamiet Bluiett, world class
Baritone Saxophonist who transitioned on 10/4/18.
By J. Joy “Sistah Joy” Matthews Alford
Syncopation, improvisation, big words
Better for me to just feel the sound
Cause, when its right
Jazz feels like it sounds
And sounds like it feels
I watched a Jazzman
Make magic flow from his lips
Conjure sultry sounds smooth as silk
Watched 'em dance right outta his finger tips
Sweet and sour notes down real low
Cascade then crescendo into my soul
All in a single heart beat
Mysterious sounds pourin' outta his horn
He be doin’ that circular breathin’ thing
No I’m not gettin’ turned on
I’m just diggin’ the Jazz,
Can't you see, he be kissin’ that sax
An' she be kissin’ him right back
I swear I heard her call his name
Just before the room started to sway
What kinda game he be playin’ anyway?
Teasin’ folks with notes that don’t exist
Playin’ a game we can’t resist
Playin’ that Jazz so right
Don’t tell me them tremblin’ sounds
Dancin’ round my head
Was just notes on a chart
I know I’m gettin’ hot
But that’s just cause it’s done got
So crowded in here -- right?
Then, when I think I’m 'bout to explode
He hit a note that pierced my left earlobe
Sounds I can’t begin to describe
Got me quakin’ with spasms from brain to toe
Makin’ that horn screech, belch and bleet,
Sounds be anything but sweet
Folks be bobbin’ they heads an' pattin’ they feet
To his mean riffs, scats and beats
Droppin’ fives and tens in the tip jar
Right about now you can't recall
Where you parked your car
You know it’s just about time to go
But there’s one thing you know for sho’
You know the Jazz is right
Jazz has undressed you with her sultry song
Then clothed you in her own tune
Helped you remember to forget
Took hold of your soul and reminded you
She ain’t so much about melodies, as memories
And this time you got more than you bargained for
"Jazz, no middle of the road"
That’s what The Jazzman said
Forever controls your soul
Once it gets inside your head -- Jazz!
The Burn
Sometimes
The pain
Inside my bones
Blazes red hot
Burns
Like midnight
Crosses
And nooses
On necks
Stretchin’
From
Poplar trees
Or urban streets
Into
Eternity
In Praise of Bridges
We honor bridges
And thank God for them
Created for such times as these
When firm footing is key
Allowing us to overcome obstacles
Avoid difficulties and disappointments
Each built and strengthened by ancestors
Elders, visionaries who predicted
Knew of our need
Together we build breath-taking
Awe-inspiring bridges
To carry our gifts
Even our burdens
As we lift
More than our fists
To strengthen both builder and traveler
Short or long, fragile or strong
Bridges transport us
From that which has ended
To new plateaus and possibilities
That dwell, resonate and grow
Within our spirit, mind, and soul
Some will remain
Others will be
Carelessly or vengefully
Burned to the ground
So we build and cross bridges
That lift, guide, and empower us
Enabling both the anxious and the weary
To avoid stumbling block and valley
Offering safe passage
While deciphering signals
And warnings from yesterday's
Builders and travelers
So is our way directed
By these crossings cleared long ago
Showing us tried and tested ways
Toward our new and waiting tomorrow
Remembrances - A Memorial Day Poem
Written for and presented at the Ebenezer A.M.E. Church
2008 Memorial Day Celebration,
“Holy Spirit – Bring All Things to Our Remembrance.”
Remembrances
Reaching back
Spiritually embracing absent family and loved ones
We will mourn our loss of them forever
But on this day we pay homage and honor their memory
We thank God for them and all they gave us
And, as graciously as we know how,
Thank them for their sacrifice
We recall daughters, mothers, foremothers
And our sons, brothers and father warriors, ancestors all
Who stood tall ‘til time,
As measured by eternity’s hand,
Released them from their labor
Remembrances,
Memories handed down one to another
In ways that anchor and reassure us
Keeping souls safe through prayer and faith
Those who came before
Paved the way, opened a door
To which only they held the key
In the meanwhile they have left us remembrances
May we ever be comforted by this gift from God
This feeling, this yearning deep inside
Remembering absent, yet forever present caring hearts and hands
Warm smiles, strong backs, gentle hugs
Given then to build fortresses within us
Shields of love that comfort and cradle us
They soften tomorrow’s blows, enrich our spirits
With lullabies that echo in our minds and soothe our souls
In ways that only love can comprehend
Remembrances
Special and treasured memories of different times and places
But mainly of family and friends, precious and delicate
Somehow, despite losses, we grow -- always
For the legacy must continue
We lift little ones to places of understanding
Through stories and family photographs
Keeping alive their connection
With folk gone long before their time
Some gone so long even elders struggle to recall their face
But their place in the family will always stay strong
Just like the love and the strength they shared and dared to give
At times, it was all they had
Now we remember, with love, that they gave their best
And their best makes our tomorrows better
Remembrances, through smiles and tears
We thank God, despite our pain and sadness
Our souls are made glad when we remember
For Their People
This tribute Poem was written to honor the life and legacy of Edwin H. Brown, Sr., a great
Prince Georgian who wore many hats of service, including that of newspaper publisher, photographer, founder and host of the award-winning Ed Brown Show. He was a staunch
civil rights advocate, a community leader and a passionate voice of Prince George's County.
