Dear Black Mothers (4th Hour 2020)

Dear Black Mothers,

I am sorry that your moments of powerful love were twisted into existential fear.

I am sorry that at a time you should be able to revel in your child’s natural life, you are made to feel deep doubts of their very existence.

That the monsters you protected them from underneath their beds have transitioned into real ones in the outside world.

Hell, they are still busting in their bedrooms–guns blazing.

While, we, the villagers just looked on.

I know you felt it. As a mother you have that bond.

That other-worldly, celestial, I carried you for nine months or so while you fed off of my body, heart, and soul bond.

Could never be cut once the cord is gone

It still thrived there within the bosom their little bodies nourished from

It still manifested itself when they moved away from home for the first time and you both dream of dreams that were much more than love and hope and fear.

It was there when you raised up one, not of your own blood but of your own spirit.

That stellar, blessed, divine bond.

I know you felt it.

When your child,

the human you created, molded,

blessed as you kissed their boo-boos away left this Earth.

No. Not left.

It wasn’t by choice that you’re little cherub with ten tiny toes and ten tiny fingers transcended to a bigger human to an angel, again.

Some didn’t even make it to adulthood.

No. Not make it. Their growth was stunted.

It wasn’t by choice that your babygirl with black curls and beautiful smile stopped breathing.

It wasn’t by choice that your lil shy boy who you always dreamt about becoming a beautiful grown man with more dreams than nightmares took his last breath.

No. Not that he took his last breath.

It was taken from him.

I am sorry that as a village we failed to stop the monsters from ripping your bonds.

And now, after many of your children are still being slaughtered like God’s lambs

We, the villagers, vow to make a stand

That your bonds may never be torn by the monsters’ hands.

Double Star (3rd hour 2020)

I traveled through the phases of the moon just to be with you

Sorted myself through the stars and the zodiacs as Orion tried to trap me with his belt

And Scorpio does what it must as it thrusted its stinger at my heart

Cupid wanted no part in this

He turned with his wings and flew beyond the Celestial bliss

I wrangled Taurus down to the asterism of the big dipper and we both drowned our sorrows there

Like all things, this infuriated Aries

He rammed his head into my body and pushed me out of my melancholy

The apathetic Libra just laughed

While the conjoined twins of drama and comedy pulled me apart

and flung pieces of me to the limb

The gentle maiden of the Equinox gathered my remains

and sewn me back together using her grains

Aquarius and Pieces stood by and shooed the crab and lion away from my still life

While a sure-footed goat with a fish tail opened my eyes

Bailey’s Beads was but a touch nearby

Where our love and embraces became lies

I thought to wrong some rights and set my sights to go

and braced myself upon the archer’s arrow as he pulled back his bow

I traveled through the constellations for me

In that century, I knew of physical pain

But there was far more torture when your love pulled away

Star-crossed lovers, binary as we could be

Now each of us plummeting in our own galaxies




Recipe for Buena Suerte “Good Luck” (2nd hour 2020)

This recipe was pass down to me from all those who thrive in creativity. Found in a powerful Bruja’s Botanica aka apothecary, please be sure to use it carefully.

The list of Ingredients you shall find in front of you and some inside

1 chalice of Faith

2 sprigs of Lavender

A bunch of Yerba Buena (Good Herbs)

Two folds of light

3 dashes of Passion


Grab your chalice and fill it with Faith. Do it with confidence in your inner strength.

Crush the two sprigs of Lavender into the grail, for the sake of calm to overcome whatever blockage of hell.

With your good hand, apprehend, as much as Yerba Buena you can. Use the mortar and pestle and grind the roots to you are able to get all the Earthy juice in the vessel.

Two folds of light are called for, please get this one right. One of the literal kind and the other may only be found inside. Both must be used in order for the ingredients to be carefully infused. One step of misdirection, bad intentions could be bad for you.

and at last, the foremost portion of your boosting potion. That must be ingrained gingerly. Soft and gentle but oh so capable. A firmness of your adoration that drives itself to your heels. The one thing that can appease your heart, mind, soul, and body. Not one, not two, but three of these. Dashes of your passion must be squeezed with ease. Too much of the stuff can become deadly.

Mix all five elements into the chalice you hold before you. Swirl it round, drink it down, and let it brew.




