Do you know that
I am worthy.
I am valuable.
I am protected.
I am safe.
I failed in order to succeed.
I made mistakes so I know right from wrong.
I was rejected because we all have freedom of choice.
I don’t think I can ever be perfect.
I am created in the image of God.
God is perfect.
In God, I am perfect.
Middle aged belly fat
fills me with confusion
and contradiction
I take simple joy in
how my mug of coffee
rests on the roll of firm jelly
while
grieving over
my youthful shapely body
no more
I guess
you can always
learn to live with
the compromise
between comfort
and sex appeal
our extraordinary relationship
lies in our ordinary life
the most mundane tasks
in everyday life
are the source of our happiness
the surrounding
and simple things matter
we see the blessings of
the sun, the moon, the stars
the grocery shopping, the cooking, the bathing
live each day as our last
and cherish each other like our first kiss
The window blinds swayed gently in the morning sun
just enough flutter and light to stir you from sleep
I glanced over to you, a honey brown eyed cheetah
stretched idly over the plain silk sheet
I quietly grabbed my sketch pad and charcoals
transformed your sinewy body in ardent strokes
Each dense defined muscle
every elegant elongated curvature
lucidly presented before my satisfied eyes
I blew a butterfly kiss
and you rose and came alive
they said
he once was a musician
he played his guitar
and wrote songs
love songs to be precise
I saw him roam around the park
smoke cigarettes
stare at the sky and hum
in faded ripped jeans
bare feet
knotted mousy hair
he was polite and kept to himself
never asked for money or food
I wondered what happened to him
one day
I finally went up to ask him
he told me
he once was a musician
played his guitar
and wrote songs
soggy love songs to be precise
nowadays
he still loved music
and creating songs
sad love songs to be precise
he just couldn’t make sounds again
with broken heart strings

house chores can wait
cooking can wait too
let’s all curl up in bed
on such a rainy day
put on jazz
or a piano concerto
let the world fade away
snooze till daybreak
The Living Poetry prompt – Outrage
outrage are the worker bees
sweet honey they bleed to feed the upper chains
while their hives crumble
they are bees by nature
they work to the ground
they are greedy beasts by nature
they kill for food