Madonna

Madonna A Poetry collection

Donna Gayle Fleming Photography & Editing by Colleen Pierce Breslin 1

NY W RITERS COALITION P RESS

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Madonna A Poetry collection

Donna Gayle Fleming Photography & Editing by Colleen Pierce Breslin

NY Writers Coalition Press 3

Copyright Š 2014 NY Writers Coalition, Inc. ISBN: 978-0-9911174-3-7 Library of Congress Control Number: 2014936320

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Upon publication, copyright to individual works returns to the author and artist.

Editors: Colleen Pierce Breslin Layout: Rose Gorman Title: Donna Gayle Fleming Cover Image: Alexander Mayorga Interior Images: Colleen Pierce Breslin Madonna is a collection of poetry from NY Writers Coalition workshop member Donna Gayle Fleming.

NY Writers Coalition Press, Inc. 80 Hanson Place, Suite #604 Brooklyn, NY 11217 (718) 398-2883 info@nywriterscoalition.org www.nywriterscoalition.org

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Introduction Colleen Pierce Br eslin S PRING 2014 The Madonna is a perplexed portrait Throughout the world all artists sought it.

Settled in a corner of a community room named Luck situated in a house of recovery named Serendipity II in the Bedford Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn is the spirit of the Madonna. The years have delivered great pain and great joy. From the vantage point of humility, she allows memories of error, injustice, kindness, strength and victory to run through her. Her pen does not stop moving.

Witnesses gathered in her light write themselves unfolded.

Silence falls over the room while we others wait to discover where our unique histories intersect with her own. Mother.

Thinker. Teacher. Poet. She speaks.

She has no expression just design No sign of sadness hidden inside Born in Kings County Hospital on May 3, 1957, Donna Gayle Fleming arrived to this world an observer, to a clan of exceptional women. Her mother collected degrees to become a dedicated educator of Brooklyn’s children while her grandmother tended to Donna’s spiritual garden. She composed her first pieces of poetry on walks home from Sunday service. Always with a bright serious mind, Donna excelled in her studies and watched life’s unfolding. Words came to her early in life. Imagination did also. But home in childhood she did not find. By the time she was making decisions for herself, the light and dark notes of life’s music were composing her direction. She was dancing.

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Continued

No smile although all viewers know There’s something there that doesn’t show To hear Donna tell it, she took many wrong turns to find her direction. Her missteps led her straight through a forest of her fears. She faced them often without arms. “Kindness taken for weakness,” she explains. In the wilderness of her life, Donna found herself without the tools to nurture her beloved child or herself. Pleasure became pain. As she spiraled, she remembered always her baby girl and never stopped writing. She told silent stories about forgiveness, redemption and hope, and thought up a horizon. Her words became faith and faith became reality. On April 22, 2012, in a detox wing of Kings County Hospital, she decided to live again.

Destroyed, discarded or misplaced, the poetry of Donna’s earlier lives did not survive. The instant collection represents her recovery. When asked to describe its significance, Donna speaks. “Recovery feels like a new start, being borne again, baptized. Sitting down, taking the seat, holding on tight because you know, you know the Cyclone is going and all you can do is hold on. So much time has passed. You don’t know how long you have left.”

Expenseless is her lasting gleam No one has yet found what she dreamed.

I have the honor of writing with Donna every Thursday night through the New York Writer’s Coalition workshop at Serendipity II, a home for women in recovery. All of us workshop participants are driven by our unique experiences.

We write to our differences but also to a collective determination to heal old wounds and to discover purpose.

Listening to one another’s writing, we discover sources of pain and founts of inspiration inside our individual selves.

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Donna sits quietly in the corner of the workshop space.

She reaches her vibrantly manicured nails into the pouch she wears on her hip and retrieves the only tool she needs to be heard. She takes it between her fingers and bearing her head down, glides her hand cursively across the page.

