Heffa
'Don't let me chase you...
Heffa! '
My mother would say this,
Before she did my sister's hair.
And I would sit in a chair...
To watch my sister.
And she would cry and I would stare.
'What you looking at? '
My sister Mimmie would say!
I'm looking at you!
What you gonna do?
'You kids better not start nothing with me.
Hold your head still, girl!
And don't you say another word, Larry! '
I would think to myself...
'Is Mimmie a 'heffa' when she gets her hair done?
Why when I called her that...
She would chase me,
And I would run?
Then my mother would say,
'Would you kids stop that!
Both of you get on my last nerve.
Stop that fighting crap.'
Ma, what is a 'heffa'?
And why is Mimmie one?
Is it the way she looks...
When her hair is undone?
If I called her that,
She wants to fight with me.
Daddy don't call her a heffa.
Why do you...
Exclusively?
My mother would look at me,
As if I was crazed.
I could tell in her eyes,
She was trying for 'something' to say!
I never heard my mother curse.
She didn't have to back then.
But I grew to understand...
'Heffa' was a word,
Black women shared between them!
And my sister Mimmie...
Thought she needed to keep me in 'check'!
And 'if' I didn't leave her alone...
A grown man I would never become or get!
I grew up in a family of very strong willed 'heffuhs'!
Dedicated to:
Those women in my family whom I love dearly.
And I have learned what they say to each other,
And amongst themselves...
Is between them as women!
And they have provided me with 'much' wisdom!
I know now...
What is said 'endearingly' between them,
Is not for a man to repeat!
Even though they can say what they wish,
About us!
'Right, fellas'?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Give Me Mimmie
Give me Mimmie.
Her honesty I accept.
Give me Mimmie.
What she does,
It's done at her best!
She 'may' have a flaw.
Not too many I have seen.
She's my oldest 'and' younger sister.
And when she whips her dander up...
Watch out!
She can let off some steam.
A jewel, a star...
A bright light shining.
Never to complain,
She refrains from whining.
Wife, mother and devoted grandmother too.
She says she has retired!
But from what?
She's 'so' busy.
She's always finding something to do!
Give me Mimmie.
Her honesty I accept.
Give me Mimmie.
What she does,
It's done at her best!
She's funny when she says she is going to relax.
By preparing a meal for fifty or more people...
For some function at her church,
Where she is very active at!
She doesn't hesitate,
To express the wisdom that she has.
It's sharp and quite clear,
To whomever it is passed.
And she entertains with humor.
When she jokes,
You are going to laugh.
She's quite accomplished...
Undertaking several task!
Yes...
Give me Mimmie.
Her honesty I accept.
Give me Mimmie.
What she does,
It's done at her best!
Dedicated to:
My sister Andrea Doreen 'Mimmie' Pertillar Dixon
'Love you, young lady! '
Larry
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Queen of What Is Right
Yes!
She is my sister.
And Queen,
Of What Is Right.
No one,
Not even me...
Can argue with Mimmie D.
She is seldom wrong!
So prepare to take a hike.
She's quite talented and gifted.
And seems to never rest.
She makes things look too easy.
Even her children, Shayla and Landry...
Often find time with her protest.
But Mimmie is quite a special person!
And yes, I can say this...
It is true,
She knows what is best.
She knows how to dress with style and grace.
When she cooks a meal,
I've witness people stuff their faces.
Everything she touches,
Has a quality to it.
And she's the first on the scene,
When family, friends and those she loves get sick!
Did I tell you she was a nurse?
When she was just a child...
Healing the 'universe' she use to rehearse.
She tried to practice her skills on me!
But I had to remind her...
I was the one born first!
'Mahhhh...
Will you tell Mimmie to leave me alone.
She's trying to tell me what to say.
When I get on the telephone! '
Yes!
She is my sister.
And Queen,
Of What Is Right.
Yes, we had our arguments.
And yes we had our childish fights.
But on September 10th two thousand and nine,
My little sister will be sixty.
And it is hard to believe,
Without me...
She has done quite fine.
But sometimes I wonder about her husband AL.
After thirty six years of wedded bliss with sister Mim...
He seems to get better as he ages with her.
And not showing one sign,
He is out of his mind!
There has to be 'something' WRONG with THEM.
Two peas in the same pod.
The love they have for each other,
Today...
IS quite odd!
Yes!
She is my sister.
And Queen,
Of What Is Right.
And I love her dearly with all my heart!
Since Andrea and me,
Are both alike.
'Mahhhh...
will you tell LArry to leave me alone.
And mine his own business,
When I talk on the telephone! '
Dedicated to my sister,
Andrea 'Mimmie' Doreen Pertillar Dixon.
