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POETRY & POWER

Baltimore - Rejjia Camphor

2/14/2016

3 Comments

 
Picture
I lived in the woodland apartment with the green splattered paints and windows with holes in them, made from my mother as an address call.

I lived in park heights, no black or sweet delights unless it was the now and laters bought from the store or the girls playing jump rope or dancing on the floor. 

I come from fried chicken, fat beef patties that lay between thick white bread that turned red when ketchup didn't do what it was suppose to when bitten into to. 

I was raised in Pimlico, had to catch the yellow bus home because bullies chased you home if you weren't tough enough. 

I grew up around vacant houses, empty like crackheads without crack, just their empty heads left to think about their children and their disappointments. 

I lived around east, where chaos reigned with childhood leased out to me, running away but never for a long stay. 

Remember baby bottle pop or push ups or sweet lived and icy frozen cups that Loretta from around the corner used to sell. 

Remember the neighborhood kids and that lady with the Jamaican house that smelled like cats and incense when you walked in. 

Remember you had to be home before the street lights came on. 

Remember granddad sat on the porch with his forty and hollered at the young shawty whose name was dreama.

Remember blue shirt, khaki pants, green pants, blue shirt, yellow shirt, khaki pants, now white or black shirts and khaki pants. Nothing has changed that much. 

Remember lighting bugs, catch them with your hands, dance and set them free. 

Grandma was set free. Mom didn't go drug free, mom forgot to hug me, love me. 

Kids continued to tug and bug me. Woodland apartments knocked down from floor three. 

Lived on Presbury st, lived on Presstman st, lived on Normount st, lived on Greenmount st, lived in Fredrick county, Lived on Longwood st, lived everywhere temporarily. 

Everyone knew Tammi. 
Everyone knew Debbie. 
Everyone knew about Mondawmin
Everyone knew Liberty Heights
Everyone knew Santa Marias
Everyone knew the Lords Church
Everyone knew Kellie and her kids
But nobody even really knew her. 
Nobody knew about how Otis died. 
Nobody knew about how much I cried. 
Nobody knew what happened to my cat, Sam?
Where am I bound to be, damn?
3 Comments
Ayesha S
2/16/2016 08:55:30 am

Rejjia, I loved this poem when you recited it in class- I'm so excited to see it here!

Reply
Mia Capobianco
2/16/2016 07:06:21 pm

I love this piece so much! Your use of repetition, in several places throughout the poem, has an almost incantatory effect. I also love the way you've varied your line lengths and formatting; it makes the poem feel even more dynamic. Your use of internal rhyme is so skillful (specifically the section that begins with "Remember the lightning bugs" and ends with "floor three").
Your poem is so nuanced throughout, and then it sort of builds up and ends with a really powerful question that almost reads to me like a cry. I really enjoyed it.
Really impressive piece, Rejjia! I can't wait to read/hear more of your work.

Reply
Madison
2/16/2016 11:49:46 pm

I agree with the others who have commented on this piece--it has such a great energy to it, one that picks up once you start repeating "Remember x..." and that you maintain through to the end of the poem. The world you've created here is very complete and convincing because you've made the smart choice of populating it with real things (like the baby bottle pops, the different colored shirts and khakis, the street names.) It's such a well wrought poem, I'm glad you posted it so I have the chance to keep reading it.

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