"preserver" poems
To some siblings are a gift from God
To some siblings are a curse from hell
But to me....
siblings are...
A shoulder to cry on when I overflow
An ear to listen when I need to clear mii head
A body to talk to when I'm not in the mood
Mii help me when I can't do it alone
Mii life preserver when I swim out to far
Mii buddy when I wanna play
Mii closest friend whom no one can replace
Mii guardian who has mii back when I'm too busy covering the front
Mii treasure box in which I confide all of mii precious secrets
Mii compass for when I've lost mii way
Mii salt for when mii food is tasteless
Mii hope when I'm backed up against the wall
Mii night light when I'm afraid to sleep
Mii....
I have no more words to describe mii siblings for no one can truly use words to say just what...
Mii siblings are to me...
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 3:55 PM UTC
This salt
in the saltcellar
I once saw in the salt mines.
I know
you won't
believe me,
but
it sings,
salt sings, the skin
of the salt mines
sings
with a mouth smothered
by the earth.
I shivered in those solitudes
when I heard
the voice of
the salt
in the desert.
Near Antofagasta
the nitrous
pampa
resounds:
a broken
voice,
a mournful
song.
In its caves
the salt moans, mountain
of buried light,
translucent cathedral,
crystal of the sea, oblivion
of the waves.
And then on every table
in the world,
salt,
we see your piquant
powder
sprinkling
vital light
upon
our food. Preserver
of the ancient
holds of ships,
discoverer
on
the high seas,
earliest
sailor
of the unknown, shifting
byways of the foam.
Dust of the sea, in you
the tongue receives a kiss
from ocean night:
taste imparts to every seasoned
dish your ocean essence;
the smallest,
miniature
wave from the saltcellar
reveals to us
more than domestic whiteness;
in it, we taste infinitude.
12.3k
a miracle child
born to a mortal mother
***the creator pretends
to be the created***
stealing butter,
breaking pots,
teasing girls,
Gokulam’s naughtiest child
and then one day
the friends complain
“Mother Yashoda, your little one
is eating mud from the Yamuna banks”
worried she rushes
to her darling boy
her anxiety disguised as anger
he smiles - the sly little blue-eyed boy
in his musical voice he cries-
“I did not eat mud, sweet mother, the boys lie!
***come look within
and see with your own eyes!”***
poor Mother Yashoda
not knowing she stared
into that little mouth
and lost herself in what was there
he lifted swiftly the
veil of maaya
the truth shone forth
with a blinding light!
*** त्वमेव माता च पिता त्वमेव ।
त्वमेव बन्धुश्च सखा त्वमेव ।
त्वमेव विद्या द्रविणम् त्वमेव ।
त्वमेव सर्वम् मम देव देव ॥***
she saw herself
and her dear little boy
the whole of Gokulam
within his jaws lay!
and the whole earth
and the universe
galaxies and multiple worlds
was her little boy cursed?
her fear mounted as she saw
the entire cosmos
the boundaries blurred
time - a non-entity
the past, present and future
only a tiny river
she saw the vast expanse
of his creation
he made these worlds
held them like puppets on a string
and then morphing
he became death!
and unable to take more
she swooned
when the Creator, the Preserver and the Destroyer
merged to become-her adored little one!
*** You are my mother, and my father
You are my relative and my friend
You are knowledge, You are prosperity
You are my everything, My God of Gods***
and then he looked at her
with an infinite compassion
he’d shown her
what she needed to see
now it was time
for her to forget, to become
his doting mother again
he kisses her with innocent love and toothy grin
once more
maaya takes hold
the illusion more beautiful
more irresistible to behold!
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
04.09.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Sep 4, 2012
Sep 4, 2012 at 2:45 AM UTC
A tug of war
It is the past experience and what was saw and felt
A word in keeping a person in line
A restriction of one’s thoughts and actions
A procedure in holding one back
******* being a form beyond one’s accord
Thank God there is a Lord
There is a chance to survive
More than a thought being a strive
I dream but all I see is a nightmare
I see effort, but when will there be preserver?
