It’s National poetry month and I hope you are reading and/or writing more poetry this month.
Please click the link below to see my first poem and blog post as The Mad Poets Society Poet of the Year. Please subscribe to the blog for monthly updates. We’re doing this all year!
Bev was my best friend. Although she lived on the opposite end of my block in West Philadelphia, where I was born and raised, our paths never crossed until I was in my late teens. I was the smart kid who got teased a lot and kept to myself. She got the nickname Queen B because she would walk around the neighborhood like she was royalty. She was always laughing and would strut down the street with her hands on her hips, and it seemed to me that she never let what anyone else thought about her, bother her.
I was the smart, quiet teenager with hardly any friends, and she was the loud, charismatic, funny popular one with lots of personality, and introduced me to the cool people on the block. When I was hanging with Bev, I felt popular and protected. She wouldn’t let anyone say anything bad about me and my Mom treated her like family. My brothers were DJs so there were always turntables set up in our basement, and Bev and I and whoever else came over from the block would put on our favorite albums and sing, drink beer and laugh. She wanted to be a star and she had such a beautiful light within her. We lost her at the age of 40 and I now carry her light within me. Each time I walk on a stage, I think of her and this is one of the poems I wrote in remembrance. Happy heavenly birthday Bev!
I Remember You (basement duet for Queen B)
We sang into West Philly-bred microphones Scents of stale beer and cigarettes floating under our basement borne concerts Roberta Flack Natalie Cole Teena Marie They were us we were we and we were free Imagining concert halls filled with fans gasping for gardenia scented motions of us We danced swaying under water pipes and wooden rafters Dressed in summer swag, tossing braids and permed ponytails while we bumped hips and dipped knees We were stars on the dust filled unfinished basement stage It was all we knew We were inseparable until you strayed We went our separate ways You succumbed to painful nights soaked in old men calling for you to dance again Asking for alley romance and offering snow dust dreams and green smoke behind masks You danced to stale music with no voice Now you’re gone and with you our Webster street duet Yet I still hear you We walk together in a parallel universe Pushing my stroller under the suburban sunshine I think of my sister pushing through the door at the crack of dawn Both rising to meet our children Both trying to define success in the way we could see Yet I still see you
Walking alone waiting on the bus stop in clothes wrinkled in the scent of cigars and whiskey As I secure the seat belt of my luxury car at the corner of my single home We both sit cloaked in sadness I walk with you though you don’t see my journey Resting in the sorrow of acceptance that I could not save you from yours I remember you I see you I carry you I sing for you I write for you I swing my hips for you I inhale smoke filled rooms and sip beer through a straw for you I plant my feet and grab the mic in remembrance of you You support me I carry you I love you I remember you I REMEMBER YOU
Sometimes you have to forget that you’re somebody’s momma, someone else’s nurturer, someone else’s provider, boss, therapist, housecleaner, mentor, hero and role model and just be. Be free. Be in spaces and places no one would expect you to be. Hair and toes out, dancing /swaying/moving/ calling in joy, calling in Josephine Baker, Dorothy Dandridge and every ancestor who conspired to form your hips, lips and freedom. Be seen, be joyfilled, be unapologetic, be around people eager to give without expectation of receiving. Just once my beloved sisters, be fearless. Be free. Repeat often until it’s comfortable.
Refusing the courtesy ride home in the back of the police car.
He was innocent.
No apologies for being accused of fitting the description of someone who was running and not doing anything but fitting the description of every black boy profiled.
A black boy running at night.
The cops told me that he wasn’t running when they stopped him. Thank God, I thought.
Because black boys who run get murdered.
So today I feel sad for you and all of the children we’ve lost to racism.
Today I selfishly thank you.
Thank you George for your life because it may have saved the life of my son.
A black boy who just wanted to breathe fresh air.
A black boy who just wants to feel freedom.
I pray for him.
I honor You.
You couldn’t breathe but he will breathe and run and stop and take breath and return home again today
I pray .
~ M. Tonita Austin aka Toni Love
written on the second anniversary of George Floyd’s murder. 5.25.22
Live Poetry Event: Tonita Austin, Sibelan Forrester, Alison Lubar Wednesday May 18, 2022 – 7pm Fergie’s Pub 1214 Sansom Street and on zoom – Registration Required
Come out and hang with me in the City!
