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I'm not heartless, I've just learned to use my heart less
#alala!@#$%^&*Z(){}|~<><><><><><><><><><><><><><<
Coffee brings the morning and
ashtrays hold the night before
I’ve thought about this for so long
I think I won’t think anymore

I brought you here to talk about it
But you’re still leaning on the door
I’ll smoke another cigarette
And leave the ashes on the floor
I was born to be his mother
I squeeze him tight
Always the last to let go
I show him how to hold a hand
How feelings also make a man

I was born to be his mother
I wipe his nose
Look him deep in his eyes
I teach him words and how to stand
He teaches back, I make sure he knows he can

I was born to be his mother
I turn the sound down so he can hear
I make the lights bright so he can feel warmth
We play in puddles and build with sand
I thought he’d walk, but then he ran
My niece
made me bangle
of letters, starts, unicorns|
and colored beads

Then it hit me
that's her poem to me
a set of random things
that sit beautifully
side by side
around in a circle

and I noticed that
that's the first time
someone wrote
a poem
about
me
Not quite close enough
to the end of the week.
Yet, in grace and persistence,
determination leads
to steadfast progress
and steady growth.
Tuesday brings hustle and flow.  
A day to push and onward go.

©️Lizzie Bevis
Tuesday tends to bring that get up and get on mentality…
The Daily Prayer                               The Daily Prayer
AUG 2010                                            OCT  2017

Be forever young 'n humble;   seven yearlings of plenty famine;
Feel ancient and royal;              youthful graybeard commoner now,
Ride tall in the saddle;              old hoary, crooked headed ancien
Do something nifty;                   content to just, just walk crookedly

Take someone's hand                if they permit, for hands gnarled,
Unexpectedly:                             roughened and time toughened,
Drive home in the slow lane;   only the city bus, now bows, kneels,
Do the de minims;                      how has the minimalist become
Do the de maximis;                     the max, the best old-dog-in-show?
Leave a book on a park bench;  forgetfulness, unintended bonuses,
Use pen n paper, write a letter; the fingers shaky press cell button,
Take a chance, make people laugh; your appearance quite the joke,
Barrel into contention;                 a barrel casket, half your wardrobe
Show mercy to the confused, no arrogance, have mercy upon poets,
Show anger to the abusers. for they fear voices calling out, account!
Bless a child with both hands; now take their blessings returned
Grasp your soul; throw it down, others sidle, it's our time, now,
Then raise a child to the sky.       to raise you up father of fathers
Straight up,                                    straighten your time bents, curves,
Build a continuum,                       honor thy work ever continuing
You and they,                                 we, and you, we are all your steps,
              on a ladder of each poem, to guide us heavenward


**each poem a prayer, each prayer a poem, passing back, coming forth in the crests upon the beach and bay you so loved, the moon and sun both shine simultaneously while it rains straight,
                                    all come, each to recite,
even the One with whom you vociferous argued, unrepentantly,
all here, together placing that weighty last period at the end of
                                        your daily prayer.
https://hellopoetry.com/search/poems/?q=a+daily+prayer

a suggestion- read each side as a separate poem, then across as one

8:37am 10 years later, 10 years lateral, 10 years lovely. 10 years in the writing
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