Its like a road block with detour
A method of turn back
I feel as if I am trapped in bonds
Maybe I am still sleep and need to wake up from my yond
Perhaps it’s nothing more than a dream
It’s my thinking I am in a movie stream
But its truly tough being rough
A different slavery oppression of the past with a theory of the present
A overseer continuing in present oppression
A silenced voice having no expression
The downward bound with no mountain reach
It’s time for a rebellion approach
Oppression is real and not a joke
It’s like an open wound with having a stinging poke
Oppression is alive and attempting to do well
Yet the world has a message in tell
‘OPPRESS AND OVERCOME, ITS ABOUT NO MOVEMENT AND BEING NUMB. IT TAKES MULTITUDES IN SUPPLYING THE STRENGTH, BUT ALL MUST GO THE MILES NO MATTER WHAT THE LENGTH”
Survival is how you chose to live
Its not a verb but is subjective
The voice must always be objective
Oppression cannot continue in terms in having its way
The sunrise has risen and it’s a tomorrow being a new day
These are the times to move forward and be strong
It’s a matter of all personalities of creeds in knowing how to get along
So shake whatever chains you feel you have on
Stand up and be counted where you belong
Don’t let any form of oppression hold you back
You have grasped the concept of understanding in the theory of thinking sharp being the detailed tack
Just give oppression one big smack
Listen America it’s the various cultures that stack
Oppression stand back as you have been defeated being a pack.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 5:18 PM UTC
Have you ever seen a person drown?
You fight, muscles straining as you reach--flailing helplessly toward what you need most. You can't stand it anymore as your body screams for oxygen. You gasp-- hoping, praying this is a dream, but a searing burn rushes down your throat and through your lungs as water floods in. It shouldn't be there, you know it-- every cell screams but it's too late, the water is inside and keeps flooding in. You reach for the light one last time, it filtering and bending into bright rays around your fingers. Your vision grows dull, your muscles no longer respond to what your brain is telling them to do. The light growing dimmer and dimmer as the last bubbles float to the surface. One last ray of gold slips through your fingers... Then nothing...
It's to be expected for any animal to struggle as much as possible while drowning in the water. Some will put others of their kind underneath them, just for precious moments of rest and survival.
So what do you do when you find a person overboard, drowning in the sea of black?
Naturally, I throw the life preserver in hopes that they will grab onto it and I can save them.
Remember what I said when some creatures will force their own kin under in order to live?
Well, what do you do with a creature like that?
Eventually, it's you or them. At this point, it's natural to choose you!
Jun 6, 2025
Jun 6, 2025 at 7:19 PM UTC
Meaningful is the wayward child that is found,
For he or she finds favor in thus adoring praise.
Replenishing spiritual vines that spread messages
of hope above and beyond.
Therefore, the third eye knoweth all.
Whose breath gives life to the faint hearted.
As barriers are tore down, crossing over...
Anointed one, where, the precious angel entered.
You are the brothers and sisters in faith building.
They do preserver as the battle of Jericho.
In a molding guidance of clay made hands...
For their is hope of feeding the milk as well as the flesh.
Kisses of glory befall unto your good graces.
Thou wisdom quench the hell like rain pour puddles.
His world! His judgment! His wrath!
Bestow thou honor, in hills of perfect talk.
Fatherless child! Fatherless child! Beware of the dragon den.
Slay your enemies with delicate wings:the cup of kindness.
As you are humbled in purple linens, fading all unseemly.
The soldier of bravery, when thou hour come, there is a home.
Cross over into the well enlightened pathways.
Make the rough roads a gateway to the everlasting promise.
Sing in jubilation, for tribulation is done and your vision seen.
