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Bella Dapilma, Writer

Bella Dapilma (Bella Saturdayborn) is an artist, mentor, and avid learner with a passion for using art to motivate herself and others to be the very best versions of themselves possible. Her writing comes from a deeply rooted spiritual place and she writes about a wide array of topics including womanhood and faith. She has performed at The Apollo Theater, Harlem Stage, The Nuyorican Poets Cafe, and various college campuses including Drew University where she co-founded the Drew Poets Society. She also teaches dance, music, and poetry to students in the Bronx through the Dreamyard Project.

Most Memorable TAP Moment:

"The most memorable TAP moment for me was hosting the open mic at the Urban Word NYC salon. It was so great to see everyone share their talent, and I felt so much closer to the group by the end of the night."

Find out more about Bella here:


Should I lose my home

Maybe I can sleep

In the arms of a New York City poem

On these frigid lonely streets

Maybe she'll kiss me

On a rock at central park

Or fondle me gently

In front of a bodega

Tucked in a corner

The moon has yet to touch

Maybe she too will leave me

A lonely beggar telling stories

On the Bronx bound 6 train

About a daughter I don't have

Sick with a made-up disease

Anything for a penny

Maybe when I lose my home

And the poems are fleeting

I'll learn to warm my soul

Call myself home before conquest

Hold my body steady

And want myself deeply

"Soenyametor Gakpo"

My great grandmother

Was a voodoo priestess

And a devout catholic

She swallowed a cowry shell

And birthed by grandmother

A hard woman with a wide dark hole

For a mouth

From which

My grandmother

Coughed out my father

During the dry season

His body cemented with red dust

Rolled in cocoa powder

Took my mother

As an offering

She birthed me

A sacrifice

Truth is

Your favorite toy

Dancing for you everyday

The satiny dress on your ballroom princess

Swaying to the sound of piano keys

Stinging the room with rhythmic severity

Like an airy dragonfly

Captivated by the earnestness of the wind

You believe it is a never ending magic

Perhaps a gift from your father

On a Christmas eve

Then it stops so suddenly

You know you have been betrayed

By the batteries and imperfections

Hidden beneath the porcelain glow

And over the imminent months

As the head falls off

And the arms break in two

You lose a little faith

In the magic of it all

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