I’m excited to share my poetry for the first time at a Moonstone Arts Center event with these gifted poets! There will be an open mic and loads of fun and poetry ❤️. I will also have copies of my book “Toni’s Room” for sale and if you already have a copy and want it signed, please bring it with you. They make wonderful Mother’s day gifts.
MAD POETS SOCIETY . Join us tonight for the next Livin’ on Luck reading at 7 pm! We will feature Pat Kelly, Toni Love, and Francesco Pasqualino. Open mic will follow hosted by Brooke Palma. To register, use the link below. See you there! Registration Link: https://wcupa.zoom.us/meeting/register/tJ0udu-srzkrH9MkU0-RXt2oPzi1gB9giaND?fbclid=IwAR0S58sEyLeH2zARcRshO0mkZv0lSfzBDaXuLypAu1WDa0QYqKQLZzxsDIQ Pat Kelly is a writer from Harrisburg. He writes poetry and fiction that explores the dark fringes of humanity and its impact on time and memory. He is currently working on his first collection of poetry, Buried Litanies, which is both a means of personal therapy and a voice to his repressed experiences with childhood sexual abuse.
Tonita Austin also known as “Toni Love” is a gifted poet, singer, activist, and writer born in West Philadelphia. While attending Columbia University, Tonita was a student of Amiri Baraka and performed in Ntozake Shange’s “For Colored Girls” as the Lady in Orange. Her writing is influenced by both experiences. She is a contributor to the anthology The Black Body and featured poet in the 2018 and 2020 Winter/Fall edition of the Philadelphia Arts and Urban Literary magazine. The Restoration EP is her first published recording; Toni’s Room is her first published book. Toni currently resides in Media,PA
Francesco Pasqualino is a restauranteur and writer living in Pittsburgh, PA. Francesco has supported many artistic groups including The International Poetry Forum, The Hillman Center for Performing Arts, and The Mad Poets Society, He has had the honor of studying with Ted Kooser and Mary Karr. His writing appears in Voices in Italian Americana, Mad Poets Review, Main Street Rag, and The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. You’ll find his culinary insights on Attenzione! A Writer’s Journal on his restaurant’s website, pasqualinos.com. He has also shared his family recipes as an invited guest on WQED public television. Mad Poets Society · P.O. Box 1248 · Media, Pa 19063 · USA
When I lost you I found myself Oh but it hurt It pained for so long Thinking of how foolish I had been To believe in you But my hurt turned into poetry And dance And I wrote And danced Until I filled up the emptiness in side of me The void that set inside my soul when you were no longer there Poetry about you and for myself Flowed from my fingertips like golden run at carnival time in Trinidad I loved until I stopped hurting And found not only myself But someone to love me for real And yes I admit there were times I wished that he were you Until constant caresses and truthful signs Showed me that true love accepts me for what I am Oh yes It is finally over Real love has rescued my weary soul And you are but a faded memory Because I am no longer afraid to receive the love That I have been given
(c) Toni Love
Give yourself the gift of poetry on #Valentinesday
Available on Amazon.com or click below to order directly from me!
Not mine son Not mine Not my son Not my brother nephew or current lover Not my neighbor cousin or future husband Not mine Not hers Not anybody’s Son I am not saying no more I am saying not ONE
We with the millions of ancestors behind us Forge a force you will feel into centuries Your generations will not be safe Your land will not be prosperous Your wealth will not sustain you Your privilege will not save you We are millions today plus millions from centuries before u Far more than your eyes can see We gather together seen and unseen When mothers pray it goes straight to heaven Rest assured and be forewarned There will be a price for your descendants to pay If you ever look at my son in a disrespectful, condescending or threatening way We collectively are not playing with you today No more
After successful book launches in Philadelphia and New York, Toni Love is bringing her new poetry book Toni’s Room alive in Washington D.C. at the famed BusBoys and Poets on 14th and V Street, Northwest Washington D.C. Toni will take you on a journey inside her book, sharing the emotion and inspiration behind her poems accompanied by accomplished percussionist Ronin Ali. Tickets to this intimate event include light fare and VIP packages are available. PRICES INCREASE at the door, so get your tickets today. Show is 5-7pm. You will leave feeling inspired, entertained and loved! 💜