In celebration of her 60th birthday.
September 10th 2009.
'I love you, Mimmie.'
Larry
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Where's Daddy?
My mother and I were close.
And had a unique relationship.
People thought I was a mama's boy.
And I didn't mind.
Since both my mother and I,
Would laugh when we discussed this.
I remember talking before I could walk.
And when we were out together publicly,
She would say to me...
'Please Larry, do not say one word.
I don't want anyone staring at you.'
~You mean like daddy does? ~
'Exactly.'
And when I got older,
When my sister Mimmie was born...
I use to ask my mother,
~Why is she so quiet? ~
'Give her time.
She's only a few months old.'
And...
When she did get older,
And we'd all be out in public...
My mother not once told her,
To be quiet.
I tried.
But she never listened to me.
And my father?
He would just stare at us in disbelief.
~Ma?
Where's daddy? ~
'Who knows? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When She Played It Was On Her Piano
As a kid I had ambitions.
And the first of them was to do my chores,
Before my mother would come home from work.
And she would pack them on too!
'I told you to sweep this floor.'
I did!
'With what?
A sandwich?
Do it again.'
My sister, Mimmie, would look at me.
And smile!
I couldn't wait,
To give her the spray can...
To kill the roaches!
I didn't know we weren't suppose to have them,
Until I was eight years old!
And that's not a joke.
One day when my mother went to work,
I made sure Mimmie got introduced.
She's a grandmother now.
And every once in a while...
She will mention how mean I was to her.
Nobody is going to sit,
And enjoy me getting whipped!
And that has been my philosophy...
Learned very early in my life.
Those days are long gone.
And being assigned to responsibilites,
I believe every child needs.
However...
Too many parents have raised lazy and spoiled children.
Believing one day,
They will awaken and be accountable for their actions!
Today as I reflect on my childhood,
I am glad my mother did not allow me to go to sleep...
To chance an awakening to what I knew I should do.
What I had and was going to do got done,
Before I had an opportunity to give it thought.
Procrastination,
Was not a lesson my mother taught.
I've seen parents,
Do everything possible for their children.
To wonder at a later date in time,
Why their children disrespect them.
Even 'if' I looked as if I wanted to say something back,
My mother would put a 'switch' to my behind.
AND...
I would have to fine one she liked to use on me.
That was before the calling of 911.
Today...
They would call that child abuse.
When I grew up...
We got our 'butts' tore up.
Just for looking as 'if'...
We did not enjoy getting whippings!
And I aint hardly kidding.
How does that 'old' saying go?
~Spare the rod and spoil the child.~
Well...
Mimmie and I were very spoiled.
But...
A rocking of a boat,
Did not float at all...
With Ms Edna!
When she played,
It was on her piano!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Women
Women...
Some budy
Called flower...
Some budy
Called moon...
Some budy
Called Brandy...
Somebudy
Called hourse...
Some budy
Called donkey...
Some budy
Called basterd...
Some calling
Some of word's
Women with women's...
This words are
Not full fill
The women...
World wide
Women is beauty...
Women is sexy...
Thats thats...
But...
Women is what...?
Not only women
Women is your mother...
Women is your sister...
Women is your wife...
Women is doughter...
Women is your gran mother...
Women is your friend...
Not only above...
Women is a human...
Human is women...
Understand too
All women's...
With your heart...
At your humunity...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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I've Done the Best I Can So You Can Do That Better
Beneath the tree
That falling leaves descended from,
I stand.
Thinking of the changes,
I have experienced being the man I am.
'She is now called 'Mama'!
Ma! Or Ms Mimmie'.
When she's with her children...
And grandchildren too!
And I look up above me to witness the branches.
The twigs!
And the wonder of the tree...
All of this ascends from!
'Matriarch she is! ', I think with no doubt.
And the birds, squirrels and all that come to visit,
Are always welcomed
And I wonder if anyone wonders...
'How can anyone disbelieve there is a God? '
How can this be done?
And by whom?
We all can't be vacant with a disconnected fate!
'Something' is planned by the doing in all of this!
'Something' is in control and knows everything that sits...
Within and 'out' of our midst.
'Something' about this most people miss.
'How can anyone disbelieve there is a God? '
And we are God's experiment!
And my 'sisters' were born to nourish the flourishment.
And I can see...
Looking at 'this' tree before me I inspect.
And 'It' observes...knowing!
Encouraging those after birth and going...
After growing up,
With a gentle toughness that is meant.
'I've done the best I can so you can do that better.'
