An Ordinary Tuesday
An ordinary Tuesday
Alarm clocks wake sleepy heads
Breakfasts eaten in a hurry
People rushing to get to work
Traffic jams, buses running late
Flights to catch, flights delayed
Children entering their classrooms
Teachers ready to face another day
Moms having another cup of coffee
Errands to be run, meals to be planned
Lunch dates to be arranged
Just an ordinary Tuesday
The sun in a cloudless blue sky
A hint of autumn in the air
Trees thinking about shedding their leaves
Birds on their migratory journeys
Squirrls and chipmunks scampering
To find the first acorns
Just an ordinary Tuesday
Firemen,EMTS, policemen
Doctors, nurses, and ordinary people
go about their day
A President listens to second graders
reading their favorite books
Just an ordinary Tuesday
until the world changed
Evil roared to life
on that ordinary Tuesday
Stealing lives,stealing calm
Stealing the peace we all knew
But on that ordinary Tuesday
As the world shed its tears
Our country came together
And pledged to never forget
That ordinary Tuesday morning
When the world changed
Twenty-five years have passed,
yet the memory still remains,
a morning filled with sorrow,
a nation washed in pain.
The towers reached toward heaven,
then disappeared from sight,
leaving behind a silence
that still echoes every night.
We remember those who never
made it home that day,
the mothers, fathers, sons and daughters
who were taken far away.
We remember every hero
who ran toward the flame,
while others ran for safety,
they answered when we called their name.
The firefighters and the officers,
the strangers helping strangers too,
the countless acts of courage
from red, white, and blue.
We remember those in heaven,
and the families left behind,
the empty chairs, the photographs,
the memories frozen in time.
Though years may pass before us,
their stories will not fade.
For every life that was taken,
a promise must be made:
To remember their names,
to honor what they gave,
to cherish those beside us,
and never forget the brave.
So today we bow our heads,
with hearts both proud and torn,
and whisper through the years:
We remember.
We honor.
We will never forget.
A poem by Frank Daub
I’m for stopping; Brendan’s not.
The sea is just down there.
I am anxious for the sight
of stone turned to bread by the wash
of foam and the jetting of the salt water.
I’m for stopping; Brendan’s not.
The spiraling gulls
are sun lighted bright in their play
above the sand,
their startling dive
toward the sea is brief
in time and sight.
I’m for stopping; Brendan’s not.
The freedom of the coast
was eight hundred years
at taking.
One bold county man’s toast
to the awakening water
baptizes the youth
who have forgotten Eire for other lovers.
I’m for stopping; Brendan’s not.
I haven’t heard the all
of every song
or the rise and fall
and rise of every story
that set a mother’s son
free to calculate a career.
I stand for stopping; Brendan says, “too late.”
I want to stay
where the past has gone,
old rebel cries and songs.
Yet,
it’s Brendan through the gate,
and gone
and done
and through with old.
Years roll on,
Independence Day returns,
A flag unfurls, and memory burns.
From Delhi’s skies to New York’s cheer,
India’s spirit echoes clear.
Tea is poured in distant lands,
Cultures meet with gentle hands.
A sip in New York, 2026,
Global voices in harmony mix.
Work once rooted in India’s ground,
Reaches to height when values found.
In U.S. halls, the lens is true.
Massive seas, wide roads that bend,
Streets and bridges without end.
Civil marvels, steel and stone,
Give weary eyes a resting tone.
And through it all, a soul will see,
The journey’s more than geography.
Each step, each day, each fleeting view,
Is history lived, becoming new.
21 Aug 2026
Rashmi Pawar, India
Her kind named her weak, a flaw—night.
Disposable, bone-thin, unblessed—night.
Fate left her cracked on hostile stone,
under an alien, starving sky—night.
No bright warriors came, no oath, no tone;
only a human, half-dead, drawn—night.
He lifted her onto his back,
and would not set her down—night.
They crossed poison deserts, copper-dry;
lungs burning on each stolen breath—night.
Fire-storms tore their borrowed shelter,
ash kissing lips like quiet death—night.
They threaded empire-ruins, iron-mouthed,
where old crowns rusted into blight—night.
Survival hardened into trust,
a gentle chain in gritted fight—night.
Loyalty grew fanged; mercy grew wings;
their shadows braided tight—night.
Maybe love, dangerous and clean,
took root in scars, in shared fright—night.
Then the twist: he was her rescue.
She was his sentence, his light—night.
I remember,
Lestweforget,
And the phrase:
Between the wars,
Said during:
Times of peace.
He died on the field, to live in the heart,
Lifted are nations by heroes that fall;
Never we’ll know on which ground he took part;
But then, the truth is, he died on them all.
He held, on that day, “No evil shall pass!
