Someone installed grass,
carpet greenery and leaves-
dogwood pinks assert.

Fine yellow powder,
blows through the air, clings to cars-
delicate, bright blooms.

Crave black dirt and seeds,
fingertips immersed in soil-
sunshine comforting.



First time holding child;
drowsy wonder at the sight-
stroking down-soft cheek.

Frown in a small face
chapped lips kiss misshapen skull-
lids struggle open.

Friends, pray for my path,
that in my guidance to her
He would fill my gaps.


I will walk my road with hope,

Even when it makes me cry-

When there’s more questions

Than there’s answers,

I will rise and I will try.

My Father has walked this road before me,

He knows how it will end-

For now I will cling to Him, my comfort and my friend.


Anger qualifies,

Quick trigger terrifies.

Automatic speed,

Scoop mud and weed;

so rapidly the brain can

gather facts,

while like-minded support

loudly claps,

And fling it in their face.


Contention onstage

At the suggestion spoken-

Truth swaddled behind.

Face the stage light,

Speak alone.

Distance from floor to sky

Endless measure.

Pitch black behind,

Where vice lives.


God equips in the shallow
matters of trade and food-
layer upon layer of aptitude,
seeds sprout and grow;
time of reaping comes predictably
with rules He set of environment and
Many cross arms, view our neighbors
God has gifted them more,
it’s unfair.
Few are willing to develop the aptitudes
he plants in us,
the hard work of making the flower
what He has gifted-
the neglect, impatience with
feeding, watering, weeding
mundane necessity pushed aside.

True Hope

If my kingdom fall in
red clay dirt,
my dreams sucked dry
I thought were girt-
heart ripped out by those I loved,
knife-tongued word I am shoved.
My basic needs taken away,
still I must find time to pray.
Though things are bleak, dark, and cold
a dust of hope still has it’s hold.

Born again

overwhelming lights,
still hear the dripping from the
nails wounds
that brought me here when the
womb flowered
and I emerged, afterbirth dew still
clinging to me.
No touch of influence,
colors my faith.

Important relationship

I really love my family and everything,
But won’t discuss them with anyone,
Because that, you know, is private, between me and them.
Same with good friends.
If I”m always talking about them,
It might offend someone, or make me look fanatical about them.
I wouldn’t want to shove my relationship with them down people’s throat.
Then there’s my children.
If I talk about them, if will turn people off to them.
Maybe if I quietly am nice and kind, without bringing my husband up, people will ask why I’m so much nicer and kinder, and will ask about our relationship.

Angry debate

Brilliant reasonings

Delivered in vehement,

Chest heaving, clamor;

Did little but trip mechanisms

Inside your own mind, made strong, logical, and quick arguments.

Yet your kindness somehow, by

Repetition of it’s caress and consistency

Made it’s way through my walls.