Dedicated:
To my sister Andrea. Mim, Mimmie and MimmieD
'You have 'eight' grandchildren? EIGHT? How, Mimmie? '
Where was I when all of this happened?
And Tammy and Lisa? ? Naw. No way, yo?
You can 'not' be in your 'fffffffffffffaaug. Getting 'more'
mature. Geeeessshhh. HOW do you all get so much older
than me? Overnight it seems.
LOL
Love you,
Larry
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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These Times Can't Last Forever
'These times can't last forever,
GOD! '
My mother, Edna, seem to always say,
To herself...
While putting a belt to my sister, Mimmie
And me...
As if she made to us promises,
We would 'never' forget.
And somehow GOD would agree.'
~Why is 'she' the one crying? ~
*Would you shut up.*
'And...
She was right.
Overnight,
Those times seemed to have moved on.'
'These times can't last forever! '
People are heard to say,
Those exact words today.
But not with the same conviction,
My mother had expressed.
However...
They too are right.
Like it or not,
These times are not here to stay.
Not the way they are.
And experience should teach...
For better or worse,
These times we live now...
Will from us leave!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Being A Mother
MOTHER! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
MOTHER IS A WORD
MOTHER IS A PERSON
MOTHER IS A WOMEN
BUT WAT IS REALLY A MOTHER?
MOTHER! ! ! ! ! !
MOTHER IS WOMEN WHO GIVES BIRTH
NO........
MOTHER IS A WOMEN WHO CARES OF HER BABY
MOTHER IS A WOMEN WHO IS WILLING TO GIVE HER LIFE FOR THEIR BABY'S
ANY WOMEN CAN HAVE A BABY
ANY WOMEN CAN GIVE BIRTH
ANY WOMEN CAN BE CALLED MOM
BUT ONLY A REAL WOMEN
ONLY A REAL MOTHER CAN TAKE OVER HER RESPOSABILITIES
ONLY A WOMEN CAN DO WHATS BEST FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER! ! ! ! ! ! !
A MOTHER LIKE ME
A MOTHER LIKE U
A MOTHER WHO CRIES FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER WHO PRAYS FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER WHO GIVES HER LIFE FOR THEIR CHILD
A MOTHER WHO STARVES TO FEED HER CHILD
A MOTHER WHO IS WILLING TO SLEEP IN THE COLD FOR THEIR CHILD,
A MOTHER WHO MAKES HER CHILDREN FEEL SAFE IN HER ARMS,
BEING THAT MOTHER! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
BEING THAT MOTHER TAKES ALOT OF WOMEN N A PERSON
BEING A MOTHER........
poem by Leticia Sanchez
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Rednecks unite!
My father is my brother
My sister, with three ears,
Is his significant other.
My sister is my mother
And somehow, also my brother
My father's father am I
The vile thought makes me shudder.
Grandma was a mule,
Grandfather's sperm, she used as fuel
A french aristrocrat,
Made love to my mother, for he prefered his women fat
A letter written for my eyes
Containing news of demine
Said my true mother was some other
And my father, not her brother.
Jubilant and joyous,
My wife is what used to by my sister.. Or brother?
poem by Thy Mother
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Women's League Day Care Center
My early lessons taught,
Were delivered...
At the Women's League Day Care Center,
In Hartford, Connecticut.
I had to have been all of two,
Or maybe 3 years old...
When I first began the beginning,
Of an aware consciousness.
I though my mother was giving me away!
And I was quick to show everyone,
Within listening distance...
I didn't like it at all!
I remember Mrs. Hines!
And the wrought iron encased stairsteps,
To the dismal West Avon Street joint.
Right off of Main Street.
A stone's throw...
From Bellevue Square.
A tenement project,
I loved and hated equally.
OH!
I forgot.
This is a poem.
Not a Declaration of Independence.
Well,
Anyway...
The Women's League Daycare Center,
Was extremely significant in my growth process.
I didn't realize it,
Until I was well into my 20's...
What a gift, my sister Mimmie and I, were given.
Gee...
That was back in either 1949 or '50!
And Mim and her husband AL,
Are GRANDPARENTS.
You know...
My mother 'always' told us,
God works in mysterious ways.
And to this day,
I'd like to know...
How my niece, Shayla
And my nephew, Landry...
My sisters Tammy and Lisa,
Get to be...
So much 'older' than me?
Do we 'not' share the same genes?
OH!
This could go on and on.
I feel it!
Dedicated:
To the Women's League Day Care Center,
a name I knew it as for 'many' years.
Located in Hartford, Connecticut.
'Probably the first day care center established,
in the country. Who knows? I'm a writer/poet...
not an historian.