May 21, 2011
May 21, 2011 at 10:21 AM UTC
It’s time to discover your roots
Your heritage from the very beginning
History in the making being an inning
Being surprised in what you will find out
You mighty have somebody famous that you want to know more about
Now gather your research and see what you find out
Perhaps your roots date back to a craftsman who designed something unique
Maybe a celebrity figure who has reached their peak
Then later you find out they also tweet
Maybe a slave who was part of the plantation war
Ancestry eye heritage into another
Physical portrait of the other
Heritage that gave you a start
Your life was creation being a new mark
Heritage from yesterday
Destiny being your journey
Your future prepared from the very beginning
Your past too help you preserver on
A moment of reflection, “Knowing how to get along and knowing in life in where you belong”
A distance journey ever after with tomorrow having a defined meaning, and with the conquest of information too what has been longing.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 12:58 PM UTC
where is my indian
is it in the way i don't use my palms as a medium to transport rice into the back of my mouth
is it in the way my face turns gloomy at the sight of spice and curry
is it in my skin color that isn't as brown as you need it to be
is it in my eyebrows which aren't as bushy as per your requirements
is it in the way my tongue twists awkwardly as i say happy diwali
is it in the way amma is the most fluent piece of tamil i speak
is it in the way i didn't know how to recite the words at my grandpas funeral
is it in the way i cannot, for the life of me, name you another tamil movie besides chandramukhi?
or
is it in the religious classes i took up until age 12
is it in the ramayana epic that i learnt, age 8
is it in the sanskrit bhajans i was made to sing, not knowing what they meant, age 10
is it in knowing that ganesh is the remover of obstacles,
brahma, vishnu, shiva - the creator, the preserver, the destroyer
is it in the eyeliner drawing a bindi in between my eyes when i
head to the temple, to present myself as indian
where is my indian
is it on a checklist, is there a passing mark?
where is my indian
please tell me,
because i am tired of feeling like a foreigner in my own skin
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 6:33 AM UTC
A race between the Flash and the Man of Steel
This would be a competition for real
Who do you think would move fast?
Who would you think would come in last?
It’s a possibility in what could be
Imagine two Super Marvel’s in a race too see who is truly great
It would also show their sportsmanship in how they both relate
It would be a run to the finish
The winner being triumphed and distinguished
This wouldn’t be a race against crime
That story is another time
Flash moving at the speed of light
The Man of Steel feeling a bit uptight
The Man of Steel would be disqualified if he were to fly in order to win
But the Man of Steel coming from another planet, would that automatically disqualify from then
A canny detail
But the policy remains in order to preserver
It was Flash in the lead
The Man of Steel was maneuvering in proceed
Just around the bend
It was Flash being the champion at the very end
Well the Marvel Hero’s shook hands and are off to fight crime
This will be until the end of time.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 11:40 PM UTC
She'll sleep tight in a parallel universe tonight
my deeply serious rainbow girl astral projects
communes with Shiva and champions chakras
she has the recipe for what passes as illumined
her ignorance of current events is appalling
but that chosen ignorance is staid and unperturbed
I grumble and complain, I use the news like a ******
I put the pieces together, pattern the puzzle-
I see the BIG picture…I cut my life short
possessing a keen memory is like the proverbial millstone
the information is the lake
rainbow girl is contemptuous of my self inflicted plight
we realize its a matter of time before disparate likes divide
I am fire and she is water, I the destroyer, she the preserver
the passion can be complimentary for just so long
Like the lady bard said:
*You read those books where luxury
Comes as a guest to take a slave
Books where artists in noble poverty
Go like virgins to the grave (Joni)*
She'll tolerate my confabulated artistry a spell
I can see she's a caterwauling banshee of protestation in the waiting
Her mellifluous quietude, equanimity and perfect poise can only last so long
Before my brash stripped down vituperative diatribe is as acid in the eyes
Then be off to resume her prior harmonic convergence of heart stuff
as I with my artistic bent, abbreviate my life
*http://jonimitchell.com/music/song.cfm?id=38 The Boho Dance
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 10:12 PM UTC
A famous ship that set sailed
The name “Titanic” a cruise liner marked for preserver, but something down the line failed
The Titanic made it’s way over the seas
Yet on the deck the passengers were treated to an endless breeze
As the music played an elegant melody
The feeling of majestic royalty within red carpet hospitality
This was the first of the Titanic voyage
History in the making for sure
But will the Titanic reach destined shore?
