Though you are both gone
From this Earth;
There's a gift you gave me
At my birth.

It fills a place
In my heart.
I felt it there
From the start.

You passed to me
Your wisdom, kindness, honesty.
And the passion
For writing poetry.
I cannot tell you
Just what that means.

The flutter of a Butterfly
Will always be
A beautiful sight
And the symbol of your memory
In my soul and in my mind.

In my heart
I will always feel you there,
Because a Grandmother's Love
Is the everlasting gift you shared.

Thank you for your examples & legacy.
Thank you for inspiring me.
Thank you both for sharing your life
Through written words and poetry.
And thank you both for your
Grandmother's Love you left with me.

🦋💜🦋
©KSS 1/22/2021

Tattoo

The lines run down my back
Intertwining
Crossing over the other
Each having a purpose
Each telling a story
Giving a bit of history
Showing some love
Needle as a brush
Blood as the paint
Skin being the canvas
Finish product is art
Pain coming with the work
It is not to brag
It has meaning
It is
My history
My future
My legacy

CIVILIZATION

To grow
as a
person it's
important
to make
time for
oneself.
Self growth
is
significant
to
environmental development. Much more to
life than
ignorance.
Education best legacy.

#c9_fm

All I really want
Is to make someone write
That somebody, somewhere
May find in my poems
A hopeful thought
A new reality
A special swagger

Or simply to make someone smile
Halfway around the world
With eyes on the screen
A tiny jewel to take through the day
To help navigate this pandemic
Lifting up someone's mood
Just for a little while

But my deep desire
Is to be remembered by the universe
That my poems will touch
Another human permanently
And that touch like perfume
Will spread outward
Across time and space forever

It is a selfish ambition
And reality sends me to tears
To know I am nobody
That my poems will be thrown
Into the dustbin of infinity
And shall be dissolved into atoms
Never to be read ever again

They said

her tongue is too big
for a pretty little mouth like that

They wanted to cut it
as if it will give me more freedom
Change my mind
Liberate my sleep

Then they said
tape your mouth shut
Rip it from your lips then
remember that sting every morning when you wake
Build up that grainy residue
So that no amount of scrubbing away will change anything

That raspy, hazy din of voice–
It’s not mine anymore when you let it invade your comfort

Whose grating is it then

when I bend and it works
Your move
then it just doesn’t?

I’ll rest in my autumn warmth
wait for the drowning of winter
then after
I will warn you of Spring

Every way, each day
I am present to see it.
His miracle of being
I the recipient his gift
Awestruck, humbled, blessed
This I understand completely
Though I know not how, or why
I.  This man I still learn to know
As myself, of my self,
Admit having witness his growing
In great measure do I envy him
See his approach at living, being
embodying the kindest soul,
Naturally thoughtful and caring
How he is, has become
A lesson that I do learn from
My little legacy, so far beyond
better than from which he comes
I worry for him as fathers must
But not of him, of life's unexpected
always haunting every person
just out of foretelling, behind any horizon
For this treasure of my life I know
No doubt, to be a person of light
Wits, genuine smiles, listening and learning
His my Son, He is my Hero
I am out done, and yet,
ever the more thankful.
Blessed by You Zieven Lee.
Thank You.  More than you'll ever know.