Consummated Arrogance

The anguish of pride is a virginal bride

Willingly walking over  the threshold

Of disaster…

Refusing to be carried through to modesty

For she will have no master


She deserts the purity of humility

Leaving it slain as a permanent stain

Wrapped in defiled marriage bed sheets of deceit

Though the proof is now there

The anguish of pride keeps her blind… unaware


Will she ever learn that her mate will forever yearn

For the pleasure of a true coexistence – with much persistence

Daily longing to kiss her lips and fingertips

While in a strong embrace

Graciously savoring her would be sweet and humble  taste


If only she knew that as the morning dew

Falls and eventually evaporates

So would the anguish of pride

Gently drop…then gradually





The Tempest

The mind knoweth not

Where the heart doth go

As a lovesick breeze of eagerness

Carries it to and fro


Having no knowledge of where or why

That former blissful wind came

The mind is not at fault

Only life is to blame


For this tumultuous storm rising

Leaving sheer destruction in its path

And a desperate longing for peace

To replace that which razed from wrath


Whilst shards of glass crumble

Under thy very feet

Thou too dost tread

Upon reconstructable debris


Forgiveness is an everlasting mortar

Well mending fragments of a broken heart

The mind now knoweth whence it came

And surely now, where to start



In the Heart of…


It resides in meaningful places, but

Empty facades of what could have been –

Yet cannot be are strained from

The solidity of


Preferring the brilliant glow of

Honesty, but facing


From the other side of the

Facts of


Wandering aimlessly…searching for


In one’s own

Reality – suddenly

A loud shout from the


Brings fruition




They walk in silence

And they run in fear

But they can only be heard

When we are willing to hear


On a typical day’s quiet stroll

Comes the caress of  gentle winds

When suddenly, they are there

As we take our surroundings in


While lying awake at night

Be it hot, pleasant, or icy cold

They slip in through small unsecured spaces

Bringing with them good, bad, new, and old


We can use them as we please

To create, enjoy, and build

Yet, we can also completely destroy them

Leaving them for dead in an open field


To forget, to remember, to cherish

To keep, or to throw away

Thoughts and memories continuously creep

On every given day









The Wayfarers Foundation – A Hopeful Amendment

I came up with this title around a week or more before I was actually able to get my thoughts together for it today. It was inspired by one of Kellie Elmore’s Free Write Friday prompts, also ckisler’s Braking Points blog – post – Homelessness in Galilee and USA Luke 8:26-39.

In Memphis, the homeless situation is profound, but it seems to be ignored which really bothers me in a big way.

While my father was in the VA working very hard to recover from his first stroke. Several years later with the second stroke, he wound up in the same facility, but things were worse than the first time. I was faced with riding to and fro (with my husband, mom, and very young daughter) for visits that hurt my heart.

What hurt even more was knowing that I had survived these visits only to be more hurt by the man at the corner of the intersection, accompanied by a sign that read, ‘Help me, I am a veteran.’

Every day on the way and back from visits with my dad, I would see this man in the same spot with the same sign and wearing the same coat. Unshaven, hot, and uncomfortable in the worst way, and apparently unrecognized as important, because traffic – as if in a recurring dream, constantly passed by with no stops for me to witness or take part in any sort of grand attempt to take this man from where he was to where he needed to be.

Somehow I knew he was surviving somehow, but my mind could not fathom this possibility in a realistic way because – he was still there…every day, just as my father was in that hospital bed…every day with hopes of coming home to put finishing touches on his recovery which did  happen with the first stroke, not so much with the second, but a recovery non-the-less.

The fact is that my dad had somewhere to go, which was the house that he had and was still dearly paying for. But the veteran on the corner who had also served his country was left outside to abide the elements, traffic, and who knows what else for twenty-four hours a day – each day of his life.

Is he still there today, or has he gone on to a place where he need not worry about an ideal place for him to live in? I know not as this man and his unfortunate lifestyle is considered a negatively superfluous extension of our city and it was several years ago when I was visiting my ailing father in the VA.

What struck me more than the question of why I never saw anyone stop (including myself although I thought about it with no real helpful scenario to follow up with) was why the man couldn’t simply walk that one block to the VA for help. We eventually passed the veteran by one last time on the day we brought my father home, and I was overwhelmed with an undying sense of chagrin. With reluctant acceptance, I knew that while that building stood where and as it was, it – just as well as I had miserably failed that man.

