Monica is her name
She was mould in modesty
Meek to her motherland..
More matured than nature
Monica motile with sensation..
Mood to the moon
With money inherited
Majestic and colorful
Mystical in her morality
Merrymake and smart
Model status
Melodious voice
Mild-mannered..
Committal...
Murderous monday morning
Monica mood turn muddy
Messy and mournful
Motherhood engulfed
For she was molested,
rape, deflowered, cheated
and battered..
Lost!
Wicked world
Life's unfair
Hatred to humanity
Marital gift snatched
Pregnant to unknown
Monica mourn..
Fragile
Handle with Care --
Now heading to the Moon
May well explode if not there Soon
Ghostly, unearthly Tune --
Say a Prayer
Motile
laying supine in the miasma of my own abominable waste
my exposed spoor and stench,now, others can taste
sweat, grime and shame encrust my mottled skin
food and drink love to lurk in the wrinkly folds under my chin
my hands tremble,like shaken by an earthquake
can't even hold a brush to comb my hair straight
unable to move, a prisoner, chained to my own bed in hell
I try to draw motile attention by ringing a clamorous bell
sleep evades me; I lay awake and thirsty all night
waiting for a sip of water sometimes until daylight
some evenings, I pine to see the vermilion sunset
hope someone is free to push the wheelchair on my request
my flesh has dissolved but there is weight in my bone
they never say but I must feel like a sac of stone
my family, they love me I know but they are busy
nurturing a grown up child for long can never be easy
I won’t complain but if life comes to this day
Lord, my God—please gently lift me away
Written on 06/24/2016
With the will of a princess warrior
her bum was like an old cheese.
She had biceps made for duty,
although not enough to please.
A beauty with an appetite.
An Amazon storming Queen.
Her thighs small mighty pillars
with shins held fast between.
This spirit motile girl.
A woman wise in youth.
Her rapture tamed in tolerance.
Maturing as is couth.
With dreams of sharing knowledge
and hopes of bringing peace.
This one to call a child;
too innocent to cease.
In many ways a soldier.
Though none would she prefer.
A toddler in her dreaming,
where aging soul would stir.
Soon coming in her glory.
When all will see her thrive.
This child of God made worthy
that God should see her drive.
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