Selene (1st Hour 2020)

Selene, the first of her name

The first to be blamed

to go down in history in flames

The men alter her story

when they falter in their own glory

Like many, they paint this Goddess

with Godless gossip

and tell the tales of her legacy

to define her life as heresy

Selene, the first to be gaslit

but a society that was male dominant

where Gods grant you desires

all the while setting them on fire

For her love for a mortal was set ablaze

By the very same who would scorch her name

Zeus set upon her the love of her life

And gave me him a choice on how he should die

The all-knowing knew what would transpire

As her lover chose to sleep forever by the pyre

Selene, the first of her name

forever bounded to her immortal shame

by Gods and men who marked her with the blame

because of their jealousies and covetousness

they tell her tale to be the first succubus



Hello All

Good luck everyone. I am beyond excited to do this with all of you again. Let’s get it started. You may see me on the facebook group as SparrowsInkwell. That is my handle for my writer’s name Jessica L. Sparrow.

Same handle I use for instagram and Twitter.


Again, good luck and happy writing.

Goddess Freya in my Garden (24th hour)

Wondrous weeping willows wallow near my windows

Outstretched reaching out to me, inviting me to explore the outside festivities

Frogs are hopping about croaking loud and free

Crickets chirping their way through the grass

Little Sparrows singing songs of solace spring searching for food

The Spring sprinkles are quenching our natural thirst

For hydration, saturation and satiation

Leaving us with a rejuvenating vision of Mother Earth

This magical moment of the year is where all once dead

Rises back up again

The sun is just careful enough to brighten our days

Without scorching our souls

I am at my most happiest during these celestial stages

Then Mother moon appears meandering about my garden

Shining her moonbeams across the pavement, sending dancing shadows across the gray stones

Wrapping her bright stars around my waist lulling me to sleep

But the storm makes its way beating against my window panes

Its thunderous clasps are to remind me that she is energetic as she is soft

I open my windows to her clamors

I welcome her showers

I bathe my spirit in her streams

As the moon cloaks my inner bearings

I learn all of their secrets

I learn the mournful roars and rumbles

I now know what it is to endure

My Best Friend…My Husband (23rd hour)

There are many days I reflect upon our union

The memories of our first kiss still has me swooning

I wonder what magical manifestations were created on our behalf

What sort of divine intervention had to be choreographed?

Our love is that of a young and vibrant love, to this day I am in awe of you

Our love is beyond measure of anniversaries and material things

Everyday my heart swells with songs of you

Every night I do thank God, the heavenly bodies and anyone else who may have crafted our destinies to be united

I am fortunate that my soul mate lies by my side, day and night

We are blessed to have each other

Lucky that we found one another

To grow old together

Til our dying day

I regret nothing, I wouldn’t have it any other way

Olé Flamenco Dancer (22nd hour)

Carmen waits for the guitarist to strum and pluck

While the other dancers sit


Stomp in unison

The singer wails *con tanto pasion

Egging Carmen on

To slam her feet on the platform

As she raises her left hand in the air with her fan in her right hand

She struts her fan open and waves her arms about to the singer’s moans

Carmen thrusts her body to and fro

Spins from one corner to the other

Contorts her body into a modelesque stance

Her dress seems to be made of wind and flames

Twirling her skirt open like a rose

Whirling her hand and fan wildly around the air above her head

And in one final pitched cry

In one final strum

One final pluck

Final stomp

She gently but forcibly moves her arms back to her sides

Closing the rose to rest

And back up again

Beautifully frozen



*is spanish for “with lots of passion”


So Not Nocturnal (21st Hour)

I am not here

I am not there

At this point, my brain feels like it’s going no where

I’m too groggy to think

Too tired to care

I just want my bed and pillow

The hell with the end zone

My soul, however, wants something quite different

It screams let’s finish this, you dip shit

It bullies the brain with memories of never finishing what we started

The brain begins to cry, it is fainthearted

The soul pokes the brain and calls it a quitter

The bitter brain beats about

While the spritely spirit stomps and shout

Meanwhile, my body is full of caffeine rage

Muttering under its breath to all shut the fuck up and stay the hell awake


’90s Summers in Newark (20th hour)

Summer rooftops filled with Crazy Eights

Pick 2

Pick 4

Pick 4 more

Pick-up 32 because Shorty got swoll

Smacking back sunflower seeds

Spitting David up and out to the pavement

While Wu-Tang resonates in the background so effortlessly

Arizona Iced Teas

Laffy Taffys

Nerds Candy

Want to go some play some pool, now or later?

Mastering the arts of being quick witted by hiking on each other

Sparking up another game of pick-up 32 because Shorty be bugging

Obtaining the skills of crafty fast thinking by playing chess, always staying ahead of the game

Fuck checkers, that’s for punk asses

Yo Cuz, take that deck away from Shorty

Heading downstairs to the joint

Sweeping the floors

power on the jukebox, Redman comes on…”Time 4 Sumaksion”

Sneaking cigarettes and piss water downed beer

While we hustle some old ass perverts on the pool table

Jersey kids doing what they do best

Trying to pass the time without getting caught up

Because trouble round the block

And Shorty ain’t here no more