Despite understanding that the VA was a hospital and not a shelter, I still viewed the homeless hero’s sidewalk station as an undeniable display of the actual ‘aide’ that any given veteran may receive following his/her signed and sealed service.

Years later, this man is still on my mind.


Several years later…


My family (husband and now 3 kids) and I were on our way home from church (which I no longer attend now but also question on the same level as organized facilities such as the VA etc.) and we saw a family of about seven crossing the street at the old end of Bellevue Blvd which becomes Elvis Presley Blvd once you pass the intersection.

The mom, dad, and about five small children were making their way across this very busy area…the mother making sure her children held hands tightly while in step with each other as they carefully made their trek from one side of the street to the other. Holding a smaller child’s hand and carrying a bag of snacks in the other with the smallest child on her hip, I could plainly see caution and fear on their faces. The father, protector, and head of his unfortunate family walked in front, playing the role of shield. His defensive attitude was obvious as he valiantly led his family from point A to B, and they made it. I had no idea where they were going, but I did know that the small bag of snacks they had just purchased with what little they had would not be enough to fill either of their bellies.

I saw them again last week in the same area, but this time they were washing cars in the lot of a restaurant that has been closed down for some 3-5 odd years, but the father looked as if he were on a cell phone (probably borrowing from the client), hopefully talking to a new customer. Maybe he was speaking to someone about finding somewhere to live, but his body language showed that the conversation was not going well. I saw nothing but desperation, frustration, and hopelessness.

No one asks for this.

That family has been on my mind since the first day that I saw them crossing the street that day. Seeing them as well as the homeless veteran and so many others that we pass by every day reminded me of  a dream (a hope for the future) that my mother and I had in common. Today, this hope has become quite urgent in my thoughts since her passing. She often talked about starting some type of self-organized foundation for feeding/helping the homeless as she was an excellent cook and all of her daughters would use what we learned from her to make her dream come true.  Although my parents participated in several charitable organizations that were big on feeding and helping homeless people, she still had the urge to do something on a personal level, but her dream was unfortunately not lived out as she succumbed to an inherited family history of silent killers.

This dream that my mother had still lives with me today and I am determined to act on it.  Although I am limited in what I really want to do later, I still give when I can, haphazardly and random as it may be. For now, I will simply have to settle for what works in the now. But if by some miracle, sudden stroke of luck, perseverance, or whatever it is that will make it happen, I know what I want to do with my life. If I am able to make another life better, my living will not have been in vain.

In the meantime, I come from the heart (as usual) with this poem called:

The Wayfarers Foundation

Many scores lasting forever and many years to date

We the ‘eyesore’ have been forced to patiently suffer and wait

For some action to be taken…shall more of you awaken

To the fact that our living quarters called ‘homes’ have been taken

In the midst of a dwindling and eroding economy

Do we seriously need to question the severe lack of money

Despite being a member of the land of the free and home of the brave

It should matter not my choice of which service I gave

The potential to lose my comfort or ability – namely my very life

Yet my bedroom is a cardboard box regardless of the weather every night

What about those of us who were simply dealt a bad hand

Booted from common livelihoods, now unable to lease a piece of land

Higher authorities casually ignore us

While inaction and self-piety beget more of us

Is there no law written

For the ones who have been smitten

By the force of abiding at the lowest grade

Possessing the need to find elms for mere shade

Are we not deserving of hand-built roofs also

Shall it be called justice as we travel to and fro

On pavement and gravel alike, even dirt roads to nowhere

Our destinations far beyond us just as our very welfare

As we the wayfarers are deemed non-contributers of supply and demand

Our miniscule supply is depleted while the latter still stands

It is unfortunate that holiday charities do not very long last

In order to satiate our hunger and lack once that time has passed

We set up quarters of blankets,various leftovers and if lucky – tents

In places that are public –  where privacy is not meant

To be obtained in weather such as heat, snow and rain

Our candles go out just as we do much the same

But we the ‘eyesore’ come strongly together as one

As a whole people working endlessly to get something done

For the betterment of The States which is sadly and sorely due

If nothing changes, this could happen even to the most wealthy of you

As a union we stand yet divided according to place

We ask to be rationed daily resources with which to wipe dirt from our children’s face

In order to be presentable as we stand before the great panels of our nation

To plead our God-given rights in the name of The Wayfarers Foundation!

