HR20 – Prayer
Putting aside my ego, I
Recognize that You Are.
All-seeing, All-knowing, Always here.
Your Kingdom come, Your will be done, on
Earth, as it is in Heaven. I
Rest and leave the rest to You.
MMIW: Sacajawea
MMIW: Sacajwea
Another name that was lost in time.
To be honest,
the only time I’ve heard
of Sacajeewa was in a book
“Streams to the River, Rivers to the Sea”
By Scott O’Dell.
It was in her point of view,
but it was watered down,
because Scott O’Dell
is a children/teens author.
After that,
it was the dollar coin.
A coin dedicated to her,
for her voyage with Lewis and Clark.
But again,
her story wasn’t told.
She was only in her teens,
forced into an abusive marriage.
Having kids during the expedition.
She gave her last child to Lewis,
left to live her last few days alone.
19. Erroneous Around
Sitting in the light, of night
Rested like a cat, at that
Penning like Ol’ Poe, you know
And never rhyming better.
Senses quickened, like a chicken
Revveling in the gab, like a hermit crab
Eyesight whole as mole
Because I’m not a quitter.
Hour 20: Mornings Aren’t For The Weak
Each morning when I wake up, I slowly check the time
Try to remember what day it is, even if I heard my alarm chime.
I crawl out of bed all bleary-eyed and take care of necessities
Honestly, up to that point, I avoided all complexities.
Once I finish up on that part of my routine
I go to take my dog out, he is a small one and thirteen.
We make our way back inside, I make a beeline for the kitchen
I tend to be grumbly up to that point, but I refrain from any bitc…griping.
As my coffee in the Keurig brews, I feed the dog and cat
The cat is usually yowling at me, can you imagine that?
I doctor up my coffee, a little sugar and some cream
Finally, I can sit, this is where I begin to scheme.
I think about what my day holds, work or is it a weekend?
If it is work, I gulp my drink for my energy to spend.
10pm. Poem 20 Mornings with Lucy
10pm. Poem 20
Mornings with Lucy
She comes to me at first alarm
laying her head on my breast
settling in tummy to tummy
She makes biscuits
and closes her eyes
to heal me with her rhythmic purr.
She is my morning.
She is the start of each day.
She is why I can do what I do.
When so much is uncertain
she is my constant.
She is my love.
twenty: Uniform Corruption
Uniform Corruption
All of the deeds witnessed
We took pictures and oaths of truth
Wanted freedom to need of freedom
Was confronted by the devil
A cunning fellow disguised as overseer
Chance that we would be seen being pushed
To the road to hell with savage intent…
Talk to my lawyer
(Inspired by “The Charade” by D’Angelo & Kendra Foster)
Poem 20
Morning Theta waves
wakes me up to influence—
a meditative
state, which opens my heart to
hear, “Today is a great day!”
Hour 8: Daily Ritual
Spiritualism and Religion are two sides of same coin
yet neither depends on the other
Know I not if God exists but I do know
Spiritual thoughts have prevailed over millennia.
Simple cow farmers of ancient India held lofty thoughts
And propounded them in words of deep-seated meaning
The wealth of thought grows by distribution
unlike physical riches that diminish on sharing.
So it came that everyday like clockwork
I discourse on one aphorism of ancient thought
And propogate by means electronic
To a tiny faithful lot of fellow travelers
On the less-trodden path of self introspection
And verily, it’s only in the remembrance of God do hearts find comfort.
And verily, it’s only in the remembrance of God do hearts find comfort.
الله أكبر
The days would only break by your name.
And peace be unto us and peace be upon
Our mothers, May our brothers find the serenity
In your name, May our sisters hearts never ache.
الحمد لله
My mouth carries ginger and garlic
But alhamdulilah sits most comfy in here.
God, let me not lose touch, let me not
Fail, let me not fall, and if I ever do,
Let me not crumble.
Allahu Akbar Allahu Akbar
May the world retain its balance
May the evil fear us for being good
May our deeds never return from
Heaven empty handed—
Salam
Hour 18: Ghosts
2 days after my great-grandmother died
My little sister stood in her crib
Pointing, giggling, and saying her name
I hope she was right
I hope ghosts are real
It’ll be fun
Haunting those who’ve haunted me