In the ancestral traditions of all peoples, the telling of tales is a custom in which values and beliefs are passed down from one generation to the next. To know one's ancient practices, is to be connected to the universe.

Druis A. Beasley is an artist/educator, poet/writer, percussionist, and vocalist who has performed her poetry and other works since 1971. She is the founder and artistic director of The Tellers of Tales Collective, and a founding member of the Sisters of Color Writing Collective and the New African Music Collective.

Her numerous independent artistic projects include original recitations entitled "Jazz, Jive & Jam" on the Harlem Renaissance; "Speak The Truth To The People," a retelling of the Nat Turner Rebellion, and most recently, "The Ancestors Thread," a collection of ancient voices from the African American experience. Ms. Beasley contributes poetry to Seeds, a biannual journal of the SOC Writing Collective, and The Little Magazine, and her essays have appeared in Multiview and The International Black Review.

Druis currently conducts literary and storytelling residencies, interdisciplinary teacher in-service, and African drumming workshops. In addition, she is an Arts-in-Residence with the New York Foundation for the Arts, the Silver Bay Writer's Voice Program, and Alternative Literary Programs.

Ms. Beasley received her BA degree from Hunter College in American History, and has done extensive graduate study in the fields of African American History and Culture, and African/American Literature at the University of Albany.
a blue moon 

waves of e/motions rising cresting 
folding in 
& cascading to sandy shores 
white salt foam sweeping over 
feet that are at once firmly rooted 
yet pulled away from the receding waters 
of the great cauldron m/other

in the lunar light 
shining in the night
the sand glistens 
with the gifts 
for those who can see

dancing on the surface 
the stars from above twinkle 
& shimmer against black velvet 
below in the depths the 
great cauldron m/other stirs 
silt & shifts sand 
a sonic ripple the serpent awakens

shining in the night 
in the lunar light 
the sea shore glistens 
with gifts for those 
who can be

mist suspends fog becomes
a blanket that clouds the eyes 
but does shield the ears from the 
crashing descent of a newly formed 
wave rolling its way towards the shore 
with feet standing on firm sand being 
washed away

lunar night
shining light
glistening gifts
sandy shore

for those who can see & be 
the sandy sea shore glistens with gifts 
hands begin to gather up fans 
of shell & smooth sparkling glass 
pebbles of be forming 
in the shining light 
of the lunar night