#sharea

[tekmodetech]

32 new buses to operate on Sharea Faisal by next month 32 new buses to operate on Sharea Faisal by next month The News International Full coverage Source link

[srsinharmoniaprogressio]

. Seloso - Selakno Ngamal Sopo Marang-sopo . Selakno ngamal marang sopo-sopo (sempatkan bermal to anyone) is the meaning of seloso day (Tuesday). As we all still given a life very long a time to do good to anyone. Charity did not have to use the material. Using the energy and the mind can do. Because the most important of these things is sincere. . . #meenerkoe #kitaIndonesia #sharea ndlike #pinterest #g+

[romanymalco]

Today I'm honoring @TamiRoman for elevating the set #PrisonLogic. She comes full of #AGame and crushes every scene she's in. Tami plays #Sharea, @TijuanaJackson's sister. #DirectorsLife #PurposeOverPaper

[romanymalco]

Humble thanks to my beautiful costar, @TamiRoman for getting back into the look of #Sharea for one day of reshoots on set of #PrisonLogic. To get involved please click link in bio! 🙏🙏🙏 Unit: @therealtashad# install: @bellatressbeautique

[modernpoetrycompanion]

Sharea Harris is a spoken word artist and poet.  She has curated, founded and managed spoken word showcases and slams throughout the southern region. Her debut album, the One and Some EP, was given a warm reception both domestically and overseas. She now lives in Baltimore, MD where she's an MFA Candidate, Writing Consultant and Writer in Residence for Women Unified in Consciousness.   The work presented to you is a poem she's performed all over. Enjoy. 

[shareathesound]

I was talking to my mother.

She has found resistance from her new lover concerning her seasonal decorating. To clarify, my mother decorates for every major holiday. She has ample figurines, ornate boxes and garlands, interactive doodads, and trinkets that find themselves placed on the corners and shelves of our once shared home. My brother, would help her bring them down from the attic; she would place them where she felt they would best fit the holiday esthetic. My part to play, which was totally unintentional; I played rebel on the surface, was to bring ooooers and aaaaaaahhhhers to see our home playing physical manifestation of the holiday idea. Eventually, as her ritual spilled to the property outside our home, my friend would ask to come in and see.
I first thought it a bother and trivial; however, seeing the joy it gave my mother and the awe in others faces warmed me to the ritual.

With time and distance we reminisce.

Upon our recollection I remembered how I told the time by the decorations. I, have never been grounded to time. It slips on and on around me. I have learned to become more conscious of it’s running. I am very African in my view of time as a circular and experience-driven; as oppose to a western view of time as linear and to be chased. In any case, my mother’s holiday decoration ritual rings like an ancient ceremony to usher in the celebrated deities of holiday. This ritual’s order grounded me, made me feel more a partner with time than a distant associate. I now see my mother as tuned into some ancient practice of time keeper, giving due to the season approaching; ushering in it’s majesty and beauty and blessing; each knickknack and doodad, an offering and validation that this holiday is important, and welcomed in our home. I love it now.

We think about how homes are shaped by the women who keep them. We also discussed how women build their homes for comfort. Her lover is so into being in her home. He finds it welcoming and nurturing. Its true, it feels like my mother. Every inch of the space relates to her, in some way. It is wonderful. My grandmothers, like myself and my mother are also dwellers*. We dwellers create beautiful, nurturing environments. My father’s mother is a master dweller. My mother suggests it’s because she was raised in a time when the only thing that was safe and available to you as a black person was your home. However, my fathers mother grew up in Birmingham, AL (Bombingham to many), a black woman’s home was NOT sacred or safe. 
However, she being a master host and dweller has one of the most inviting and comforting homes I’ve ever been in. To me especially, the home was magic and all it’s secrets were scripture to me. The last time I saw my grandmother she showed me how to make the perfect table setting. She showed me, between recollections and family secrets. I took it all in quietly, realizing this was a sacred moment between master and apprentice; between grandmother and daughter. Looking back, she has passed a rich heritage to me. I open my own home in her spirit to those who seek peace, calm, conversation, and food.

Lately, I have imagined a woman’s home is much like being in her womb.

I am thankful for my mothers. They have taught me what it’s like to be human, woman, black and survive. Though our bodies are distant, my heart holds the lesson.

Welcome all you who come here. Perhaps one day you can visit my home, for now this web space will have to do. Ashe.

*the term dweller was actually given to me by my dear friend Yatsura Still. While I resonates with a facet of who I am, it is not mine to claim.

[shareathesound]

I've been spotlighted ya'll! 

As most of you know, I attend the MFA Creative Writing & Pub Arts Program at University of Baltimore. This wonderful program has recently received funding to start their very first GRADUATE run lit press! The first publication of this press is a compilation of current MFA work. I'm pleased to have been one of the writers to make the cut. I am excited and honored. 

The work that was accepted was birthed during my first semester in this program. The poem is named, " When I Carried You to the Clinic" - the line spotlighted in this graphic is taken from the first stanza of the poem. I am so thrilled that THIS line was taken - I have loved this line and often this line nursed the tone through the rest of the piece's conception. The real labor and love of this particular poem is that each stanza is written in haiku syllable style however, the flow of the poem makes this almost invisible to the unknowing eye (so I have found thus far).   

It was my greatest joy not only to write this piece and her sisters (she is the middle sister), but to have her loved by all who have read her. It was especially wonderful for my classmates who watched her and her sister mature through workshop to love them and nurture them as well. I am so happy to be a creator. I am so happy to have these poems loved and have this one published. 

Visit the Plorkology Facebook Page to see more spotlights and progress as the book finishes and we prepare for the book release celebration.