Welcome to Urban Image Magazine


Tag archive for ‘african american writers’

When Your World Falls Apart by Darrell Freeman Jr.

How do you cope when your world falls apart?

What pep talk do you tell yourself?

Do you tell yourself it’s gonna get better?

Do you pick up the pieces and continue to live?

Do you look in the mirror and tell yourself to continue to be strong?

Or do you continue to keep on keeping on?

What do you do when your world falls apart?

Do you get on your knees and pray

or do you just give up hope?

The answer is within you…

You must decide what’s best for you.

It’s easy to just give up hope.

But remember, one day it will get better.

Find the strength and determination in your heart,

and put your world back together.

Trials and pain is a part of life,

as well as happiness and freedom.

What do you do after your world falls apart?

Is the reflection of the strength and endurance in your heart

when your world falls apart?

Get up and start all over again,

without you, you can’t win.

There’s always hope, even when you feel

like you’re at the end of your rope.

Every day is a day to do better!

Every day is a chance to get it together.

When your world falls apart,

simply get up and start again.


Melody S.’ notes: This is a truly inspiring piece and I’m so happy to have been given the opportunity to showcase it here!

Tagged as , , , , , ,
Categorized as Blog Topics, Def Poetry, Blog Topics, Empowerment Issues & Politics

Misused and Abused by Emiaj Ahdai

This time will be the last time he does this to me.

This time “I love you” will not work.

I am sure love doesn’t hurt like this.

He always says he will never do it again.

Well that is always short lived.

I gather myself,

I try to talk myself out a few things,

but one thing I have to admit is that my mirror doesn’t tell lies.

A black eye this time.

The last time it was bruised rib cage.

I picked up my makeup bag and tried to conceal today’s damage.

I am not sure what I even did this time.

Did I offend him in some way, by using the wrong choice of words?

Like I said I can’t remember even what I said.


Gathering my thoughts, I am sitting here thinking about my life.

My life didn’t use to be like this.

The bubbly I had somehow faded with time.

The ambition that everyone saw in my eyes seemed to be a distant memory.

I once wanted to be a dancer.

I had danced all of my life.

I was even accepted into to a school of the art.

Supposed to be critics said I had promise and that could make it far in the industry.

With that I pushed myself harder.

Dancing is what I ate, dancing is what I breathed.

All I saw in my future was me dancing on stage behind my favorite artist on a world tour.

Dancing was going to allow me to see the world pass the city limits.

I was leaving and looking back was not an option

Life was amazing but I felt like something was missing.

Cloud nine can also get a little lonely from time to time.

So when I did return home to visit meeting him seemed ok.

I still wanted to have relationships.

I still at this point in life I hadn’t experienced that love other dancers would talk about.

Calling home and talking for hours with their love.

Their love coming up for performances.

Love seemed to be this wonderful thing and I could possibly experience it with him.


The way he touched me, the way he saw through me.

He was the only person who got to know the real me inside and out.

So it was easy to fall in love, especially when he understands me.

He supported me, he moved closer to me.

He was making sacrifices for me.

Love makes sacrifices, right?

The time was a push into the wall,

because I asked “What have been doing all day?”

See he couldn’t find work.

So I dancing and being on tour paid the bills.

He had sacrificed for my craft.


Have sacrifices.

The second time he threw a plate at me and missed me by an inch.

All because the food got cold.

See I was talking to my agent on the phone because he had me a new booking.

I forgot I made his plate and didn’t tell him it was ready.

Then I lost count,

I just seemed like every other day it was something new.

It was like he would try to be careful.

Never my face, never my legs, never my arms.

Nothing ever visible to the naked eye.

At an early age I learned how to bandage me wounds.

Dancing caused twisted ankles,

swollen toes, and bruises in places that you never knew could be bruised because of a fall.

So going to the hospital wasn’t needed.

Covering a black eye will be easy.


Time passes since his last episode.

The beatings have stopped.

But the mental abuse is still there.

He has found work, great work.

He manages the bills, but all of sudden dancing is not enough anymore…

“Why can’t you get a job with normal work hours?’


“Aren’t you getting a little too old to be chancing this dream?

You are starting look your age.”

Never too hold to chase my dream, because it was that mine.

The one thing that was keeping me pieced together.

He wanted me to stay home. That is not what I wanted.

Well when I didn’t quit, and do what he wanted.

He shattered my ankle in three places when he pushed me to the ground.


My dream shattered…

So now I am forced to stay home, again this not what I wanted.

I have to get away.

I have to get out of here.

I can’t stay here.

Move forward with my life.

But I have nowhere to go.

I gained some strength from in my belly.

