Ntozake Shange

These poems make me think, how do I express how i really feel inside.I AM not happy or sad, mad or glad rich or poor, fat or skinny, black or white, liked or hated, tall or short, pretty or ugly, i am an acquired taste, you have to let me grow on you, i am neither liked or disliked, i guess i am an puzzle.

My favorite after James Weldon Johnson's God's Trombones. I was lady in red. It is what I am remembered for in my community! I sure would love to use it as a read for a scholarship fundraiser later this year. How do I obtain rights to direct this exceptional work!

I was in the choreopoem, For Colored Girls... many years, ago at a local, UC theatre. It was awesome trying to perform a role and accomplish the intricate details of the character identified by her Red garments. My monologue was Enuf. I could relate to practically all of it. It was not too far off from an ordinary woman's recount of some indelible moment that was washed away, down the drain of her recollections. It was a very intimate portrayal that had the audience on the edge of their seats. Wait...a minute...I could feel the thunderous tension and knew the lines would not come out. So, I improvised and cut to the end. OMG! That was the most difficult moment for my acting career. I almost quit after that. But, after reliving what on earth happened to me that night, I can say it was educational and made me empathetic to other actors whose roles take them beyond their capacities into a realm where they have absolutely no control over any of it. That is scary but will pass and leave you, albeit, scarred or not scarred for life. Try to memorize all of those lines from Enuf and see if you can recite it for an attentive audience. Do you make it through? Regardless, how could you not love the writings of the wonderfully self-possessed, Ms. Ntozake Shange? Become educated by her works and you, too may experience quantum leaps of personal growth and development as a a bona fide human being with a cache of analog and digital memoirs. Enjoy this forever.

Thes poems maek meh barf I haet dem wit a pashun