A final night that everyone narrates and regrets
As the doomed cruise liner continued on the waves
Disaster struck with thoughts on did the waves behave
Panic was among the travelling passengers
The passengers being distinguished in the category of who’s who
There was a special passenger and I will give you a clue
The insignia of R.H.
I didn’t give the last name as I am trying to see if you figured out what R.H. stands for
You will be surprised in galore
The passenger was Rowland Hussey Macy
The name associates with MACY’S DEPARTMENT STORE
A store you probably shop today
But Mr. Macy perished on board the ship “Titanic”
Yet he was a man of the seas by way of Merchant ****** from Nantucket
But the Titanic was constructed to be unsinkable
However the situation does make one think as what really happened on the Titanic?
A mystery of the seven seas
Let your mind wander but feel at ease
All the passengers perished, and their soul’s went to thee.
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 5:57 PM UTC
Monster snowstorm Meteorologist have warned
But when you have faith you don’t be alarmed
Yet this snowstorm is going to be for the record books
All a person has to do is just look
Like a typewriter keyboard going up the ladder
But in this case it is the Northeast with the matter
If the snowstorm piles up as much as Meteorologist predict, the snow will be around long and will certainly be icy and thick
Transportation will definitely shutdown
There will be no way too get around
Everyone will be stationery in homeward bound
It will television and cell phones with snowstorm updates
Then a mission to work or wait
There is no guarantee
It is a matter of wait and see
The snowstorm provided by thee
Man can’t defeat and tell the snow too stop
It’s all controlled from the almighty being at the top
The Sanitation Department will be doing their job in clearing the snow away
However it won’t be gone all in one day
This could be a snowstorm bringing snow that could last for days
Don’t even think on taking a plane being a getaway
It will be the wintry frozen ice that will stay
The best advice that I could give is to think of the season spring
Mild with warm hearts in getting through the snow in helping you preserver
Don’t think on fear
As God is always near
A snowstorm is God’s way in purifying the earth
I remember being taught that at birth
But think on doing things at home being fun
Always remember, weather conditions you have no control and God will always be the centered number of one.
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 7:13 PM UTC
We haven’t spoken like we did,
Words feel like discarded currency;
Useless now, and inconsequential in hindsight.
Query into the why,
I respond with what,
Like a dam of unspokeness has burst,
And words flow past;
Powerful, but inevitably more destructive than I hoped,
Pushing away the life preserver I am offered,
I can do it alone, because that’s what it will come down to,
Dismissive of pessimism, you make claims of happy endings, so I refute:
“Babe, we’re fighting a cold war,
No one can win when there’s everything to lose.
Lines are drawn, allegiance implicit.
Unspoken resentment.
Vocal frustration.
A couple’s quarrel that never was,
Like Frankenstein’s monster,
The rearranged parts of our whole,
Pieces of fiction,
Light folly with cruel consequences,
Denial sets in,
My road to hell will always be paved with your best intentions.”
I will not hear, I will not see.
Willful disability,
Crippled with envy.
I am a monster with emeralds in her eyes,
Seeing the universe through glass tinted green instead of rose,
I am the monster who is thin and jagged,
Unable to produce my own warmth,
Cutting everyone near.
I am the monster who plays house,
The monster who wants it to be home,
The vicious beast with a place to rest its head,
It’s easy to be alone, but somehow less satisfying.
"My road to hell will always be paved with your best intentions.”
Our destruction is mutually assured,
No move is left unanalysed,
Hyperawareness.