When the time comes to share, the rest of us go first. As we listen to one another, we are struck by the ways in which we are alike, and we notice that our individual writing works together into an elaborate spoken mural called Recovery. It is bright and eclectic but out of words, we leave it unfinished. Our eyes turn to Donna for the finishing touch.

She speaks. She does not look up but she sees into each of us. She bares our collective soul.

The hands of time will not be turned back, she reminds us. The possible lies in what it is ahead, in moving forward.

Time ticks so quickly, she tells us. But life, life moves along slowly. If we are paying attention. In the silent slow space, there is a dream. There is a dream of peace.

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I once wa s lost but now I a m found.

I once wa s blind but now I see .

A MA ZI N G G R A C E

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A N G RY H E A RT S The love of not holding on for long The quest for disagreeing success Behaving nor, a hard-slammed door Achievement fail A space to dwell, A body function, out of junction Nowhere to go, it steals the show A mad distress, no place to rest A wounded heart, all torn apart.

Misery loves company That’s how their beat goes on.

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HELP In my words regarding help I failed to receive from someone else Know that I need to be missed Solid anchored as a ship Like suited sailor’s firm salutes and loving vows to constitute Faith and hope that doesn’t stumble As I fade in and out of trouble A friend for when I call aloud Will not be lost among the crowd The help I know that I shall need For the order to succeed.

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If I c ould turn bac k the hands of time.

R . K ELLY

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VICTIM I feel I’m a victim of circumstance Because I never walked away The merrier the parties got The more I’d love to stay Why break my heart? I couldn’t start To stop and settle down I look for others to applaud What wasn’t meant for sound, The friends I kept just weren’t met for lifetime’s stipulations I don’t know how I made it through Those rough time situations I’d hurt inside but sang and danced To keep it on the low Till I’d used all my welcomes up And found nowhere to go No one kicked me, punched me, beat to this victim that you see.

I should have known to recognize, and just get up and leave.

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LET IT BE Tomorrow leaves another day To handle all my pains I don’t know how I’ll muscle them It’s driving me insane Putting up all options, Taking in the votes Rambling through the remedies Searching every note Believing there’s a better half That shines inside me Each day is left a mystery Right now I just can’t see Let it be!

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T H E S ER E NI T Y P R AY ER God g rant me the serenity to acce pt the things I cannot chang e, the courag e to ch ang e the things I can, and the wisdom to know the differ ence.

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LIVE Life is a jungle concocted by man.

You’re supposed to put in it all that you can.

Survival of the fittest is not a fair fight.

The harsh stricken morals aren’t even right.

Destroying the land and all that is left. It’s utterly wicked.

Folks think for themselves.

The air that we breathe is toxic and foul.

Habitation motivations, not built for a child.

There’s enough to share.

Let’s all be aware to play by the rules, Showing everyone cares.

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LET GO A N D L E T G OD

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TICK

OF

TIME

Part I Throughout my life I have always prayed My god would leave me to better days Fought with arrows instead of guns Not understanding why I never won I left the egg straight in the nest No sense of caring what was the best The years passed by and oh, the days, Troubles lingered in every way I still believe God will see me through Give me the courage that I subdued I’m blessed with life and all its woes And won’t stop praying until my close.

Part II Today thank God I’ve started out I’m blessed to take another route I’m thankful for so many things That yesterday and today brings I’ve seen the moon, I see the run I hope there’s future left to come Taking one day at a time Especially when at my prime The gift of life, just for today Reminds me what it is to pray.

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Part III Every day I thank God Just for waking up I never know the circumstances Life’s situations will erupt Hoping for happiness and joy Even through problems I employ The gift, the blessing of breathing air.

To me is felt as debonair To spare my soul another day The glow of health, the righteous way A family, good memories Is reason enough to make me sing So drink the water, eat the food That some don’t get to me is good This year I’m grateful just to show Appreciation for the unknown This too shall pass The best is yet to come.

