April was poetry month and it was celebrated by yours truly by joining my poet comrades and doing a 30/30 (thirty poems in thirty days). This is month where lovers of poetry and spoken word are going to readings, doing open mics, conferences, and celebrations; there are special postings on websites, and sometimes a human interest spot on PBS News Hour. I am also amazed this month how the mechanics of writing has evolved; you don’t have to just put a pen to paper!

I praise the emancipating and empowering way the word gets read and heard, through a device, hung on a wall, or out of ones smart phone (I know, it’s a device too…) The poem of the 21st century is technical. graceful, artful, and POWERFUL.

HIV Here and Now (Using poetry and the arts to advocate for a world without HIV or AIDS) post poems from people like you and me, expressing our feelings , observations, and our voices for Na(HIV)PoWriMo ± (National (HIV) Poetry Writing Month ±) They are active year around with poems,, writing prompts, and workshops.  

If you are a pen pusher (like me!) or just a lover of words, spoken or written, check them out!

As the Therapeutic Poet, I use poetry therapy as a means to empower, treat, and recover, from obstacles, illnesses, and barriers one can come across in our lives. I also use the same power of the word and pen for my own health and wellness… (Like “Hair Club for Men,” I’m not only the therapist, but I use it!) As much as I have written, I NEVER wrote about my hiv.

Here are two of my poems, my first two poems, about my relationship with that rude guest in my body:

On That Day

On that day

doubt surrounded me

like trees touching each other’s fingers;

the foreboding forest grasping limb to limb

arching over my head.

Yet, I kept moving forward

foot in front of foot

beyond the morass that enveloped my soles/soul

looking for a clearing through

the gaps between the branches

the openings beyond the shame.

Though vines of cynicism

Slapped/grabbed/tugged me down

I kept lifting myself up

Like a fawn’s first footing

Fighting for solid ground

And I kept moving forward

Not knowing where I was

Not knowing where I was going

I sliced through the fog of fear

Though darkness was in my line of vision.

I just kept moving forward

And kept looking up

beyond the crimson chaos

the grey shades of doubt

Allowing light years of faith to come down

Clear a path that suited me best

And I kept moving forward

Letting my faith do the rest.

Nothing is so scary

Than what is ahead

Nothing is so hopeful

Than lifting my head

Catching a glimmer of faith

by looking to the heavens

So on that day

keep moving forward




If you remember nothing else, remember this:

That history dances with time

And may tap you on the shoulder for a dance;

Grab its hands

Don’t let it wrap its arms/hands

Around your waist

You guide it/ rest them securely

Where it can follow you

Take your arms, toned with the

constant exercise of dignity and discipline;

your sturdy hands –

Ready to grip/hold/fight

But cajole/caress/comfort with

Your feet firmly planted which

No one can sway

Hold history             tightly

Hold life        firmly

And lead;