Things we side aside before are the objects of argument;
Proxy wars.
I am a giraffe racing a gazelle,
Long strides mean nothing;
Beauty is the crowd favourite,
Tripping over my own limbs,
Tendons severed by chasing wildcats,
Falling, devoured, as beauty reaches the finish line.
Détente.
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 7:42 PM UTC
Pringles with presentation in flavor
The chip itself is something to sliver
One bite and you know the taste is fresh
We look and you know you need to buy
All it takes is one try
The crispness being at its best
Other potato chip competitors in their contest
Lays with no one can just one
Wise got you in their eye
Utz we got you covered
But neither one can explain why
The Pringles P being perfection
The consumer being the indication
You will agree yourself
There is no comparison with anybody else
The goodness with the man with the beard
Pringles with how your taste will preserver
It’s the crunch on yes and the flavor that says it best.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 5:25 AM UTC
Ketchup bottles have been taken off the shelves
Homes don’t even have ketchup themselves
French Fries, Hamburgers and Franks are all upset
But who in the world let?
A mystery we all must solve
We all must get involved
Look for clues in find
It’s the French Fries in who we must be kind
Let’s see of we can find any clues
We must be determined and not lose
There were traces of ketchup spills
Where there is a way is also a desired will
On the TV, there was a briefing at Heinz concerning why the ketchup was stolen
A competitor with its own brand recipe of ketchup stated, “Our ketchup is the best, and we are ready to do the test”
But will really contest?
Heinz has been around for years, but a new competitor wants to triumphed in preserver
Now how long can French Fries and other foods requiring ketchup continue in going plain?
Now the competitor being called, “ALL THE SPICES COMPANY, INC.”
ALL THE SPICES COMPANY, INC. does have a ring in its name
But what is their ingredient too whom they want us to be lame?
Now Heinz has a special blend, which they will never tell
Yet in the supermarket stores it does sell
But not knowing much about the competitor, how can they tell?
The Consumers have control in the flavor test
They will surely determine who is the best
Maybe more of less
Well after much tasting, Heinz was the victor without any effort
I am sorry to say, “ALL THE SPICES’ just couldn’t cut it
They wouldn’t have compared to even mustard
But don’t let me go there
However, just beware in who you feel is the best
Let your taste buds be the test
The French Fries can continue to have the ketchup style while competitor, “ALL THE SPICES” we be thinking on Heinz resources during while.
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 7:03 PM UTC
I see no other endless tomorrow than
To lie face to face with you
On a bed of lavenders and violets.
The cool sun magnifies
The verdant fields in your eyes
And the radiant shadows of my hair.
Morning breeze enshrouds our bodies
Sustained by flames more eternal than Vesta’s.
Here forever after
In my ideal world.
If I felt hunger it shall not last long,
For there are nectars from the giant continent that is you.
If you knew thirst it shall be quenched,
Just drink from my hidden wells and fountains.
But remember that I’m not like the ancient Eve
And you can only be the Adam in our own accord.
The butterflies or birds won’t shame me.
The grasses or trees won’t complain.
For loving you is the only truth
In my ideal world.
My hands are here to heal and amuse you,
As long as your arms embrace me from harm.
We own only the lips and ears
Where sweet sounds pass by
To lull as to dream or memorize
We’ll not know starless night of horror,
The way the moon becomes our constant watcher.
We’ll fear no lightning or thunder of wrath
For the rain will be our noble preserver.
Come and stay
In my ideal world.
We don’t have to worry about Sunday
Or think of God to pray.
Nature is our divine link to the cosmos,
And us the perpetual worship fleshed out.
Celestial or earthly we need not know
For this is the spot where boundaries depart.
But all these remain as bright colors in my head
Unless you key in yourself in my mind
And enshrine me to your heart.
Our story can be written by our breath
On petals and foliage of existence to this place.
Somewhere we can call ours,
Come and take
My ideal world.