Although, I'm beginning to feel like a dinosaur.
A youthful one, I might add.'
~lsp~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Outro
She, wont get off the phone, she wont leave me alone
When I'm talking to that guy
She, can be a real nightmare, gets me to do her hair
And says it never turns out right
But then I put on a face, she can tell
Cause she knows me so well
Chorus
Whos has been my closest friend, someone who will be there till the end
My sister, sister
Deeper than the deepest sea, no one loves you like a family
My sister, sister
She, reads my diary, she borrows clothes from me
And I never get them back again
And she (and she), locks the bath room door, says five minutes more
And now and then run still not in
And sometimes we fight, every family does (oh yeah)
But that cant change our love
Whos has been my closest friend, someone who will be there till the end
My sister, sister
Deeper than the deepest sea, no one loves you like a family
My sister, sister
To fell and break the good times, who helped me through the hard times
Who bring me down to roof, remind me whats in coming
And who comes first? Who comes first?
Gotta tell me who I'm talking 'bout
My sister, sister
(Oh yeah) and who comes first? Arent no doubt about it
My sister, sister
She, watches out for me, I know she'l always be
By my side (by my side)
Whos has been my closest friend, someone who will be there till the end
My sister, sister
Deeper than the deepest sea, no one loves you like a family
My sister, sister
Whos has been my closest friend, someone who will be there till the end
My sister, sister
Deeper than the deepest sea, no one loves you like a family
My sister, sister
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A women
Women is
Mother...
Women is
sister...
Women is
Gran maa...
women is
Friend....
Women is
Family...
Women is
Nation...
Women is
World....
Women is
Power of univers...
Univers Also
Power of women...
Women is not only
Women...
A women is
Homeable gods...
A women is
Loveable goodes...
With goodness...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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My sister dont
My sister please dont cry
My sister dry your eyes
My sister don't end your life
My sister your not his wife
My sister he's cold as a snake
My sister he's just a fake
My sister everything will be better when you wake
My sister Ive seen the pills you take
My sister he's full of lies
My sister don't even try
My sister your the one everyone likes
My sister don't start a fight
My sister it ends tonight
My sister I need you, don't end your life
poem by Jackrabbit Krjs
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Growing Up
I didn't know why I was really born
I had a sad childhood and was always torn
Didn't know my daddy, didn't really know my mother
It was just us three, with my sister and my brother
We stuck together and formed a bond
We were all we had and were very fond
We would defend each other all our life
There was pain and fear and plenty of strife
We were abused and neglected most of the time
Then, you could starve and beat your kids, not a crime
We were passed around to home after home
We never had much to call our own
We had a different daddy once a week
They made us full of fear and awful meek
Some were very nice and some were very mean
Some would beat us constantly, and some would only scream
We all grew up rough and we all knew it
And if they knew about this poem, they would have a fit
Mother couldn't help it, her mind was very weak
All her life she suffered, her life was so bleak
But we survived it all and grew up too
And mother she forgot, and didn't have a clue
I loved her so much, through thick and thin
The angels came and got her, that's why I can pen!
poem by Donna Nimmo
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Those Sugarcoating Days
The last time I had the opportunity,
To sugarcoat anything...
I was a child making candied apples.
From a family recipe,
My West Indian mother, Edna, taught me.
With a dipping of the apples in the mix.
To then let them sit,
In the icebox.
And my sister Mimmie and I,
Were left to get impatient.
During those days when the iceman came,
With blocks of ice.
And the milk and soda was delivered to our door.
Leaving those sugarcoating days,
Not to exist for me any more.
With a wish for them to return..
I do not do.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sister (feat. Faith Evans)
[Hook]
Sister You Don't Have To Cry
Everything Will Be Alright
My Sister You Don't Have To Weep
Cuz Things Are Getting Better
[Verse I]
A Mother Worries About The Son She Raised
Alone Cuz He Is Fighting With Danger And
It's Getting Close, But He Won't Listen
She Prays To God And Asks Him Would You Please
Protect Him But She Is Not Alone
[Verse II]
A Young Girl's Lying About The Weight She's
Gaining Because She Is Hiding A Baby
That Her Boyfriend Says He Didn't Father
He Said He Was In Love But Now He Can't
Be Bothered But Keep Your Head Up High
Little Sister
[Verse III]
Strugglin, Trying, Working Days And School At
Night The Bills Are Piling, Patience Low And
Pressures High And You Can't Take It. You Say
You'll Just Throw Up Your Hands But You Can Make
It. Somebody Understands.
