Tag Archives: English

#93: A Game of Charades

I could hear him crying in the bathroom,

It was the third time this week,

And as much as he tried to lie,

He was just as broken as the rest of us,


He was the master of charades,

Every smile he ever wore was a front,

A constant effort to be strong,

To have it all together,


He stifled his cries,

But I could feel the vibrating pulses of a broken soul,

The door opened,

And I saw his silhouette,


Against the back drop of the bathroom light,

I saw him smile again,

It didn’t take him to long,

To return to his game of charades


© Aisha-Nicole 2016

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#79: Trouble & Troubled.

Troubled news makes for troubled knees,

Troubled knees give way to wobbly streets,

Dark alleys lead to mischief,

And empty souls all look the same,

Trouble starts with the words you say,

And calamity is her shadow.

©Aisha-Nicole 2014

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#74: And So the Story Goes

It was the way he said it,


Leaning in close,

I caught the faint smell of bourbon,


Delicately playing with the folds of my skirt,

My eyes surveyed every crevice, and every fine line from aging,


He was a master at games,

Growing cold,

Leaving me wandering,

Begging for more,


His lips teased me

And then he kissed me


Made me forget,


Made me long to be his

And only his alone,

But that was a long time ago

I was naïve and he was a master at his craft,

And so the story goes.


©Aisha-Nicole 2014

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#72: Inhale

I tasted your past,

Loved it for what it had made you,

I inhaled your dreams,

Intertwined them with mine,

I let you in,

And I thought you had done the same,

But sometimes,

Secrets lie in between warm sheets.

© Aisha-Nicole 2014

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#65: Life Value

What is the value of life?

How do we determine the great and the easily forgotten?

Is it by accomplishments or likability?

Or is it by the sheer fact that they lived and were loved?

Life is here and gone tomorrow,

Just ask those that are laying in their graves

©Aisha-Nicole 2014

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#62: My Retreat

I hid in your arms


Waited for your hands to cradle me

Your fingers to sooth me


But that was asking too much


Our arrangement hinged on no emotional responsibilities

And I had already signed the release forms

So I retreated to my space


Waited for the morning

And sadly never came back


©Aisha-Nicole 2014

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#57: Toxic


You were toxic,

The drug I desperately needed,


With back chills, warm nights,

And memories etched with you,


You were what my body wanted,

And ultimately what killed it.


©Aisha-Nicole 2014


*Press, Like and Share*

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#15: My Dirty Little Secret.

I had a reason behind starting this blog. I love writing and sharing my opinions, but I especially like writing poems. As in spoken word and finger snapping. Not a lot of people know that I write, not even some of my closest friends. Writing poetry followed after one of the worst periods in my life.

It happened in a moment and by the time I was done writing I was left with a masterpiece. A collection of all my pent-up feelings, the things I wished I could speak out loud but didn’t quite know how to say it.

With that said I have finally decided to put on my big girl panties and actually post a poem. Now I have to be honest, I have thought about someone stealing my words or intellectual property as Google puts it. However, I recently found a website where I can insure my words are attributed to me. That just means don’t steal. It’s not nice kids. If you like it (which I hope you do) please credit it to me.

I would be much obliged. So here goes..fingers crossed:

Humbled, I wait.

I held my pen to the paper,

What used to be a magical moment,

A synchronization of heart and words,

Is now a tedious task,

An awkward string of formalities,

Having taken for granted what used to come so easy,

My pen becomes limp between two fingers,

No longer is there harmony,

And after two hours,

My paper still lays empty.

I’m grasping and inhaling,

Trying to revitalize,

That which was just alive,

But my attempts prove futile,

And now I sit, humbled.

Believing my talent would wait,

Ignorant to what I once possessed,

I am Humbled and I wait.

© Aisha Nicole 2012

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#10: R.I.P Grammar

Join me as I raise my glass and wave good-bye to good grammar.

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m no English teacher, and occasionally I get comma happy. You may even find grammar issues in this blog, and if you do, I apologize in advance.  With that said, I do try to  put coherent sentences together. In an age where texting is such a powerful force of communication, I don’t know how long good communications skills will last.

I’m young so I use texting a lot, and sometimes it’s simply easier to abbreviate words. Sadly, between auto correct (which is the culprit of some awkward texts) and the push to consolidate a conversation into a text message, my grammar has taking a few hits.  Maybe it’s just me and that may be the case.  However, I remember a time when I didn’t have to look up words on how to spell them, yet now I sit for an embarrassing amount of time trying to think of how to spell a simple word.

Sometimes I wonder what communication will look like in the future. Between “lol” and “ttyl” or one of my new favorites “yolo” we might have a new language entirely.

Perhaps good grammar isn’t dead all together but in my opinion it’s struggling to survive.

Just a thought


P.S Y.O.L.O Translated: You. Only. Live. Once.  (Modern day Carpe Diem lol)

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I Am What I Write.

Welcome to my blog, it’s dedicated for my slam poetry and the occasional sprinkle of randomness.

So why bother writing?

First, I am not Shakespeare or Edgar Allan Poe or Maya Angelou. I am me and that is both beautiful and simple. With that in mind, my writing is giving the chance to grow and be unique to that which is already present.

I am What I write. And I write What I am.

Simple enough right?

Hope you enjoy, and more importantly I hope it blesses  you and you find something to relate too as well. We are all different yet the human journey knows no color ( hmmm I rather like that, i feel a copyright ensuing).



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