The Roof…

Several days have gone by and I have not been able to think of anything to write. I have looked at some prompts that held my interest, but I can’t seem to get my thoughts together on any of them right now. I don’t know why this happens to me so often and it is very disturbing to me that at times my mind is full of words and rhymes that seem to flow effortlessly while writing posts and at other times there is absolutely nothing. I can deal with going a day or two but when this ‘thing’ lasts for a week or more it really bothers me, so I decided to just start pecking on the keyboard to write about my thoughts on this issue of mine and maybe something decent will be borne from it.

As I am typing now I have absolutely no idea if I will end up with a poem or just a regular post, but today has been a bit foggy with everything that I tried to do around the house such as putting a chicken in the oven and completely forgetting about it. The fact that my sense of smell is not so keen does not help much when my short-term memory is compromised along with my foggy overall thinking on days like these. It was the kids who informed me that I needed to check dinner because it had ‘been in there too long’ just before my husband came in from work exclaiming the same and of course, I smoothed things over by explaining to my hungry family that the chicken did not burn in the oven, but that it was just a little too brown. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. I am glad to say that these incidents do not occur often, it’s just a tad too frequent for me as I piddle around – not disgusted or depressed but rather…slightly disenchanted. Needless to say, I will be very thankful when whatever it is has run its course and finally ends.

Despite my current temporary funk, the kids are still running around playing and joshing ever so loudly so all is still well other than the fact that my brain keeps drawing a big fat blank – the noise…I love and hate it all at the same time.

Meanwhile, here goes something…hopefully it will not turn out to be nothing.

For the record, my six-year-old just came in to tell me that he really enjoyed my wonderfully burnt chicken and that I am the best cook in the world. This either means that we really need to get out more, or the boy has an unnatural relationship with food that needs to be addressed immediately…maybe a little of both, but here goes:

