#TonyaIngram

[mpmcorner]

How Did Tonya Ingram Die? Know Everything About Her Cause Of Death, Obituary and More

On January 3, 2023, the world lost a beloved poet. Tonya Ingram is an advocate for mental health and a lupus legend who has given so much to the poetry community. Her life was full of achievements and her loss is deeply felt by all who knew her.. Continue reading this article to get more information about her.

Who is Tonya Ingram?

Tonya Ingram was born in Cincinnati and raised in the Bronx, New York. He earned a bachelor's degree from New York University and a master's degree in general practice from Otis College of Art and Design. As an advocate for mental health, she uses her powerful words to bring awareness to this important issue. Tonya's life was full of achievements that made her stand out among other poets of her time. He won the 2011 New York Knicks Poetry Slam Championship, was a member and co-founder of NYU's Poetry Slam Team, as well as part of the 2011 Urban Word-NYC Team, the 2013 New Yorkan Grand Slam Team, and the 2015 Da Poetry Lounge Slam Team. As if these weren't enough accomplishments for a lifetime—Tonya is a six-time Poetry Slam finalist, a 2014 Pushcart Prize nominee, and the author of Growl and Snare. An avid fan of Tom Hardy movies and The Office TV show, Tonya had a passion for animals.

How did Tonya Ingram die? What caused Tonya's death?

Tonya Ingram's death has shocked everyone who knew her. Despite Tonya's long battle with Lupus, the cause of her death has yet to be determined. What we do know is that there are several online reports confirming that he contracted the disease and was pronounced dead earlier this week. As of now, the family has not released a definitive statement on the matter and the cause of her untimely death is unknown. In addition to being an incredible artist, Tonya was also awaiting a kidney transplant, which sadly led to her sudden and unexpected passing on January 3, 2023. Tonya Ingram Obituary Tonya Ingram will be remembered as a true pioneer in the poetry community – someone who used her words to make a positive difference in the world around them, while inspiring others through artistry and activism. We can honor Tonya's legacy. By way of example. Tributes to Tonya Ingram lenduh _Duh Tonya Ingram and Gangstaboo :(((( Rest in power 🥺 I got to see Tonya Ingram perform her poetry a few times at DPL and she lit up the room every time. She was lost. Rest in peace Tonya pic.twitter.com/qYZLJr820n — Erika R (@ErikaRiosT) January 3, 2023 So sad to hear of the passing of Tonya Ingram, a poet who exuded such light and generosity, and was one of the first writers to show me that poetry was something I could do. I have distinct memories of watching her sing poetry when I was 14 years old. Rest in peace, Tonya Her loss leaves us all with broken hearts, but also fond memories that will live forever in the hearts of all who knew her or were inspired by her work. We love you Tonya! Peace be upon you! Read the full article

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[tsthws]

You want her fawn-like

A glass jaw with four branches leading to fingers as frail as leaves

One finger on reserve for you, she’s a blank slate waiting to be worthy of your color

In her left hand she cradles your ego, and nothing brings you more amusement than watching her arm shake from the impossible weight

You want her exotic but tame, bland enough to please your mother but not so stale you get bored of her

You fall for her full moon hips but when she opens her mouth and stars fall out, it’s all too loud and astounding for you

But that day will arrive like sun flooding into a kitchen

The day she realizes loving you is being an open door, always watching you leave, but loving herself is being the entire house

It’s being her own home

In both hands she carries wildflowers and chapbooks

One night, while driving back from a party, you called her cigarette fiction

but she is an anthology

made up of cosmos and slow-brew Sundays, steeped in incense and cinnamon

One finger raised to you, she stands solid gold

Arms soft, belly full

Armored with laughter and pleasure she never feigns for a man

She loves from her fullness, not from her inadequacy

She is still becoming

She is an untold story, not the amalgamation of every headline listing a missing or battered woman

but a mantra that shouts,

bless the women who overcome

bless the women who find home within themselves

bless the women who don’t skip meals and have stopped letting their body be a number

bless the women who open the windows and buy their own flowers

the women who don’t hold their breath

the women who are learning the word “freedom” and reserving the word “sorry” for when it is actually needed.

bless the women who are choosing to bloom outside of the boxes they were buried in

-inspired by Tonya Ingram

#tonyaingram

[emvrimone]

13, or, How OkCupid Told My Mother I Had the Devil Living Inside of Me

The first said,

you must be a man as much as you want it then offered a glass of water which is to say, have I not baptized you enough?

The second

will know nothing of your face but of how low your head can bow how open your mouth can crucify

The third

is Lazarus speaks only of what he can see there is no God in that

The fourth

an accent eyes the shade of Eden need I remind you how that chapter ends?

The fifth

a blonde-haired whiskey hands like goliath will toss you because he does not believe in your Christ, but you are still pretty for a black girl

The sixth

a dancer will know he is the age of Jesus. At the cross. But will still. Make a resurrection. Out of you

The seventh

Will kiss you. Only after. He's allowed his Righteous. Work to rest. On your face. And your chest

The eighth

Is the driest valley. Of lonely. Your bones has ever. Laid with

The ninth

A Lower-east side. Bar shot. The reason. You do not call home. What has no welcome mat

The tenth

Will ask if you are clean

The eleventh

Will try to unlearn your scripture. Leg by leg. Lip by lip

The twelfth

Is a rooftop. In Brooklyn. Is a bypassing thunderstorm. In Brooklyn. Is a hand-job in Brooklyn

The thirteenth

Is a rusty fence boy. Is a trap door. Is the one who will tell you. You do not love yourself. it is a lust fist. It is the daughter of Delilah you are. And have always been

13 is the number of men

you've allowed to wound your human

with their horns

It is fornication disguised as forgiveness

which means you swallowed 13 men in two months

when you mistook night for lonely

but it is all blasphemy

it is all reason to forget

your mother gave birth to you under sun and sin

so your throat is just a canal

just an ark

your skin so night

so animal

it is a lust fist

it is the daughter of Delilah you are

and have always been

13 is one more disciple

you've allowed to holy bible spread you

none of them black

they will want to read you

and convince their bodies

it walks on water

but it is all blasphemy

It is one more who has ransacked

your gospel before reading it

Making you another

this is the first time

I've slept with a black girl

miracle.

#e #tonyaingram

[nenethestar]

Haven’t made it yet... #strugglebus #itsreal #quites #tonyaingram #real #beauty #madeit #tired #notmyself #gottapushthrough

#gottapushthrough #real #itsreal #tired #madeit #beauty #notmyself #strugglebus #quites #tonyaingram

[im-nora-ephron-bitch]

40. Despite the condition of the soil, I will choose to bloom. #poetry #tonyaingram #spring #40days #easter

#40days #easter #tonyaingram #spring #poetry

[purposerosa-blog]

Do you boo boo do you! #tonyaingram #purpose Full video on www.purposerosa.com/purpose

#purpose #tonyaingram