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G ROW T H I A drop in the bucket, a tear in your eye Makes for running water, tears that you cry It doesn’t take much to add for a load Just like little pebbles you see on the road A brand newborn baby turns out to a child the bigger it gets the more it runs wild a heartbeat not function will cause it to stop A second not beating turns to mean a lot A whisper to yelling, a solo to choir Remarkable happenings come from little desires.

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CHANGE My emptiness has gone away Leaving another heart astray.

I’ll try to know belief from fake, Stop making foolishly mistakes.

Demanding lovers goal respect.

Always looking for signs of neglect.

Start out with caution and draw the line.

Know when to know when to decline.

Remember the have nots are the you, The pain it took to pull you through.

I’ll always have those memories.

Only facially is gone to see.

For history repeats itself.

This time it will learn from someone else.

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The l i ttl e ree d, be nding to the force of the w i nd, soon stood uprig ht aga in when the storm ha d pa sse d ove r.

AESOP

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S TO R M Part I There’s a storm coming, what do I do I hope that I can make it and see it through The winds are fierce, the mountains roar There may be nothing to restore You can’t ignore death at the door Just pray to God there won’t be more There’s no preparation, no explanations Once you’ve experienced its devastations.

Part II The sun went out which came the rain.

A storm arose from heaven’s plains.

The winds were blowing homes astray.

All searched for shelter, somewhere to stay.

Waters arose like Bible time, Destroying lives along the line.

Everyone watched but were subdued.

There was just nothing they could do.

People were thankful for food to eat, And even praised shoes on their feet.

Lifetimes memories were mostly destroyed.

All left were remnants of what they enjoyed.

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I’ M O N LY H U M A N A bird has wings to fly away Soar into heaven, choose its own way Roam through the skies, mount on the trees Sheltered from enemies, hide in the leaves Drink from the waters, feed from the earth Make use of its blessings given from birth What spectacular splendors profoundly I’d untwine, If I were born with wings to fly.

But I’m only human

D AW N I N G Following the appetite of biting wrong but eating right, Jungle in the wilderness.

Self-survival. Deliciousness.

Tastes cores that have no seeds, Sugar created, hidden weed.

Searching for new things that grow.

Open-handed. The unknown.

Dew that falls to show the morning.

Bright lighted sun until the dawning.

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Thi nk and w onde r. W onde r and think.

D R . S E U SS

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EDUCATION Skills of trying before you know, Is the gift of learning, the talk of the show.

A talent rare, a great esteem, The wins the prize of any theme.

New things are thought of every day, To make a new and brighter way.

And education wins the prize, For everyone to recognize.

TREK Footprints leave a lifelong scent Photographs places you’ve gone and went All mistakes, all of your flaws, It even shows opening/closed doors Hot and cold they’ve even told The weight and height they’ve carried on A legend baring note for others To be discovered of our ancestors.

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H OPE…

which whispered from Pandora’s box after all the other plagues and sorrows had escaped, is the best and last of all things.

IAN CALDWELL

M A D O N NA The Madonna is a perplexed portrait Throughout the world all artists sought it She has no expression just design No sign of sadness hidden inside No smile although all viewers know There’s something there that doesn’t show Expenseless is her lasting gleam No one has yet found what she dreamed.

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Y E L L OW Yellow is the puss of veins It’s needed for all wounds obtained The flowers wear the color well From day to day the blossoming dwells The sun express its vividness Bananas ripen in yellow’s nest The color’s gay for all to see Says happiness is inside me.

P A N D O R A ‘ S B OX I wonder why I fail to touch Astonishing things that mean so much Seems I’m not getting to dream or see The courage, wisdom inside of me I’m scared to look or even smell Good vibes that make people do well The lusters of a gleaming star Pass all my openings ajar Pandora’s box describes me most Because all that’s missing is to hope.

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The only true wisdom is k now ing y ou know nothing .