My renewable solitude

Where I can be nice or even rude

Feelings stay in my pocket until I make them known

Yet they all understand when my symptoms are full-blown

Nights are too short but the days are long

I am constantly covered whether I’m right or wrong

I can think and say whatever I feel

I can perfectly cook or even burn a meal

Despite it all, I live with true love

Settled in this place like a hand in glove

My commitment here is worth more than gold

My intent is to stay put until at last I am old

No matter how rough or ragged the road

I shall make the best of my cozy, humble abode

Tranquil fantasies often blend in with my nightmares

Sleep deprived but well rested because someone cares

Good days and not – all are cherished the same

Mama and Wife are my first and last names

Though not necessarily do they come in that order

They maintain their presence when I reach that dreaded border

Of the last of my sanity – when at my wit’s end

Feeling abandoned – lacking family or friend

My quick fix is in the eyes of three loving brown pairs

I realize again why my life was spared

To see their smiles and be disturbed by happy noise

My reason for living is one girl and two boys

They love unconditionally when I can’t and when I can

I must give props to their dad – a hard-working man

Many a struggle has invaded and burst through our front door

But love and faith taught us what togetherness is for

I learn as I go while using what I was taught

I refuse to have had my folks go through all that trouble for naught

In spite of my imaginings, I embrace my today

Never trading out my years to live in  another way

This group never fails to succeed when my mind is aloof

In giving me in hopes of what’s in store for us under the same roof


The Mind’s Life

For once the day is good

Finding a smile as I should

On my own face as opposed to yours

My life does not compete, nor does it take scores

It just lives

And grows as is

To be that; that it will be

So I’ll just wait and see

While currently relaxing with a hot cup of green tea…

That so happens to be…

In a green mug

By some miracle, I managed to miss all slugs

Not that I was the target

They rang out as I on my way to the market

To re-stock on fresh veggies from the store around the corner

I stopped to ration out change to the mourners

Of a good life lost, some simply strung out

But their specifics is not something I need to know about

Because it’s not my business after all

Of what took place prior to the fall

Of the have-nots or their unfortunate history

But for the grace of God – it could have been me

Who am I to say

That I would never turn out that way

Shit happens…

That’s why I’m tappin’…

Typin’ instead of rappin’…

Reading aloud…to whoever hath an ear

Let him hear

Life has two gears

Courage and fear

It all depends

On which end

You choose to move the shift

It’s your choice whether you opt for a sink or a lift

En route to ‘Don’t Know’ but I know where I am

Stopping to visit real folks from the fam

Sorry, gotta pass by those who ain’t

Real I mean – won’t deal with you – I just cain’t

Oh yeah, that word is commonly used

When you’re from the south where language is subconsciously abused

But honestly, it is our native tongue

Derived from ancestors from everywhere – not just mom

From Africa to India and America too

I may be a mutt, but technically so are you

Can you really go back and find them all in one place

Thought so; yet not many of us check the ‘Other’ box when identifying our race

Somehow we’ve been groomed

To not leave much room

For what we actually know

Like puppets we only acknowledge what shows

Society’s design

Boggles the mind

Before it is placed

In a spot

Called the proverbial box

Where you will follow suit until the very end

But as a rule, you don’t have to stay in

Your mind is a priceless tool for what you aspire to be

Regardless of origin, crime, or design – screw the set-up;  freedom is for free!



Ocean (Photo credit: ouistitis)

Strange it seems, but could it be

Easier to be someone else instead of just being me

Becoming you when with me I am not pleased

Oblivious to winds that roar o’er the waves of stirring seas

Sand between my toes

As I ponder not on recent woes

Walking along to pick up shells

While conjuring memories of my former selves

Who made their homes on decorated shelves

Aloof from imagined waves crying when all is not well 

To be out of the elements is to find a perfect spot

Far away from who I used to be but now am not

Dwelling on my befores that fulfill no more

Still I beckon their return when my now waxes sore

I must move on for the days are not long

In a world where wrong is right and right is therefore wrong

But truly do these two only in our minds exist

Or could it be our minds that choose these two to twist

Nevertheless we press on in search of that higher ground

Blocked by an eon’s horizon ’til eternity’s  sun goes down

Now lives faithfully as does before

I shall abide in them until time causes them to live no more

I at that time will with me and myself become one

Just as I Am when forever is come


The past month has really been a blast

The past month has really been a blast for me. The National Poetry Writing Month challenge really did help to get my creative juices flowing while also tearing down that wall of writer’s block that stopped me in my tracks so long ago that I’m almost ashamed to admit it. Now, I have learned the art of commitment as well as how to be so determined that no matter how difficult your task may become down the line to refuse to give in or give up. I just so happened to beat the clock by exactly fifteen minutes before May 1st rolled in, so needless to say, it was a big load off after that.

I have also become totally hooked on the WP Reader. Going through all the awesome blogs that I have come to follow during NaPoWriMo has become my morning ritual as I chug my usual breakfast of way too many cups of coffee accompanied by even more glasses of ice water. I truly hope that you all know how much you have inspired me along with making me feel more ‘at home’ here on

I really do have a better understanding of how blogging should actually be done and I have you all to thank for it as I continue to learn as I go along. I must say that I was amazed by all the different styles and genres of blogging that I have seen since participating in the poetry challenge. I am now following and totally loving blogs with no words, blogs with only pictures or videos, blogs with jokes, and so on – all kinds of blogs! The options are endless when it comes to the creative mind, and I for one am glad to now be a part of it.

All in all, it was a great experience and I hope to do even better next April. In the meantime I shall continue to enjoy my usual morning ritual of reading before getting my content together in hopes of improving with time.

Thanks writers!





“The Door” Part II


It wasn’t very long before we arrived when He said, “Come on in!”

As we entered Mom and Dad told me, “You don’t have to worry here, there is no sin.”

They sang a song with lyrics saying, ‘all is good, all is well;  we are believers, our souls are safe –

we did not fail!’

I had never heard music for a song such as this; 

giving the message that from here to there is only separated by an abyss.

Pleasantly, the song went on while colorful flowers swayed and hummed;

until a glowing angel flew by playing on a harp that strummed,

“This is where you leave everything that you ever feared!” 

I immediately found this to be true when it all disappeared! I was so gratefully amazed, but not by that only;

another angel came fast,  his wings whispering softly, “You’ll never again be lonely.”

The fourth door opened, and the Lord’s table was set;

I was the guest of honor, and all of my needs were met.

Satiated from life’s fruit, I am fulfilled;

a fifth door swings opened to unending multitudes declaring to be healed.

Totally unaware of how much time had passed

I didn’t even care how long this trip would last, but Mom turned to me and said with a smile,

“Time is no longer an issue, though this time is only for a while.”

I can’t say that I was upset, I just wanted to stay;

Dad informed me that I was free to do so, but today was not the day.

They led me to one last door, the one through which I left

Not needing to say goodbye ever again,


I was back to myself…R.I.P. Mommy and Daddy in Paradise!


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