Poetry On A Roll

brightens up dull rooms
puts a smile on people’s faces
and calm their spirits with the smell of
freshness

Sunlight rest at nighttime
waking up at the crack of
dawn, breathe one more day.

The bedridden old man held
his wife’s fragile hand, he hasn’t
left her bedside once.

Hot lava runs down
from her tear-stained cheeks,
she cries for a quick release
of frustration, walkways on her face.

Anger binds, ties up
minds into knots, confusion
erupts twisting images.

I met a gentleman with a kind heart
right from the start
he performed his part
such a sweetheart

But he is not my kind of guy.
He wants to try
to tie the knot
but I cannot

marry a man I do not love,
it’s not enough
to laugh and play
house on display.

I need someone to love me right
one who will fight
through the good times
undistracted by immature games

Someone who will hold me passionately
all night, affectionately
whispering sweet
lullabies, my heart skips a beat

A gentleman, a provider,
fearless leader
created exclusively for me;
my lock and key.

A book is not meant
to collect dust on a shelf,
the pages turn brown.

I’m blessed with life, love, and family. I am here,
thankful for these monumental things and so many other
bundles of joy, dispensed by the grace of God. I appreciate
life in a more positive light, overlooking the irrelevant
and forging ahead with purpose. Prayer has been
a consistent blanket of warmth around me. I’m
experiencing more appreciation and finding
less to complain about, I’m working on putting
down the gadgets, so I can enjoy
the precious people around me.
Overall, I’m living a more joyful and fulfilled life.
My strengths are to my advantage.

Prayer is a required tool.
Gotta stay, “prayed up.”
I make sure I do not skip a beat,
it is that important.

I wish someone had been engaged in my life
enough to offer moral support. I chased after
little boys in adulthood, just someone to help me
understand my worth and what I could stand for
or not before the genuine men came along,
but by then, I was no longer interested in their
childish games. I was used to disappointments.
Someone always walked away wounded
in my crusade, to figure out this mess.

I stood at the screened-in entry when
my uncle drove up. He wandered past me
as if I was invisible, disregarding my presence,
with an invitation for my cousin to accompany him
to Six Flags. I overheard him, and stared at him like,
what about me? He glanced my way and replied nothing.
I didn’t exist another day.