National Poetry Month’s Feature: Poet Kyoko Heshiimu
Poet’s Bio: Kyoko Heshiimu is a poet and visual artist. She has exhibited her artwork in several galleries in NYC. In
2019, 2020, 2021 and 2022 she received artist grants from SIArts and showcased
her artwork both in person and online. She considers herself an activist,
tackling subjects in both her artwork and poetry on topics associated with
women’s struggles and the challenges African Americans face from living in a
racially divisive society. She received her BFA from Pratt Institute where she
majored in painting and received her MSEd from The College of Staten Island –
certified in both childhood and early childhood education, after which she
taught at The Children’s Aid Society.
She has performed spoken word at various venues around NYC since
2007. Her poem, “Port-Au-Prince,” about the devastation from the earthquake in
2010, was published in Staten Island’s local magazine, The Shamboree in 2011.
In 2012, WBAI 95.5’s Midnight Ravers broadcast her poem, “The Color of
Suspicion,” about rape during war times.
In 2016, she self-published her first collection of poems, Sticks
and Stones. In 2017, she published her poetry collections – To Catch a Fish,
Catch and Release, and Fish Stew. She also published four
children’s books that same year – Ekky Pekky, Up on a Star, Mama
May I, and Because My Mommy Told Me So, I Know. She is a mother of
four and often incorporates her experiences as a mom and teacher into her work.
She has been a feature poet at Alor Cafe, Vox Pop, The Cup, St
George Day, Inspired Word at Hell Phone and Parkside Lounge, Duzers Local, HUB17’s
The Edgewater Reading Series and Black GirlsWrite, The artist and the pandemic: America unmasked, and most
recently for Words Wine and Wings, the Literary Cypher, Mash-poet-atoes, and
Poetry in the Park.
She is currently working on collecting poems that she has written
and read at venues around NYC since publishing her last book in 2017. She has
also created poetry broadsides for some of them and the finished product will
be displayed virtually in June 2023.
Deliah Lawrence: What inspired you to be a poet?
Kyoko Heshiimu: My dad was a reggae artist. He would write songs for
himself and other people all the time. Music lyrics read like poetry and I have
always been inspired by his writing.
I was very shy growing up – walked with my head down
and everything. Especially didn’t liked talking in public. I remember we had a
poetry class for a brief time in elementary school. I loved that poetry felt
similar to writing music lyrics. I was able to stay in my little area of my
room alone and just write lyrics and poems to express how I felt even though I
was too shy to speak it out loud.
DL: Is there any particular poet, author or book that
influenced you in any way either growing up or as an adult?
KH: Justin Chin’s poetry book
“Bite Hard,” influenced me as a writer because he wrote about subjects in a
very raw manner in which I thought I was not allowed to. It gave me courage to
write about subjects others might find taboo. Before then, I was weary about
being too graphic or talking about things that may be construed as political.
He was not afraid to talk about his sexuality in detail or about hardships he
endured in society, and I loved it.
DL: What tips would you give to aspiring poets?
KH: Just write! Write about
subjects that are important to you. Write about topics you feel passionate
about. Make connections between stuff you experience and stuff going on in the
world. How it impacts you. Your perspective is unique to you and so be open to
sharing how life has impacted you. Read other peoples’ work. You will learn so
much about writing structure and other ways of expressing yourself by learning
how others have tackled topics and then you can create your own voice. Keep
experiencing life so you have stuff to write about.
DL: What are three fun facts about yourself?
KH: I am obsessed with
skulls. I think they are so beautiful. Something about them makes me feel
peaceful and calm.
I am also a visual artist. I have created art even
longer than I have written poetry. I create work that deal with similar topics
in my poetry. Past work has focused on issues of police violence, homelessness
and endangered animals.
I worked as an early childhood lead teacher. I was
working at an insurance company for a decade just to pay bills, when I decided
to go back to school to get my Masters. I chose childhood education because I
enjoyed teaching my own daughter and felt that doing it as a job would be a
fulfilling career shift.
DL: In celebration of National Poetry Month, can you
share with us a few of your poems?
