Abiodun Oyewole’s Open House with African-American Poets

For over forty years every Sunday I have been conducting an Open House in my apartment in Harlem. It started with me taking a number of young men and a few women to play basketball at Columbia University. Because I taught there I had access to the gym. I always brought more guests than allowed, but I would always manage to get everyone into the facility. After basketball we would come to my apartment and eat food I had prepared. One Sunday a young poet was so excited to meet me because he had a poem he wanted me to hear. I told the young man that at that moment I had no time to hear his poem. I told him we were getting ready to play poetry. I love basketball and I appreciate the poetry of the game. The young man played basketball with us and we had a lot of fun. When the games were over, I told him I was ready to hear his poem. He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket, but all that was on it was a blot of ink. The sweat from playing had erased his poem. He was crushed.

I felt bad and told him I was going take him to my place and give him paper and pen for him to rewrite his poem. He tried to remember what he had originally written and recapture what had been washed away by the perspiration. We spoke about his poem, fed him and he left satisfied. Every Sunday after that was basketball and poetry. Since I enjoy cooking I would always have food for my guests. The Sunday menu was always the same Salmon Croquettes, home fries, grits, scrambled eggs and fried apples. Word got around that I was having poetry sessions at my house on Sundays which I started calling Open House.

“Brother Earl” Majette (November 5, 2021*), Jamahl Crawford (October 29, 2021*), Rainmaker (October 22, 2021*) and Ngoma (October 15, 2021*) were poetic comrades I looked forward to hearing and seeing. Yolanda Sealey-Ruiz (October 8, 2021*), became a friend through her daughter. (I did a poetry performance at the private school she attended.) Over the years, I have been blessed to meet and work with many young poets. I admire them as much as they admire me. When the pandemic occurred my niece Juanita and my son Oba decided I should continue to have Open House Sundays, 5pm EDT, but virtually. For a year and a half my Open House has become international. I’ve got poets from London, South Africa, Brazil and Nigeria participating on Sunday. I listen to their work. We all talk about it and I always try to give constructive criticism. One advantage I have, now is, I don’t have to cook a lot of food.

Check out my face book that will connect you: https://www.facebook.com/abiodun.oyewole.39

Soul Remembers is a reminder of who we are and why we must not forsake the greatness of our existence. Mother nature has given us gifts that we have shared with the world — we should not forsake ourselves and disregard our blessings.

Soul Remembers

Soul Remembers
Your Soul Remembers
We Used to Love Each Other
We Looked Forward to Being
With Each Other
From Sunrise to Sunset
We’d Create Music
Make Up a New Dance
We Were in Rhythm
Mother Nature Would Adorn Us
with Fresh Air
Clean Water
Bright Sunshine
Lush Green
Flowers to Decorate
the Landscape of Our Existence
Making Love Was a Prayer
Having Children Was a Blessing
the Gods Gave Us Gifts
We Had to Share
What Some Would Call Magic
Was Natural to Us
All Life Was Precious
Happiness Embraced Our Hearts
We Smiled Most of the Time
Something Happened
We Stopped Listening to Our Souls
We Let Our Minds Take Over
Thoughts Were More Important
Feelings Were No Longer Felt
the Soul’s Voice Was Not Heard
We Fought Battles with Ourselves
Turned Our Backs on Each Other
Allowed a Beast to Highlight the Least
of Us
We Thought Less of the Best
Lived a World of Stress
Added More Milk in Our Coffee
Laced Our Blackness with Blond
Turned Satin Black into Shades of Gray
Exchanged Our Souls for Money
Made a Pig Our Pet
a Dog Our Friend
Our Soul Remembers
Who We Were
Who We Were Is Who We Are
Our Soul Is the Heart of God
the Mind and the Body Will Perish
the Soul Lives Forever
and It Remembers