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more poetry by Tamara Graham 

Tamara emerged from the ether with pen in hand and queenly stature.  Honest and exposing, her poetry is for the Strong black woman who knows her heart is fragile.  She will guide you through the depths of sisters' souls.  She is an ancient emerging to set you free.  The word sinuous describes her work in its entirety. She is edgy and classic, epitomizing the full-grown black woman.



© 2001/2003



Freshly Picked


Open like virgins

To worldly men

I come afraid

And curious

And wide

Laying all my guard

And timid pride

On the line

I give it up


To be seduced by

An omniscient soul

Who can possibly heal

All open wounds

With just a few words

And convince my heart

To became part of a life

It's never heard of.

Entombing me

In loving kindness

Curing my blindness

Knowing I can't see how not

To be afraid.

speak to me of

Laying hands and

Creating plans

Of faithful submission

Never omitting plain truths

And always digging into

Me with sharp edges

Plugging the holes

They make with

Strong hands.

To promote my dependence

Upon him

I find this state perplexing

Yet so painfully affecting

Just can't get enough of it.

My judgment has

Been clouded by healing kisses and a strong


I can't seem to

Dislodge myself from

And the outcomes are too many

To fathom.

 I'd rather have them in my

Own placements without

My heart racing, but

It isn't as sweet that way.

So I beg to be rid of the new

Feelings this

Has afforded me. 

Settling instead for a place

To rest my head and

Avoid all the excitement.

But I delight in his

Consequences for my

Reluctance to submit.

It's become a habit.

Like a drug I'd steal

Precious possessions

To get.  It's bad, very

Very bad.

Some how I have become

His freshly picked flower

No hours to come toward

My demise.  He sustains me

In his vase,

Peaceful waters feeding me

Allowing me to move toward future insight.  Crystal clear

To thwart confusion
Sun shines right through
Him, to me, casting no
Illusions on my
He's the sun I need
to flourish
just urging my heart

To be nourished
and accept his light
He wants me to

Bloom, to

Open like virgins
to worldly men
giving freely
and curious
and wide.



Queen's Dream


I'm standing

feeding from the image of me...

the image of me

I don't wanna waste what I see

Because it runs so deep

and climbs so fragile

The careless break

what I have fathomed

I already have too many

splintered thoughts,

Broken pieces of reality

cutting valleys

and rivers into me


I find all my daughters

Still allergic

to perm and weave

Understanding natural

is just what we need

I give birth to sisters

with hair so factual

That when it's picked

it's visibly Mathematical

and will manifest physically

into energy from their thoughts

that creates static electricity

And we'll be clinging to what

They believe

Resurrecting real love

And true feelings

Calling down lightening

Burning truth into your mind

We round table as I

ask them to help

Star Chart me, help Plot me

So that I can see

where god wants

me to be

and make sense

of the voices in my head

speaking to me

And the ancestors

in my dreams


I find some brothers


just below the surface

who understand

the undergrounds worth

an how it works

And I'm gonna ask them

to help me

find my way back

to the tribal Tree

cause dudes who dwell

in the underground

see where the paths

of the righteous lead.

Where in stone love

is carved for you and me

They hold my hand

As I can call back

to the people that bore me

And thank them for

the pain I could not endure


and apologize

for our sad state of affairs.


I cry for me and mine

in the darkness

My nana's heart sparks

this foray and

I live there with my

hopes and my needs and

I Pray

pray to lose myself

Rest my worry on shelves

made of this strong black

Man shoulders


I won't remember the sound

Of tired

when it tries to speak to me

as I grow older

And in his eyes I am always 22.



To forget this crippled life

and possibilities bound to

Rotting flesh

I await guidance from

that blinding light

Telling me what's best

And to get a move one



and find my bed floating

in a pool of us

The blood the shit the sweat the tears

The years we spent traveling

Cherokee handling my heart

And I think of the ocean


I often wonder what it's like

to sleep beneath the waves

My body suspended in water



I search for a merman

with tree branch hair

One that will care

where our bones


Watered men who speak a language

That's been

cut out of my head

telling me that during our passage

no story matches and

no boat floated

Man to woman to man chained

and cast into the ocean

carried us along on their

back across the atlantic

Then it all makes sense

Falling, floating,

falling out of life and into my


Warm flesh into cold sea...

waiting, calling, waiting for me

Will they remember my name

As I stand and can't remember

How long I been gone

Did they know my panic

When their heads head fell below water

Leaving me

one of the millions of daughters

Who still remembers and

grew into this moment

I half expect to hear their screaming

in every life

I live

Sometimes, in pain,

I stand in the rain and roar their names

Longing to be surrounded.

I am bound to this destiny

Knowing full well all the woman

I've been

And sometimes

I sit in the shower

and whisper my secrets to them.



All poems are copyrighted property of Tamara Graham.



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