S O CR ET E S

G ROW T H II I’m anticipating peace in the valley The mountains, plains, home on the range Feeding the poor, welcome knocks from next door Healing the sick, stopping misery quick Helping the lost at free of cost Seeing nothing but smiles from every child Teaching propose for those who don’t know Fulfilling the wishes of those who have missed it Reaching for the stars, no limits no bars.

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C RU Z I N ’ All aboard I give you a chance Informing my elders to have this last dance To escort the past at their favorite tune Enhancing good memories slowly motionly gloomed Hipping and hoppin’ for rhymes that describe Forbidden and hidden Loves put on the line The hustle is perfect when not out of step To stay on the good foot from right to the left Yours truly sincerely, love, peace life’s not through So pump up the volume from me unto you.

AGING As I become older and look at ole me I get so confused up in what I can see My bones are all shattered, My feet always hurt Those youngins around me just treat me like dirt I can’t thread a needle, I can’t skip and hop I’ve been there and done that My old ass will pop!

P A RT I N G Would others be worried when you up and go Not saying farewell to friends you have known An unplanned adventure, you couldn’t resist Lost love, left the future, that you’re gonna miss A parting’s no option, it’s set for mankind Death is no dilemma, you’re just out of time.

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One is not nec e ssa rily born w ith c oura ge , but one is born w ith potentia l.

W i thout coura ge , we c annot prac tice a ny othe r virtue w ith c onsiste ncy .

W e ca n’t be kind, true , me rc iful, g e ne rous, or hone st.

M AYA A N G E L O U

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YOU How dare you leave me, where did you go, You left me alone, feeling I wasn‘t known You just lost all contact, and ran far away Leaving me hopeless and tossing astray I had to grow up with the bums on the street Hoping for shelter from someone I’d meet Did you not pity or care about me I know that you didn’t because here’s where you’d be But I can still smile though it’s so hard to do Because all the while I’ll be thinking of you.

ME Don’t tell me when I fail to be Anyone you think should be me I don’t know me, how could you You don’t know what I’ve been through All your questions are your thoughts My mind can’t be borrowed, sold or bought You don’t know my lines, my myths For every way I see God’s gifts Understanding won’t be understood Your M.O. doesn’t mold me and never would Honestly thinking with all of my heart You are the pressure that pulls me apart.

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M E M O RY Lifeline to my long unforgotten past, A pure managing to be the last.

It shocked and stunned me, left me no clue Of love’s enchantment in meeting you Just those embracements, of open arms The touch of caring, your warming charms The smile you gave me, each time we kissed A sentiment I’m gonna miss Through you’re not with me upon the flesh My thoughts will hold on nevertheless.

M OV I N G O N I can’t control the things that you do Whatever you go for is all up to you You can’t blame me when you’re in despair I’m not your guardian I don’t give you air I don’t have the right to hold a man down If that’s the cause, you shouldn’t want me around Think for yourself, I have trouble with me The blind leading the blind Leaves nobody to see Control your own business, all that is left I’ll have to leave you for somebody else.

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F O L L OW I’m proud to take another breath Be grateful for the years that’s left Smile when my sun refused to shine Appreciative all the time Climb mountains high and then ford streams Give hope a chance to follow dreams Watching for forks upon the road Untie the knot, release the load Forget the past and choose to dare, Lift up my head and not be scared.

Silence is prayer. Prayer is faith.

Faith is love.

Love is service.

The fruit of service is peace.

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N A R E I DA Once upon a time I had a baby girl She was so beautiful fulfilling my world, I turned to drinking which kept us apart But for all of those years she stayed in my heart I’m glad she’s a scholar, I’m proud she’s a boss Not like hoodlums I hung around, lost in the sauce I miss most her birthdays and Christmases too, What in the world does an alcoholic do, She says she forgives me and says it with love, She’s the greatest blessing I’ve gotten above.