I had to make a plan.

Leave in the middle of the night.

Once again no looking back.

Unknown to him I had packed everything that I needed.

And left…

Nowhere to go, no one to call.

I was so ashamed of the things I had allowed myself to go through.

How could I explain this?

How could I face anyone?

I had already stopped talking to my friends;

I just figured no one would understand.


I have this little house.

I feel somewhat safe here.

I sometimes feel like I am being watched.

I keep a routine.

Everyday a different road is traveled.

I know he has tried to find me, I know he has.

The fact I still live in fear of him finding will probably never go away.

I can’t date, I can’t love, and I can’t do anything.

Now I can’t breathe, there is a sharp pain piercing my sides.

I try to scream but there is no sound.


I scream and I fight.


Protect my baby, protect my child.

Please don’t hurt my baby.

Then nothing, no sound, just silence.

No more air, no more here.

I am sitting here in this room quietly waiting.

Then a voice comes out of nowhere.

I recognize it.

“My child you can’t be hurt here, you shall never suffer again, and the pain of life has stopped. You shall have everlasting life by my side.

Let your heart be at peace.”

But what about my baby…

“She is with me and can’t wait to see you.

Let your heart be at peace so you can rest in heaven with me.”


Tagged as , , , , , , ,
Categorized as Blog Topics, Dating & Relationships, Blog Topics, Def Poetry, Blog Topics, Empowerment Issues & Politics

Forbidden to Love You by Angela Williams

I have roamed the Earth for centuries looking for you

Your scent feels my senses

The vision of your face is etched in my mind

My skin still remembers your caresses

Lovers so long ago

Yet you don’t remember me


A love so timeless yet never the right time

I have travelled across deserts, over oceans, through forests….

I have braved the elements to get to you

I have moved mountains and people just to be in your presence

I have died to protect you

Yet you don’t remember me


No matter the time or place

I always find you

Drawn to you because you are my soul …. mate

Waiting for you to recognize me so that I can be freed from the prison of loneliness

Yearning for the kiss that breathes renewed life into this tired body

Aching for the touch that ignites me with passion and inflames my skin with heat

Seeking the look of recognition in your eyes

Yet you don’t remember me


My journey continues

Tears fall as I roam the Earth

Knowing that one day soon you will recognize me.

Tagged as , , ,
Categorized as Blog Topics, Dating & Relationships, Blog Topics, Def Poetry, Blog Topics, Empowerment Issues & Politics

I Am Me by Keshia Cook

I am me. Just lil old me
Nothing more nothing less
I can only be me so tell me
why is it so hard for you to
accept me the way I am?

I am me. Just lil old me
Why should I have to hide
Why should I have to change
I can’t be something I’m not
Explain to me why won’t you love me.

I am me. Just lil old me
A tree in the breeze I do
nothing to wrong you so
why don’t you like me?

I am me. Just lil old me
Nothing but what God
made me this who I am
Nothing more nothing less

Melody S.’ notes: Two snaps in a circle baby because Ms. Keshia Cook wasn’t playing around with this piece! I’m loving this one!

Tagged as , , , , ,
Categorized as Blog Topics, What Do You Think

In His Arms by Myzphenomenal

In His Arms you bury your head into his chest and release tears of anguish fury and disbelief.

Gently he caresses your back and says those four little words you were longing to hear.

Not “Everything will be alright” but “I’ll make everything better”

and at that moment a ton of burden is lifted from your chest and into his hands,

but to him feels as light as a feather.


Trust is elevated

and at most high because hearing those words from his honey thick voice makes it ooze from his skin.

Unknowingly you find out not only does he sympathize but he empathized

because once in his life not only has he felt the same way,

but you’d once said those same words

and lifted a similar burden from his body reassuring you of his motives of loving you.


His arms wear scars from childhood, hard work and labor,

to him they’re not appealing,

to you they’re a work of art.

It should be part of the suffix ology because you’ve studied every detail of his skin,

down to the six beauty marks and a tiny recent cut on his left leg right below his knee.

Those arms scream protection when they’re around you.

Not just physical protection,

but protection from what the world thinks of you.

In those arms there’s no judgment, in those arms there’s no need to be perfect,

contradicting his kind hold on you, in his arms you are liberated.

Just longing to be in his arms.


Melody S.’ notes: Wow! This is one of those pieces that I’d love to hear and see a poet perform. There is real passion and emotion in this one…

Tagged as , , , , ,
Categorized as Blog Topics, Dating & Relationships, Blog Topics, Def Poetry, Blog Topics, Empowerment Issues & Politics, Blog Topics, Sexual Expressions