Jun 25, 2010
Jun 25, 2010 at 2:16 AM UTC
A vase collects dust until there is the perfect flower,
It is more than just a vase then.
It is a life preserver, without the vase the flower would not survive.
A flower is just a flower until it finds the perfect vase.
It is more than just a flower then.
It is the meaning of life, without the flower the vase would only collect dust.
I'll hold the water you need to survive, you'll be my reason to live.
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 9:39 AM UTC
Calm and cosy
Curled up in my cotton tomb,
Transported back to the womb,
Where I dreamt endlessly.
There I smelt my life
Imminent, timid,
But ****** and vivid;
Here it is different
And deadly.
My life reeks of decay
As it burns away;
I taste the ash of my lungs,
Anaesthetised, desensitized,
Stupefied and condemned.
Scorched by conflagration,
Numbed by smoke,
But I do not choke
Just sleep
And keep on dreaming.
My cotton tomb ablaze,
A-kindle and consuming,
Collapses while still fuming,
Swallows me as I slumber
Or so I thought.
My maid she came a-wandering,
A-wondering,
And saw me here a-slumbering
In my cotton tomb of fire.
I felt her drown my death,
Extinguish Hell,
Restore my breath,
And I awoke in a fit of passion,
‘Deuce take me, what has happened?’
The timid creature,
Like newborn life,
Stood trembling, as well as I,
But told the tale
From start to end.
I implored of her
To not say a word;
The events of which have occurred
Are our secret –
Instead I enclosed her in my arms
As rapture seized me in its jaws,
Dragged me back from Death’s door
And threw me at her feet.
I praised her long
My preserver, my protection,
Then let her shivering form go
In the wake of my affection.
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 3:39 PM UTC
Raging, roiling, boiling sea,
filling every last crevice
inside of me
Washing away my last
gasps of breath,
leaving me winded
and ready for death.
I've swum for so long,
and yet not long enough;
It's not right to give up now
but these waves are getting rough.
I'm getting the hang of
letting myself sink
a bit
Just enough for the cold
to ache in my bones
And every time it rains
My skeleton cries and drones.
The depths are so much
calmer than the rage above,
All I see from here
are faint ghosts that push and shove
I
want to inhale the cold,
but the cold will smother me,
and I'll never grow old.
This all hurts, every wave
and every splash
The rushing current
to pull me under in a flash
I'm just trying to swim,
listen to the silly blue fish,
keep going, don't stop,
You can have anything you wish!
I'm just tired. Is that even allowed?
We say it's okay, but our actions
speak the ugly truth.
There's just no satisfaction.
Everyone around me is tired, too.
Is it fair to stop swimming,
and let them go on in peace?
There's another race I'm never winning.
I don't need a life preserver,
nothing is wrong, because
others around me are drowning, too.
Life simply doesn't take a pause.
This all hurts, I can't breathe,
I don't like what's inside of me
The water I've breathed
boiling and roiling and ready for tea
Leaking through organs
and soaking in my veins
My head is swimming,
and surely that sounds insane.
Must be lack of oxygen flow,
'cause I'm still sinking
Bubbles slipping from my lips
I blow and up they go
Sinking, thinking, dreaming sea
lay to rest what's inside of me,
and in your darkness, I will sleep.
Sep 24, 2023
Sep 24, 2023 at 3:36 AM UTC
I watched as a bird
(Perched upon a limb)
Fell to the water
(And drowned from inside him)
I wanted to save it
(But there was no purpose I could serve)
It sank deeper each day
(With its own mind as a life preserver)
I filled lungs when it needed to breathe
(But God needs you to get air on your own)
I wanted it to float
(i think it wanted to drown)
Wings are meant for flying in the clouds
(Not swimming in the sea)
So when you throw that empty bottle
(Please God just don't hit me)
although I'm not sure how much more pain you can cause me
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 6:18 PM UTC
In the corner collecting dust all alone
This violin has seen fame being entertaining and full blown
The violin has played Lincoln Center and Carnegie Hall
It even has seen all over the world by all
The violin even played solo behind various themes
A violin voice of melody of its own
But years of neglect into the dust years
There is no preserver
The violin’s time has come an sad end
Sits with no purpose
A violin that enthused the world
Now forgotten strings
The violin had the spotlight doing its thing
Alone now, but the violin proved without a doubt
It showed what music was all about.
