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  Ti Kendrick Randall
Multi-talented performing artist, Ti Kendrick Randall, is emerging as one of the East Coast's 'Grand Masters' of the page. Ti has been a fixture on the Spoken Word scene for more than a decade and has been tapped to host the poetry slam at the 1st Annual National Black Book Festival, in Houston, TX (May, 2008). She has been privileged to perform across the country and is currently touring with her newest release, psalms in L major.

Of her first collection of poetry ph balanced: poetry and haiku, Vision, of Philly Spoken Word duo QUIET RAGE, says "...Kendrick is careful not to waste a single word. The poetry stands up on the pages, and reaches out to you, drawing you near to whisper, sing, and shout in your mind. The reader feels her passion with every syllable as it is obvious that each poem is a branch from her heart, and her poetry in general is an extension of her soul on paper..."...
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Liberty Bell
by Blis
the long journey into morning
by tri n tran
Mud Castles
by Monique
Silencing the Orchids
by Pisces Halcyon
THE RUSE OF FIDEL CASTRO RUZ
by José Chavin Presser
Assassinated
by DUBBLE X
Decisions
by Greg Urbaitis
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The Annual Dream Horse Press Poetry Chapbook Prize
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Heart of a Poet ©
No Ordinary Chic

As far as I can remember writing was my first form of artistic expression. I was made to create and I love it. If I could not create I probably would shrivel up somewhere. Living inspires me to write, be it pain, joy or the everyday.
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May 9th, 2008
 
 
The Daily Haiku
Bright autumn dawn
The cry of a single crow
Echoes from the hillside.

- by Soji
The Daily Poem
The Tropics of New York
Bananas ripe and green, and ginger root
Cocoa in pods and alligator pears,
And tangerines and mangoes and grape fruit,
Fit for the highest prize at parish fairs,

Sat in the window, bringing memories
of fruit-trees laden by low-singing rills,
And dewy dawns, and mystical skies
In benediction over nun-like hills.

My eyes grow dim, and I could no more gaze;
A wave of longing through my body swept,
And, hungry for the old, familiar ways
I turned aside and bowed my head and wept.

- by Claude McKay
 
   
 
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