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Ken Clepper
Bio
Versatile wordsmith and history buff: poet, author, essayist, and enthusiast of the past."
Stories (16/0)
Renewed Promise
"When my best friend got married, he walked down the aisle to a song about death - a poignant reminder that marriage is a promise to stand together until the end. I, too, have come to realize that my wedding vows were too focused on the joy and laughter, neglecting the complexities of life. I wish I had said: 'I take you, with all the uncertainties and challenges that come with being alive. I promise to stand by you as we navigate the trials of family history, health issues, and the mundane routines of life. I vow to support you through the darkest moments, just as we celebrate the brightest ones.'
By Ken Clepper 22 days ago in Poets
The Beauty Of Age
"It's a shame to live in a kingdom where our generation fears aging. We're led to believe that every wrinkle is a beauty mark lost, so we're discouraged from embracing our natural appearance. It's alarming to see young girls seeking potions and creams to alter their features, spending more than they can afford to chase an unattainable standard of beauty. The emotional toll of this pursuit is ignored, and those who speak out against it are silenced.
By Ken Clepper 22 days ago in Poets
Hopeful Horizon
"Even in the midst of urban adversity, the sweet melody of birds chirping can be heard. Barred windows may confine us, but they cannot constrain our dreams. Children from the hood have aspirations too, and our dreams have the power to flourish like a resilient seed sprouting through the cracks of concrete. Despite the hardships, we've witnessed the impact of drugs and violence, but we've also seen the triumph of those who've overcome and returned to share their stories, inspiring us to dream big. We know that beyond the sounds of gunfire and the limitations of our neighborhood, there's a world full of possibilities. Our dreams reside in our thoughts, words, music, and fashion. Though others may only see our struggles, we know that our dreams are valid, and they propel us forward. Circumstances may try to dampen our spirits, but they can also nourish our aspirations, reminding us that we have the potential to reach for the stars and make our dreams a reality."
By Ken Clepper 22 days ago in Poets
I Previously Clung To A Grievance
"I once clung to a grudge for so long, I forgot the original dispute. I allowed anger to construct a vast metropolis in my mind, and I served as its mayor for far too many years. The streets were paved with bitterness, the buildings towered with resentment, and the air was thick with hostility. But, as time passed, I began to realize that this city was not only exhausting to maintain but also toxic to inhabit. The constant noise of anger, the pollution of hatred, and the isolation of resentment took a toll on my well-being. However, I've come to understand that nurturing such resentment is not worth the burden it carries. Forgiveness may be elusive, but it's the only place I desire to call home. It's a peaceful haven, where understanding and empathy reside, and the cost of living is significantly lower. The air is fresh, the skies are clear, and the community is supportive. Thank you for guiding me towards this realization, for helping me evacuate the city of anger and relocate to the town of forgiveness. I'm grateful for the journey, and I'm at peace in my new home."
By Ken Clepper 22 days ago in Poets
The Pursuit Of Delight
"I sketch a simple stick figure, and it bears a passing resemblance to a spider - and that's perfectly okay. I strum my daughter's ukulele, and the strings seem to protest, wondering what they've done to deserve such treatment. My rendition of Whitney Houston's classics is... creative, to say the least, as I butcher the lyrics with gleeful abandon. But I'm not embarrassed; I'm embracing the art of imperfection, the beauty of failure, and the liberation of forgiveness. I'm learning that embarrassment only holds power if I allow it to. Thank you for this freedom, which allows me to explore my creativity without fear of judgment, to laugh at my mistakes, and to find joy in the process, not just the product. I'm discovering that it's okay to be a beginner, to make mistakes, and to learn from them. And in doing so, I'm finding a sense of peace and self-acceptance that I never thought possible."
By Ken Clepper 22 days ago in Poets
Greater The Expectation
"Black women are often treated like children who are expected to be seen but not heard. It's ironic that they're silenced, yet criticized for not speaking up sooner. When we finally find the courage to share our pain, they question its validity and ask why we put ourselves in harm's way. They dismiss our trauma, telling us to 'get over it' and 'move on' without acknowledging the triggers that still haunt us.
By Ken Clepper 22 days ago in Poets
Mindfulness
"Before me lies a new path, with love, family, and lessons learned from failures. For the first time, I'm at peace, eagerly anticipating each new day. I rise with purpose, cherishing time with my children. Shame, once a constant companion, now feels foreign. Though I have less than before, my heart beats with a newfound understanding.
By Ken Clepper 22 days ago in Poets
The Rifle
"The gun initially thought the first shot was a bursting pipe, but soon realized the horrifying truth as more shots rang out. The teacher yelled for everyone to get down, tried to lock the door, but was fatally shot. The gun, in shock, texted its parents, apologizing for any trouble it may have caused, expressing love and gratitude. Trapped in the classroom, the gun was ushered into a closet with other frightened guns, anxiously awaiting news from friends. One response came, but another never did. After an agonizing hour, the door was kicked open, and the gun feared the worst. But it was rescued, emerging into a sea of cameras, and was finally reunited with its sobbing mother, embracing her tightly. The gun heard the usual phrases - 'thoughts and prayers', 'Second Amendment', 'Lone Wolf' - but still awaited a response from its friend, a response that never came."
By Ken Clepper 22 days ago in Poets
Opie Arise
"On Mars, amidst a raging dust storm, the Opportunity Rover's final transmissions echoed: 'My battery is low, and it's getting dark.' Though mere readings, they conveyed a poignant farewell. For the first time, her solar panels were shrouded in stellar debris, her small frame overwhelmed by the vast, dusty landscape. Her NASA engineers affectionately called her 'Opie,' this intrepid robot, designed to last only six months, yet thriving for 15 years, uncovering secrets of water and serenading herself with 'Happy Birthday.' Like a sparrow lost over the ocean, she was a tiny, metal pioneer, shipwrecked on a barren red island, fueled by hope and curiosity.
By Ken Clepper 23 days ago in Poets
Unpolished Greatness
"Stop gazing into the mirror, seeking validation from others' opinions. Stop worrying about what everyone else sees - your crooked teeth and off-beat smile are perfect just the way they are. Perfection is merely a perception, a screen of insecurity projecting false ideals. Children play pretend, adults play pretentious. I'd rather you show me your authentic self, flaws and all, than present a deceiving facade.
By Ken Clepper 23 days ago in Poets
Conditioned Reflex
"I've twisted myself into knots to minimize my presence, curling up like a question mark to occupy as little space as possible. It's a delicate balance between self-effacement and invisibility. I've learned to avoid attention, to erase myself, because existing meant being in the way. I've mastered the art of silence, like a mime with helium in my heels and a mute voice box, to remain unheard. Because being heard meant chaos, and existing meant judgment.
By Ken Clepper 23 days ago in Poets
If Language Is The Map That Charts Our Course
What is commonly referred to as 'broken English' or 'Creole' is, in fact, a non-standard, non-traditional form of English. I learned this in a class focused on the African American legacy, led by Ms. Fields, a white woman and head of the African American Studies department. During a class discussion on language, oral tradition, and continuity, she spoke to me about AAVE (African American Vernacular English) and Ebonics. As she spoke, I couldn't help but think about how our people were forced to assimilate, swallowing a continent that refused to blend with the enslaved syllables and silent letters that exist as scars across white textbooks. Those same textbooks claim that Creole is a borrowed language, as if this mixed and matched speech was only ever theirs to reclaim. As my professor informed us that speaking a language is a story of survival, I wanted to ask her...
By Ken Clepper 23 days ago in Poets