KH: Sure, here you go:
Tracing my
life
I am filled with exhaust
Fumes exerted without
deliberation
They are my trauma
And I am vying for clean unpolluted
air
So I can talk and write
about something “other”
Even so, I cannot escape
it
Some days, my trauma is
MOM
Accompanying my voice to
the “other” side of gloom
My mom told me
My sad entered the room
before me
Greeted her with loss hope
She, hiding her weak and
feeble frame
Under layers of forced
smiles
She is in pain
I can see it in her eyes
Her cancer
A drumbeat
Bum
Her heartbeat
Buh dum
Her voice
Buh
Buh
Buh
I can’t help but try to
hold onto memories
Of her in stronger light
But my own struggles do
not permit this to be so
Buh dum
My heart paces to the
rhythm of hers
If we can share a heart
To keep both of us alive
I would
Every memory I hold on to
The frame of her face
between fingertips
Boxing my mother in
snapshots
Like how she turned our
kitchen into a darkroom
When I was little
Blacking out windows and
cracks under doors
Red light
And a metronome
Tick, tick, tick, tick
My mother, comforted our
woes
With the sound of her food
Digesting
Our heads listening to her
Abdominal waves
As we laid
Comforted by her stomach
Soft upon her thin
structure
When asked pervasively
What do you want to be
I responded in swift
adoration
“My mom”
As if you can become
another
Let her being immerse your
soul
As an occupation
But I counter
“My mom is a job”
And no one can debate my
sentiments
I put my memories of her
on repeat
In my head so as not to
forget
How her voice
Echoes my own
So the details of my
childhood
Do not get tarnished
By the rust of amnesia
Her concern for me
Exacerbates her pain
Surging through her
I lay stress at her feet
The muscles in her heart
Fighting
Buh dum
Buh dum
Buh dum
The sound of maternal
percussions
Resonating through my
veins
Her DNA inherently
Cataloged in my ears
With yells, lullabies,
giggles, and advice
Patterns and shapes
scribbled on the map in my brain
“I wasn’t ready to let you
go..”
“You’re smart, but not too
smart”
“Kokabola”
She shares my breath in
her sighs
My excitement in her
smiles
Praises the bravery when
I’ve ventures grounds alone
Her first born
Her stomach sits in knots
of muscle and worry
There is always worry in
her eyes
And in her voice when she
speaks to me
Growing up has not made
this go away
Nor ease the tension in
her chest when we talk
“I’m pregnant..”
“I got my own
apartment…”
“I’m happy..”
“I fear..”
“I worry…”
My mother lives in my head
when I sort my thoughts
Rent free
And burdens me
With stacks of self doubt
and
Second thoughts she has
handed down to me
When I dare to trek
uncharted miles
She echoes in my head
Her illness slowing her
calls
Her pace filled with more
weight
Less risks
More praise to leave
behind for her children to remember
The Powers
That Could Be
by Kyoko Heshiimu
If I were a superhero,
I would hope to not be
gifted the power of strength
On surface value it sounds
wonderful
Crumbling walls to save
people from fires,
Lifting cars to save
someone caught under the bottom of its wheels
Lift criminals and pry
them away from victims,
Keep me safe
But the power of strength
would probably be a waste on me
When are you really going
to use it?
To fight? But I don’t
fight!
Never have
Hope to never will it into
power
So my power would be
wasted
On carrying loads of
laundry to the laundromat
Carrying groceries home
My inability to control my
anger
Will cause dents in the
floors
Where my temper spools out
onto the streets
Where my madness meets
slabs of linoleum when
I toss my anger from
chairs
So I do not have to carry
it
As I will my anger away
from my intended target
Strength stands tall on
face value
But would most likely make
me a weaker superhero
As I would be fearful to
test its limits
Hide behind the power to
hold back
Imagine me as a mom with
the power of strength?
I would stack bricks to
build forts to hide in
Snowballs the size of boats
Cast them miles to create
new icebergs
Shake hands that break
bones of my enemies
Mask it with kindness
And pry my grip open with
broken teeth
Fractured by the false
smiles created from holding my tongue
As I lay anger in my stare
My grin a machine
My fingers clasped like
pliers
When they are stuck
If strength was gifted to
me
I might be tempted to
taunt those
Who used their strength to
seize me
In the grasp of their
hands and plow into me
Use their strength to
total me to rubble in mind
As they robbed me of my
power
My physical
Would it carry my body if
I were strong?
Or would my muscles turn
my bones to jello?
Instead, give me the gift
of flight
So I can travel for free
Feel the weightlessness of
my body
Experience freedom
Grant me unrestricted air
space in a no fly zone
Let me live out my final
days
Like an un-caged bird
No obligation to anyone,
but me
Soaring oceans
So I can experience the
spices and sounds of the entire earth
Use the sky like a playground
to wade in
Dance so the clouds
surround my body like a washcloth
Moist with mist
Erasing my sins
I currently have four collections of poetry and four
children’s books available on amazon. I mostly use my Instagram: dragonmomi8
for my art, but I do post fliers on there with updates about feature readings
and shows I will be reading at.
DL: Thanks so much for being
here with us today. I know my readers will enjoy getting to know you and your
work.
KH: Thank you for this
opportunity!
Originally Published on https://vocalexpressions.blogspot.com
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