[Bridge]
Strong And You're Beautiful
You Should See, You Should Know
Strong And You're Beautiful
Sister, Sister [Repeat]
Hook-------Out
song performed by by Kelly Price
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Orphan Girl
(gillian welch)
I am a orphan
On gods highway
But Ill share my troubles
If you go my way
I have no mother
No father no sister
No brother
I am an orphan girl
I have had friendships
Pure and golden
But the ties of kinship
I have not known them
I know no mother
No father no sister
No brother
I am an orphan girl
But when he calls me
I will be able
To meet my family
At gods table
Ill meet my mother
My father my sister
My brother
No more an orphan girl
Blessed savior
Make me willing
And walk beside me
Until Im with them
Be my mother
My father my sister
My brother
I am an orphan girl
Be my mother
My father my sister
My brother
I am an orphan girl
I am an orphan girl
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Arise O'Sister
Arise O’Sister
I am your mother
To care for you
Cry on your wounds
Protect you from the boys
When you think of me
Do you harm yourself
I am your father
To be strong for you
Won’t you stand up now
Protect you from the boys
When you think of me
Do you touch yourself
I am your brother
To touch you I will
Make you my whore now
Like Mom and Dad will
When you think of me
Remember the boys you meet
Sister, Sister
Is this how you hurt
Curled up in pain now
No protection from the boys
Sister, sister
Please let me hold you
Don’t push me away
Let me love you like Sappho
And protect you from the boys
Sweet mother, at the idle loom I lean
Weary with longing for the girl that still
Remains a dream of loveliness to fill
My soul, my life, at Aphrodite's will
What else should one posess than the Socratic art of love
For they seem to me to have practised love after their own fashion
She the love of women, he of men
For they said they loved many, and were captivated by all things beautiful
poem by Barbara Vanier
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Not In The Next Few Chapters
I remember how 'old' people seemed,
When they were in their twenties.
And I was then a child...
With a wish to be a teenager.
And I remember walking on my toes,
Wanting to be taller than I was.
Or at least keep up with my father,
Whenever he walked to the neighborhood store.
And I'd walk behind him,
Thinking he was a giant.
And when I then became thirteen,
And my sister Mimmie was still eleven...
I got very bossy.
We were both 'latchkey' kids and...
Well,
I was grown...
I thought.
And I made sure she did things around our apartment,
I just was too 'grown' to do.
Like sweep the floors while I looked at TV.
She hated me.
I didn't care.
I remember being eighteen and being called a 'rainbow',
As the rest of the enlisted boy/men stood at attention...
After arriving at Lackland Air Force Base,
In San Antonio, Texas.
We were called 'rainbow'
Because we were still in our 'civilian' clothes...
And instantly demeaned.
That was their way of making sure we understood,
We were in the military and mom and daddy weren't around.
We were guaranteed to be made full fledged men.
Thirty came in a hurry.
And I had already been divorced and remarried.
And that was in 1977.
I don't know 'why' I didn't like my 40's!
Maybe because they came and went too quickly.
And I was 'still' passing for the age of twenty-five.
That didn't last too long.
In 1987 I got a phone call from my mother,
Telling me my dad was ill and she was concerned.
So as the eldest and only son,
I thought I would leave San Antonio, Texas...
Where I made my home then,
And make a quick weekend trip back to Hartford, Connecticut.
Well...
One very long weekend later,
It is now close to 2011.
My 40's and 50's were a blur.
And today at 63...
With both my parents deceased,
I am just NOW able to say,
I can enjoy every moment of my life consciously.
And feeling a whole lot younger than I look.
I know this may sound crazy, but...
I've got to relive something that I've missed,
Between my 40's and 50's I can remember...
Other than my parents passing away,
And my getting a divorce.
That was number two.
And...
With God's blessing,
I 'hope' not to do a number three.
Not in the next 'few' chapters I hope to write!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Never Entrust A Confidence To Such A Callous Person
Why do people take delight in nurturing
all things negative, in propagating every
damning word that was said to them
in confidence?
It makes me wary of friends and family
even more wary of myself – am I like
this, if pressed in a family gathering,
will I also tell all how bad
Sister felt about mother’s rejection, how paranoid
mother supposedly was - I suppose I might, and
once again decide never to visit the family
to partake in general gossip
Your shock on hearing your sister and mother
attacked by a sister-in-law who wasn’t stopped
by your childhood hero – your elder brother -
showed how deep such attacks hurt
She blissfully dissected the sweetest memories
you treasure of your deceased family, but she
did NOT say a word about them, she only
revealed the contents of her mind
I shall never entrust a confidence to such
a callous person – you did not expect the
attack – next time you will be
forewarned…
poem by Margaret Alice
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