COME ON OUT TONIGHT AND AUDITION 🎭 Looking for our HAKEEM 😊
Cary Players, in association with N.Y.I. Productions LLC will hold auditions on Wednesday, December 19th at 6:30 pm in the Cary Arts Center Studio M-50 for actors to play the role of Hakeem, a 9-yr. old African-American boy, in the production of Men Always Leave. Please bring a short monologue or poem to read. The director will have sides from the script for you to read at the audition.
Come out to the Open Mic & Music Video Release Party this Friday!!! September 28th and catch the EXCLUSIVE. World Wide Release to be Announced after Friday September 28th! Register with us by: September 27th!!
Pre-Order your autographed copy today!
Open Mic Night
Wednesday, October 18, 6:30-8:30pm
Bring poems, stories, or essays! Sign-up for the 12, 5-minute slots starting at 6:30. Social hour will follow across the street at The Station.
Our featured reader this month is Naima Yetunde Ince.
So & So Bookstore: 704 N Person St, Raleigh, NC 27604
Come sign up to share at the open mic! I am looking forward to sharing some poetry with you from my newest book "Ghost Load" a collection of poetry.
This was written in celebration of my Great Auntie Rubie Parker. This pass Friday she has transition to be with the Almighty God. This past April she celebrated 90 years of Life. Here is how I expressed a true tribute to her and her life. She meant the world to our family.
Enjoy reading this poem by me, which best describes how truly special and dynamic she truly was.
Celebrating Your 90 Years
90 years of Grace
The most beautiful way
This word holds Power
Coupled with dignified
The four words combined,
Powerful, graceful, dignified woman
Is the best way to identify-
The matriarch of Our family. Rubie Parker.
Rubie with an I.E “not” to be mistaken for y
There is no “why” to be described
Your value to-this realm of life.
You have blessed many,
Loved by all, humbled by your journey.
I am honored to be amongst your blood
We all gather here, on this day to celebrate
Your life, and honor your name, you are surrounded
By the power, your grace introduced to the very fabric
Of spanning generations, we call you
momma, sister, auntie, friend, wife and-
many other hats you wear to match-
your reflective choice of style
You stand tall in all.
Your beauty is elegance
Your presentation to the world-
Is nothing less than dynamic, super fly
And in today’s words the young folks would say—
you my dear have swagger.
Reflections of your power,
Can be found in the success of your children
The brightness in the eyes and smiles of your grandchildren.
Because of you, I am Yetunde, sharing a birthday with your
Wonderful mother Irene Elvira Thornhill Jordan,
By my name, I am reminded—
Of the special link in the bloodline.
The tokens of knowledge you bestowed
Beneath the memories, you captured in photographs;
Cards preserved; travels around the world.
Your resilience is remarkable,
A young woman, clever, spicy with a sense
Of serious humor.
Always ready to break into a song
Or show off your moves on the dance floor,
The beats, carry your vehicle to express.
Voyaged to the United States
At 18 years of age from Panama
Desiring to make this place home.
You became home to many family members,
Who journeyed far,
With the same fire in their hearts and eyes for better.
Your Spiciness, spunky and loving heart
Lead you to a love in Theodore Parker
Coupled, your love, joyful, fun, humorous ways—
Your commitment to your community
Love for church and God,
And your generosity is admirable
We embrace you,
We cherish you and we will always remember
Cheers to Auntie Rubie Parker,
That’s Rubie with an I.E not to be
Mistaken for “Y” there is no “why”
To be described you are
And always will be valued,
Cherished and loved.
For your spiciness, for your generosity
For your love, for your dedication.
There is no better way to describe the matriarch
Of our family, other than---
A graceful, powerful and dignified woman
Today we celebrate you and your 90 years of grace.
Naima Yetunde Ince
His tamed beard swept the back of my neck.
Each stroke felt like cotton strides against my soul my eyes darted,
as if to penetrate a hole in the wall
my temperature boiling only because he craves the unknown
the desire to explore and extract glistening chunks
of my love, I fold in his touch and strong hold
he wraps hugs like heresy kisses and his lips match his sweetness
I do not want to journey him, I do not have strength, to embrace his hand as if;
It’s the goal of a lifeline.
I do not I wonder why butterflies flutter,
or why people follow their heart
or why the butterflies seem to have celebrations at your core?
The butterflies, life span is short lived, this elated, euphoric, paradise, fantasy
of “love” is farfetched to a realistic materialization
I do not, he is stretching for knowledge buried between my ribcage.
He is caressing the open sores and battle scares and desiring to be a nurse. He is, withstanding, my anger, my bitter sweetness, and out right meanness….
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