No, not today, though I die at my post!”
Courage is not just a word by the crass,
But rises with flames, when duty calls most.
What shall we think of a life cut so short?
There once died a rose, that others might bloom;
What shall that death to the living report?
There once rose a call, that lives past the Tomb:
To face every danger, never to lag,
And to embody what’s meant by the flag.
On those dark quiet nights,
I hear the voices that keep me up,
As I remember that day so long ago.
The promise we kept,
That we would never forget.
I look to the skies,
Searching for our star,
Our star that only belongs to us.
We made a pact, a promise,
On that night to remember,
Those who never returned.
I remember as we held them,
We told them your going home.
We promised we would never leave them.
We would bring them home.
I hear the soft footsteps,
Behind me on the beach,
I turn as my tears fall,
Expecting to see the final six,
But I see our whole company.
We see the star shining brighter,
Than it ever has.
We sit on the beach telling stories,
Of our fallen comrades and,
Those days of yesteryear.
The families walk up, hugging us,
With love and appreciation.
We toast our brothers and sisters,
Families and friends,
As we laugh and cry,
We will always remember,
Them dearly on ,
This day of remembrance.
When I ask my Creator to lead me along paths of light, I find that great difference where loneliness tried to keep me on its side, and thanks to His grace, He guided me to places where the hallmark is belief and happiness in abundance. It is remembered that some friends were going to see the princesses of the place, and one day I accompanied them, finding that light in the most beautiful gaze that has ever come into my life, giving way for my heart to hasten and thus not let you go from my side, forming such a blessed couple that when we go to prisons and dark places, the light of our Creator always takes effect in new hearts. Happy holy days!!!!!!
Lraularguellesmtz!!!!!!
I love you so much Jesus
Love you so much
So much
Thank you Jesus so Much
So much thank you Jesus
I love you so Much Jesus
You make me so happy
You Jesus make me so happy
You're one of my very best friends
yes I love You so Much Jesus
hey Jesus thanks so much'
I love you so much
Hey Jesus did you know I love you so much
did you know I love you so much my best friend
thank you for creating Kami she is my best friend too
and for making Jamil he is my best friend too
I love my best friends this world is filled with my best friends
even the person who is reading this they are wonderful thank you Lord for making them too
Love this world you made Lord Yeshua
Thank you for my best friends all humanity is great cause they are yours Jesus
The sounds of boots on the sands
Soles imprinted deep into posterity
Steady matching under the soft glow of hope
The gallant steps of the mighty men
I saw the weights tied around their waist
The stench of cold, ghastly death
The ears bleeding from the wails of the forgotten
The forgotten. Soles imprinted in the sands.
I looked again and I saw the eager
Soaring farther into the forlorn sky
I smiled as more men pass by
The mark of hope on their forehead.
We Are an Anomaly
Where to begin?
From the beginning, I suppose.
Mom had a cesarian (not really) but was asleep
When I was born.
My birth certificate says I have three older siblings
when I only know of two.
So, where’s my other sibling?
Mom swears I only have two.
Perhaps, my family ancestry is alien in nature.
My brother being a giant and me sister, a genius
And then there’s me . . .
Born with 6 toes on each foot
And Bi-fid thumbs but the right one only had a bone
protruding from the first joint.
I believe I was a Siamese twin connected at the thumbs.
We more than likely were separated way before childbirth
But who really knows. Probably the nurse who filled out my birth certificate.
I survived because I was closest to the placenta.
Anywho, I’ve always felt a presence with me
Or perhaps we switch places from time to time.
Or maybe, we’re both in here, sharing life together.
Sharing dreams.
---- Sorely the remains of " Paul Perkins"
...is not beneath nothing it's not his true self that resides below. But is his remains flesh, bone, skeletor and teeth. His choose essence is within Spirit as a soul goes back to God. The breath God gave him. And the family he left behind that is how we now can see him
PAUL PERKINS
Grandfather
Brother Uncle Husband
11/25/25
Written by James Edward Lee Sr 2025
If I could travel back in time,
I’d go back twenty years ago
When my life was still in its prime
And I could still speak to my bro.
My brother died at twenty-six--
Too young to be deprived of breath;
I knew no charms nor any tricks
Could wrest him from the hands of Death.
We were like strangers in our house,
He and I when he was alive;
Hate like that between cat and mouse
Seemed in his heart and mine to thrive.
So every day just passed us by
With nary a word betwixt us.
No “How are you,” no simple “Hi,”
We never made time to discuss.
So if I could go back in time,
I’d go to when he still had life:
I’d laugh with him o’er gin and lime,
And we’d share things both old and rife.
November 18, 2025
Today is Veterans Day
or has America forgotten
once again
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