May 15, 2021
May 15, 2021 at 1:14 PM UTC
You are a beacon of light shining for me, the way home.
Which is a sort of contradiction because you are my home.
And right now I am just lost at sea.
I'm almost drowning in the ocean because I naively mistook it
for the depths of your eyes.
What a foolish, lovelorn mistake;
A mistake only lovers make.
For all I know you could give me an anchor disgused as a life preserver.
I'll take it because I trust too easily and I'll be thrusted down to the bottom
where the bodies of water keep their secrets.
I'm just another thing to keep quiet about.
Another mystery when the sun's up and another mistake when it's down.
The moon has a way of showing me for who I really am.
I want to yell out **** you" to it for illuminating me but I'll swallow water.
Just like I have choked back my love for you all this time out of fear
of your silence.
A silence I am all too familiar with.
I use my last breath to say that I'll miss you.
But only the fish can hear me.
And frankly, they don't give a ****
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 8:25 PM UTC
i will cram myself into a goldfish bowl
because it's awkward inviting people to look at me if i am perfectly normal
maybe everyone will forget to feed me
and one day you'll find me belly side-up
or perhaps i will dig myself into the cheerios in my bowl
i need a life preserver
and there are several stacked up in there
maybe i will get bitten by a computer virus and morph into code that nobody can decipher
or maybe i will write a poem
and it will preserve a portion of my soul
(so that my ideas may die without such a struggle)
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 2:42 AM UTC
The Lord has smiled on your years
It was the Holy Spirit that continues to help you preserver
As God is always near
There were times you said enough is enough
But Mother *** the Lord responded, I have added more years to your life
You have earned the years well
Your every footstep of pure confidence, everyone can tell
This Birthday wish is to motivate you to carry on
The idea is to remain strong
You have given me plenty of advice
As your Nephew, I never had to think twice
Your encouragement was like the fragrance of spice
I love you Dearly Aunt Margaret
But it is your humor accompanied with your Faith that truly instills in me
Your personality is the spread of salvation
It’s not a wonder, but an indication
Happy Birthday Aunt Margaret and long may you live
Continue the inspiration and smile that you give
You live your life to strive
Yet your wisdom surpasses even the number five
You are an Aunt of no nonsense and jive
An Aunt aiming for Heaven’s glory
Enough said, as this is your Nephew’s story
That’s my Aunt Margaret, a Mother and Grandmother to some, but an Aunt who will always be number one.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 6:53 PM UTC
A man called Prince
The spiral of time
Talent with singing vibes
Instrumental with the flowing strides
Creativity all comes to mind
Purple showers in counting blessings
The remembrance in heart all will remain
Singing and dancing that took its final bow aim
It was Heavens moment that would allow
One dance and the soul strived up
The continuing pouring rain that filled the cup
Heavens name with Prince
He wasted no time and answered at once
Time with a limit
A commitment to perform
A date with Heaven
A Prince that became God’s servant
It was the applause
The extended hand
Welcome Home Prince
Now we don’t do R&B; up here
It’s praises of songs in how we preserver
We treasure your talent
Here in Heaven, no need to be silent
But we welcome you still
You are here in Heaven being God’s will
What’s in a name, but from Prince, you are under God’s name
Prince, it was you life in music in the move and soothe
The rhythm and harmony with the groove
To the world, you were a celebrity with talent to prove
Your talent captured the Lord
But it was all part of the Earthly accord.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 7:17 PM UTC