WOMEN I am woman body and soul God has blessed me to behold Gifts of wrath along the way Feeding wisdom every day Start of life is what I’m for Not to hide behind some door Love is what I am here to give For as long as I should live Practice to give me respect Not to taunt me nor neglect See in me what I see first Here to quench a needed thirst.

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MY C HILD I’ll never forget when I had a child Beauty, rapture, my unending smile I held her so gently and cuddled her dear God bless the nine months she took to get here Babies cry often as they’re supposed to But each time I kissed her cries would subdue Love is the remedy for feeding a kid And each time I see her I’m glad that I did.

A M OT H E R ‘ S T O U C H Happy Mother’s Day and rest assured Good times should always be endured Each time I reach out for your face I memorize loving embrace I feel the beating of my heart Only a mother’s gift could start I conquer my greatest intent Fill empty spaces we haven’t went yet Our love endures through endless time A mother’s touch could only wind.

M E NA G E R I E It doesn’t seem to matter If I’m rich or poor As long as I have caring written upon my door As long as I have conscience that doesn’t bring bad dreams A joyful based menagerie that breathes inside of me The gift to be a reason for dotting all the I’s To cry when I’m happy And shine when full of pride.38

You seemed so far away.

Mi ss Honey w hispe red, a we struck.

Oh, I was. I was flying past the stars on silver wings .

Ma tilda sa id.

It was wonderful.

R OA L D D A H L

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UP

IN

LIGHTS

One morning I awoke with a smile the dream I had came from a child it pictured Christmas all the lights It was so hard to sleep that night I knew Santa was on his way I couldn’t wait for the next day I pictured gifts that I would get Santa never failed, he doesn’t neglect I saw a doll and lots of clothes I couldn’t believe I’d gotten all those I sang and danced and was surprised Till I got up to realize (it was a dream).

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U N PA C K I N G I’ve always made excuses for little things I do Which turned out to be big problems I simply couldn’t subdue Pull cats from hats, awaken bats Cartoons got in my way When philosophy, psychology are logics of today Pulled out guns and haunted ones That chose to live the rules I didn’t care who, what or where How could I be so cruel To never look back at the past is my major quest Close my eyes, not realize I’m stuck in a big mess.

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Free in g yo urs el f was o n e th in g ; Cla im in g ow n er s h ip o f th at freed self was an other.

T O N I M OR R I S O N

T O B E F OUND God has never, ever left me alone Even when I was barren without house, home Not fielding a harvest I’ve sat through most feasts A singin’ & dancin’ while doing the least Collecting taxed wages I spent by myself Not caring but daring for somebody else He’s always been there, I couldn’t believe it Through all the hustle & bustle How else could I achieve it?

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A N A GREEMENT Part I Coming to an agreement of no other source I’ll live on my limits, recoup what I’ve lost Stop gambling my wages I’d lose before spent Rejoice under pressure, cry when it’s all ent.

Begin from beginning, seek help from above, Discover a new boundary build on hope and love.

Part II The beauty of the beast is there to behold Not shown upon the outside Not what you’ve been told.

It hides within the skin cells, The bones and the blood Raptured in a sculpture of heavenly love.

It hides from open eyes For they fail to see.

Comradery of a kingdom where they cease to be.

Part III Today is the first day of the rest of my life I know I can do it, be naughty or not With each every year I’ve tried to turn Every sow and each reap, Seems to be what I have earned.

Relentless pressure always tries to consume me I hope for today I just won’t let it use me Patience a virtue, laughters, calms, sorrows All I can do it look forward to tomorrow.

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O ur de epe st fea r is not tha t w e a re i na de qua te .

O ur de epe st fea r is tha t w e a re pow e rful beyond mea sure .

MARIANNE WILLIAMSON

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CHIEF If I had the chance to start all over I’d destroy all my faults, like a four leaf clover I’d look for the best in all my adventures Remodel my old stones, remove them like dentures.

Set forth to conquer a healthy intwine Be leader not follower along the line.