© 9/27/2018, J. Joy “Sistah Joy” Matthews Alford,
There are some we come to know by their deeds
We see them making things happen
Their footprints marking the pages of history’s notebook
They more than witness, they document
Help those of us with less clear vision to see
Tell us to pull up a chair, listen in
Teach us about life’s more meaningful things.
These are God-fearing, educated, honorable men
Who take time to do what is necessary,
Important and right – for their people
Demonstrating excellence in all they do
Never a stranger to discipline or service
They take the time, forge and pave the roads
Build the bridges that make life better for their people
Share knowledge that enables others to grow
With firm foundations, first and foremost,
Of family, community and faith
Their stories are our stories
Our history, our culture, cutting through to the core
Of the truth that they know we need
They are the pathfinders and pioneers
Who carried our stories in their hearts
So when they shared them,
They were sharing part of themselves
That’s a beautiful pure Black love legacy
One that honored all who’ve fallen along the way
Lifting and teaching through struggle and strategy
This will forever be their legacy
For unlike the rest, they never took the easy path.
But served as griot, historian,
And when needed, warrior
Sharing the news with passion’s voice
Allowing others to understand
The significance of a thing.
They were ours because we were theirs.
They had much to give. Their capacity,
Like their character, was great.
Wearing our souls inside their hearts
That special, safe, warm place of love
For their people
Strong Hands of Mother Africa
Strong hands of Mother Africa
Awaken places deep inside me
where my ancestors dwell
Like distant echoes, your heart-beat
reverberates off Kilimanjaro’s mountain-tops
pulses down the Nile
crosses the Sudan
and flows into my soul
Strong hands of Mother Africa
Call my absent spirit
To return and commune with the elders
Those who sojourned before me
now light my path
and await my homecoming
Strong hands of Mother Africa
Reveal to me my history
Teach me the ways of my true homeland
Unmask the mysteries and tragedies
of this altered consciousness
Awaken in my mind and body
the unripened seeds of truth, power, and pride
Solve for me the paradox of my mortality
Strong hands of Mother Africa
My soul dances to your ancient rhythm
pulsing, ever pulsing through the veins of time
Teach me to beat Africa drums
so that I, too, may guide
another absent spirit to your shores
So that I, too, may guide
Another absent spirit
home
I Come With My Drum
What message can I lift
To help heal the sick
Comfort the orphan
Bring peace to the world
What message can I lift
To open doors and hearts alike
Bring joy, power and discernment
Defeating strongholds
Building bridges despite
Wildernesses whose darkness
Would defeat my quest
What message can I lift
To shine God’s light
Bring justice and love
To empower
During midnight’s hour
What message can I lift
To please my God
Build faith and trust
Despite unlikely victories
Countless disappointments
And tragedies
Adversity means nothing
To a God who can do all things
So like David
I come with my drum
The Gift of Time
The gift of time is precious
That thing given us which
Despite our most fervent desire
Cannot be kept
That thing which, when spent
Becomes the calendar upon which
Our story is told, and
Through which our history unfolds
Unique for each of us
We are her centerfold
Naked truth fills the pages
Where she, time, reigns supreme
Inside her book we look at our lives
With celebration or sorrow
Decades dance, prance or drag by
As we fill each hour-glass of every today
Creating tomorrows from choices
That make us who we are
So dance deftly and with boldness
Embrace vigor and compassion along the way
Each is required to complete the course
For if nothing else, life's two-step teaches
That regret has the greatest memory
And can be vanquished only by virtue
So let her gossamer wings lift you
To realms of trust, truth and happiness
Where time is always on your side
Excerpts and links to more poems by Sistah Joy
"So we look back
Name and claim our mournings,
As freely as we seek
the glory and glee of victories
Not to dwell in yesterday
Nor she in us
But to gain from her legacy,
good or bad
Ancestors, elders, and
tomorrow’s seed yet born
Each has or shall witness
With earthly short-sightedness
That which limits vision to all this side of Jordan..."
To view this poem, Reflections, in its entirety and 4 other poems by Sistah Joy, visit http://danmurano.com/featured-poet/sistah-joy
"With faith that flickers
Like fireflies in the night
We wander, float
A seemingly aimless
Reaching out
Seeking to take
More than give
Survive rather than live
Unaware of the beauty
And brightness of our own light Reflections are few
When those around you
Only cast shadows
That challenge, ridicule
And dim the radiance of right..."
To view this poem, Souls Seeking Light, in its entirety, and 22 others by Sistah Joy, visit
http://www.authorsden.com/visit/viewPoetry.asp?AuthorID=5646
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Poetry by Sistah Joy