My skin settles with the evening skies
It dwells in the darkness of night
In the morning time, it awakes
Still in its beauty


-LaToya Martin

He went on and on about his childhood
About how he walked miles to school barefoot in snow
Oh how we chuckled to his many stories
Grandpa spoke about where he and grandma first met
He rambled about life
And how the news was so important to watch
How saving money was mandatory
And material things wasn’t
I remember the smell of his homemade biscuits
baking in the morning
Long before the rooster crowed
He attended his garden faithfully as if resting was a sin
Grandpa’s words were heard miles away
Even if he spoke in silence
As a child he didn’t have presents for Christmas
So he explained that we should be thankful
Even if nothing was wrapped with a bow and given as a gift
I remember as he sat in his recliner
And his gray hair shimmered under the lights
And how all of us kids would laugh when he and grandma argued
This year will be different
Now it’s our time to reminiscence about him
He has decided to finally rest
Because Grandpa won’t be here this Christmas
                                                              
                                           -LaToya Martin

Sold for what she wasn’t created to be
Given for the pleasure of another
Oh how pain is now her newfound love
Beaten by the hands that constantly degrade her
Forced to love those same hands
Wants to give up
But struggles for her children
Oh, dear Rebecca
Thrown away into tomorrow’s day
Seeing a future that can’t be visible
Oh how she once admired the sun
But now angry at its rays
For it despises her skin
Here today
But wishes she was gone tomorrow
Ready to meet the God
Who left her, she claims
Now hanging from the same tree
Her grandmother once owned
Now a breeze of the field
Finally released and allowed to return home
My Dear Rebecca

I love you
But yet I hate you
You are the hope of my future
You were my guidance in my past
My father despised you
But my mother adored you
You were her will to live
You were a constant guest in our home
You were the scent my mother wore daily
She neglected me for the happiness of you
She confided in you
But your greed took her away
After all the hurt and pain you caused
I welcomed you back into my life
But now you are my foundation
I finally see what my mother saw in you
You helped her cope with her wounds
Even though you helped cause them
My family doesn’t understand you
And honestly nor do I
You’ve ruined my past
And I have acknowledged
That you have ruined my future
You are the end of my tunnel
My Whiskey Bottle

-LaToya Martin

Gardener, why was I planted here?
What did you see?
The gardener replied, a little **** from the earth standing with nobody
But the sun burns, said the ****
When the rain pours, it hurts
At times I am buried and feel unwanted by the dirt
Don’t you see I’m weak?
Many thoughts but can barely speak
Oh, gardener, I beg you, please release me
I’m not clothed in beauty or appealing to see
Wait! Don’t walk on by
Don’t you see my pain?
No strength, no roots, much loss, much shame
All I ask is that you release thee
So I can stand with the weeds
Who once stood by me
The gardener replied,
Oh, little ****
So well-spoken yet quite demanding
I will not release thee because
You are withered and burned
But yet still standing

                         -LaToya Martin