PAD Challenge Day 27: Write an an anapodoton poem. Cake and Eat It Too Life is not always berry sweet full of confetti, rainbows and butteflies in our circle of life. It can sprinkle unfortunate surprises. We can receive lemons after lemons in a dark black forest of medley roses, even when our hearts are red velvet. Anywhere there's an Angel, a Devil will try to cake up; Get rich off your Godly confections. Kind of ice cold to say, Vanilla and Chocolate will never always have a fair share of what rises and pans out. The entanglement of the swirl is just as incompatible and conflicting. No matter the number of layers, some will be handed corners, others more centers of it all. No matter how small, medium or large; Short or tall; Buttercream is not always creme de la creme to us all. But we must keep a glaze on God's miracle whips. Keep whisking the ingredients of prayer and supplication to bake our special purposes on Earth. D'ElegantOne
Toodles to 2022: What to Leave or Not to Leave As we approach the deadline of an existing year, we always hear, see it shared and shared again amongst the feed of our social media accounts or we may even wonder ourselves, “What are we leaving behind?”. So, I questioned myself, “What am I leaving behind in 2022?”. Hmm. With no scientific hypothesis or elongated deliberation, I’d say nothing and no one —only the 365 days and 8,760 hours that are impossible for me to relive. I have my heart and mind, beautiful storage of collective memories, to recap the little pain and disappointments underneath over-weighted joy that the best of this life can bring. I have 1,901 Google photos, 230 videos and 8 new contacts to tell me the new and old places I’ve been, the new and old people I’ve seen and all the new things I’ve done. Countless invitations and a list of no’s, disregards and yes’s to jog my memory about my purpose and principles here on earth. Deep down inside, I wanted to add my
PAD Challenge Day 25: Write a dream and/or reality poem. The American Dream Oops! My bad! I know you pictured a white picket fence around a single unit of square feet with three to four bedrooms, two to three bathrooms, with a garage too small of a container to contain equality, justice, and liberty for all. I know a set of four paws seems to have more human rights than the footprints of your babies running through wildflowers in pink and blue. I know the Whites have more yellow in their smiles and all your eyes witnessed on this soil is a Trail of Tears and the blackest Blues , though you have flesh that can split open to bleed Red like them. Sorry! I know you keep thinking you’re seeing stars; wishing, hoping, and dreaming that your stripes won’t look like the ones our ancestors inherited on their backs in the cotton fields or behind the Magnolia tree in the mills, but they got a chokehold on necks still and gasoline to gaslight your minds. I
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