Diary of a Poet Week 4

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Wow! Firstly, I want to apologize for being away for such a long time, I promise you that I will never neglect you again. I have been so busy pushing my new book that I completely forgot about my blog. To keep up with my daily activities I recommend that you follow me on Instagram @saccheenlaing_poet. So what has this poet been up to? Well this week I launched my T-shirt line, a line featuring some of my quotes and poems. Being a poet and not having much of a social life leaves me with all the time in the world to focus on ways to push my writing more. I'm not suggesting that a social life isn't important I'm just putting it out there that it can be difficult for a poet who often times tends to love her words more than she loves human interactions.

I'm not sure it it's the same for other poets but I tend to feel overwhelmed having day to day conversations but as soon as I curl up and star to write or read I feel at complete ease and so comfortable with myself. I've been trying to step out and meet people and interact more but I'm thinking of throwing in the towel as I find myself using words that may come off as offensive to people. It's not that I lack communication skills as I am a great public speaker but when it comes to socializing in a formal setting I always find a reason to get out of it.

I want to hear from my fellow writers and poets!

Is socializing with others easy or difficult for you?

SHARE your experience here on my blog

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The Young are being murdered

The death of the young By:©Saccheen Laing I put on my uniform Armed with books I set out in search of a good education. Streets lined with the blood stains of those who fell on the way I'm determined to live to see another day But I have no control over those who believe they can have their own way. Armed with guns and knives They attack me, They assault me, They abuse me , Because they believe they have control over me Because of guns and knives in hand. In my hands I write my plans A singer, an actor, a doctor, a fashion designer or a police man I clench my fist as my blood runs to join those who fell before My plans remain in my hands Never to be realized I am young but that means nothing on this land. The blood of the young will replace the ocean that surrounds and beautifies the land How many more shall die before you answer when I ask why? My mother shall cry and bury her son before he becomes a man My brot...

Loving a black man that doesn't love me

Image source: Google Images His beautiful dark skin made rich from the earth, his physical strength supporting where I am physically weak, his beautiful smile and then the depth of his speech. In a world where the wrongs that he has done is spoken about more frequently than what is good about him. I see the beauty in black unions,I see the beauty in black souls connecting, I see beauty in being by his side. The issue is, he no longer sees beauty in me. We walk paths these days paved with the broken connections. Couples who once professed to be so deeply in love now pretend to not know each other. We walk paths where you can pour the purest of love into the vessel of a man/woman and they remain empty. On one side, we have black men who believe that black women have lost their worth. They have lost the meaning of what it means to be a Queen. The black man believes that the black woman has wrapped herself in the labels that society has placed on her. The black woman is ofte...

The Jamaica of tomorrow

When shall the change come? Crime and violence ago continue and mash up Jamdung? Street lights come on at night and our window lids we shut tight tight No kids on the street, no time to meet and greet Why can't we no longer walk at nights? Why we don't have no peace? Police men guard the streets Kids run quickly pass them not sure if they police or just undercover gunman and thief Thousands complete their university education but student loan awaits them in every gleaner publication Jamaica is such a beautiful nation, nice food and nuff happiness and sweet jubilation Wait a moment and turn the TV off the international station Turn the dial to our local station No more happiness and sweet jubilation Blood flowing in the streets of poverty and ever increasing destruction You have the answers? Tell us how we need a change in politics Five years time and we still have the same corruption You tell me to smile because better must come I ...

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