PRESIDENT I pledge allegiance to the flag Upon this blessed soil I brag I represent so many states How dare I to discriminate I’m here to balance out the land Vote yes, we go, I take a stand The right for justice is my plan Security for every man.

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RAIN I hate to get caught in the rain This day and age I am to blame They sell umbrellas at every store So there’s no reason to ignore Boots are made to keep feet dry There’s just no reason I couldn’t buy The weather man said yesterday Tomorrow wouldn’t be my day I shouldn’t get caught in the rain There’s just no reason to explain Let it rain!

BACKFIELD

IN

M OT I O N

They’re playing my song My buttocks are heavy They’re build like King Kong They shake when I move them They’re very perplexed When I use the bathroom There’s no room to stretch Motive of operations Is now left up to science Whatever the plan be I hope it’s reliant.

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You have brains in your head.

You have feet in your shoes.

You can steer yourself Any direction you choose.

You’re on your own.

And you know what you know.

And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go.

Oh! The Places You’ll Go! DR. S EUSS

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A C K N OW L E D G E M E N T S As a small, grassroots organization, NY Writers Coalition relies on the generous support of those dedicated to getting the voices of those who have been silenced heard. Many thanks go to our foundation, government, and corporate supporters, without whom this writing community and publication would not exist: Amazon.com, CreateSpace, the Kalliopeia Foundation, Lillian Goldman Charitable Trust, and the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs.

We rely heavily on the support of individual NYWC members and attendees of our annual Write-A-Thon. In addition, members of our Board of Directors have kept this vital, rewarding work going year after year: Jennifer Belle, Louise Crawford, Shaina Feinberg, Marian Fontana, Sandy Huang, Lisa Smith, and NYWC Founder and Executive Director Aaron Zimmerman.

We’d also like to thank Colleen Pierce Breslin, NYWC’s volunteer workshop leader who made this book happen, and the dedicated workshop members and staff at Serendipity: Ms. Alexander, Ms. Hernandez, Ms. Armstrong, Ms. Daniels, Ms. Evans, Ms. Cook, and Ms. Cruz.

Donna Gayle Fleming would also like to thank her cousin Karen Baldwin, her daughter Nereida Smalls, and all the poets for their inspiration -- especially Dr. Seuss and Maya Angelou.

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A B O U T N Y W R I T E R S C OA L I T I O N

NY Writers Coalition (NYWC) is a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization that creates opportunities for formerly voiceless members of society to be heard through the art of writing.

One of the largest community-based writing organizations in the country, we provide free, unique and powerful creative writing workshops throughout New York City for people from groups that have been historically deprived of voice in our society, including at-risk, disconnected, and LGBT youth, homeless and formerly homeless people, those who are incarcerated and formerly incarcerated individuals, war veterans, people living with disabilities, cancer, and other major illnesses, immigrants, seniors, and many others.

For more information about our work and NY Writers Coalition Press publications visit W W W . N Y W R I TE R S C OA L I TI ON . OR G .

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N Y W RITERS C OALITION PRESS is proud to present Madonna a poetry collection by NYWC workshop member D o n n a G ay l e Fleming.

Photography & Editing by Colleen Pierce Breslin

Born in Kings County Hospital on May 3, 1957, Donna arrived to this world an observer, to a clan of exceptional women. Her mother collected degrees to become a dedicated educator of Brooklyn's children while her grandmother tended to Donna's spiritual garden.

Donna composed her first pieces of poetry on walks home from Sunday service. Always with a bright serious mind, she excelled in her studies and watched life’s unfolding.

Words came to her early in life.

Imagination did also. But home in childhood she did not find. By the time she was making decisions for herself, the light and dark notes of life’s music were composing her direction. She was dancing.

C OLLEEN P IERCE B RESLIN NYWC Workshop Leader

For more publications from N Y W RITERS C OALITION PRESS visit our online bookstore at 52 WWW. NYWRITERSCOALITION. ORG