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Roses be roses—
no thorns,
no pain,
only pleasure
leaving sweet sensation
on soul and skin.

Fire be fire—
no burn,
no scars,
just remolded,
not to ashes,
but to worth.

Awakening—
realizing
that once I breathe,
and once it ceases,
I embalm to forever.

Not in toil
of envy
or blind admiration
as the world spins on.

In your space,
in your place,
you will shine
and outshine—
like the dawning
of a summer day.

In your voice,
in your sound,
you will rise
and outrise—
like a satellite
in orbit.
You don't need to be someone else to be YOU. You need to find who you are truly in Christ Jesus. Let Him shine through YOU.
Jesus' baby May 11
MOTHER
A word thoughtfully
Spiritfully
Embroidered.

Many pushed forth
A few nurtured and brooded.

Mother—
An entity enjoyed by some
But tasted by so few.

Hurray
I sing of a woman
My world.

I celebrate my hope
Wrapped for me
From God.

Happy Mother's Day
To my Odogwu
Jesus' baby May 8
Blank as snow,
my mind has resigned—
Not from frail nerves,
but from the loss of momentum.

My fingers wrestle with the pen,
my hand clings to the laptop.
Open the tap—
Let even a drop fall.

Inspire me,
that I might inspire others.

Little by little,
a mighty ocean will stir,
erupting—
Breaking every bound.

Tap the keys, O hand.
Sketch the thoughts, dear fingers.
Just let the mind ignite—
Rome will be built, for sure.

Not unaliving,
but ensuering,
a cure will be found.
Jesus' baby May 7
“To love is to lose with grace.” — Unknown

Spill thee an ocean
Let the waves wail high,
their sorrow shattering the hush.

My heart aches—
cradling love
too heavy to hold.

With trembling hands,
I let go.

Leaving you,
a grief-shaped freedom
haunts the air.
Period.
Jesus' baby May 4
Young plants laugh—
carefree in the wind,
smiling at the sun,
whispering, “Time waits for us.”

They sway,
but do not root.
They stretch upward
without drawing deep.
Still they hum, “Time is a friend.”

Unaware—
of the soil's silent pleading,
the richness beneath,
the mercy in the earth.
They hope for a tomorrow
not promised.

Wisdom calls—
“Serve Me in the days of your youth.”
But they chant back,
loud in their pride,
“We are the pulse of this age!”

The Master stands,
hands open,
eyes full of knowing:
Take position.
Take your place.

And I,
a quiet observer,
a hopeful heart,
wonder—
Will they hear Him in time?
Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them;
-- Ecclesiastes 12:1
KJV Holy Bible
Jesus' baby May 1
Work out—
Let your body speak:
Flesh stretching,
Fibers straining,
Blood pounding,
Mind alert.

There’s a list—
Push-ups, planks, presses—
Each one chasing the same prize:
Strength.
Discipline.
Endurance.

But one remains unsung,
Unseen in gym mirrors,
Unlisted in fitness charts,
Unshared across the globe.

It is the exercise of the unseen—
A sacred training:
Prayer.

Not whispered ritual,
But a fire-breathed posture—
Spirit clenched,
Soul bending,
Body bowed low.

This workout unbinds:
Spirit ignited,
Soul awakened,
Mind renewed—
A trembling reach
That brushes the robe of God.
Spirit meeting Spirit,
Deep calling unto deep.

They call it prayer.
But I—
I know it as sweat of the soul.

For while the body gains little,
The one who presses through to touch the Divine
Is changed.
Expanded.
Exalted.
Magnified.
Jesus' baby May 1
Diseased
Sores bloomed on my soul—
a garden of pain,
thorned with worry,
tended by doubt.

Anxieties gnawed the edges of my mind,
each thought a wave
crashing against fragile faith.

Diseased.
I exhaled despair
onto the ulcers
that blistered my skin—
a silent cry only heaven heard.

Then,
His Spirit gathered me
like a wind gathers ashes.
In the hush of His Presence,
I was not condemned—
I was cleansed.

My spirit, once bound,
now shouted:
Victory.
Freedom.
Peace.

The sores on my soul
simmered into silence,
their fire quenched
by mercy.
I emerged—
clean,
pure,
whole.

My mind, once a battlefield,
now rested in light.
My soul, once silenced,
began to hum its healing.
My spirit realigned,
cradled in the rhythm of grace.

La, la, la—
my spirit danced.

Li, li, li—
my soul replied.

And my body—
once weary—
now moved
to the tempo of testimony:
Hallelujah.
My testimony.
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