Poem: The Perfect Gift

The Perfect Gift

By: Joi Maree Flowers

Keep your coins in your pockets
For its cost is free
Keep off of it your decorated paper and bow
For a beautiful wrapping it does not need

It's size is small enough to fit in your heart
And large enough that it can be shared
The only instruction there is
Is to please handle it with care

Worry not if it will be liked
Worry not if your choice of it was right

For to those whom it is given

They will surely not decline

It's the perfect gift to give
And the perfect gift to receive
Not just on one day

But everyday that is given to be

It's the gift of LOVE
A gift that never gets too old to pass along

 

Photo couterst of www.bluebroccoli.wordpress.com
 

 

Poem: Foreign Waters

Foreign Waters

By: Joi Maree Flowers


Far and abroad
I travel the path of an unknown journey

Walking on landscaped fields
Climbing over rocky mountains
Flying through bluest skies
Sailing across foreign waters

 

Greeted by the faces of many colors
Filled with the foods of ethnic cultures
Washed in the waters of forgotten seas
Clothed in the garments worn in times long before the birth of me

 

The world is my map

And I, its explorer

 

Poem: Sweet Angel of Mine

Sweet Angel of Mine

 By: Joi Maree Flowers

Night falls
And my eyes close to sleep
It is there in a dream
That again we meet
That I see your eyes
Your smile
Your presence
A moment to cherish
At a time sporadic
Before dawn to perish

Greeting with hugs
And kissed cheeks
And singing songs from your book of Hymns
That was passed down to me
"Amazing grace,
How sweet the sound..."
How sweet the sound of your voice
To hear when you come around
In the space of our special place
Which only our presence grace
Where hours of time are spent
Together
Until the moment begins to fade
Then
I awake
But
You continue to sleep

Under a green field
Surrounded by
Bloomed flowers
Shaded trees
And your love
My Grandfather

Poem: Behold Beauty

Behold Beauty

 

By: Joi Maree Flowers

 

I may not stand out in the crowd

I may not ever become the pageant Queen who wears the crown

I may not be the prototype of every man’s sweet dreams

Nor of that do I mind

 

For what his eyes see of me

Is the purest of all beauty

 

 

Photo courtesy of: dotheknowledge.com

 

Poem: Say Thank You

Say Thank You
By: Joi Maree Flowers


For the life we were given
For the days we have seen
For the moments that are now
And the tomorrows that will be

For the family that is
And the friends that are
For the bond that holds us close together
Whether near or far

For the place we can call home
For the daily nourishment of our bodies and souls
For the comfort in knowing
In this world, we have somewhere to go

For the forgiveness of our past
Allowing for a renewed us to be born
Though not what or where we want to be
We are far from where we were before

For the love that loves
And keeps on loving more and more

Poem: I Call You Friend

I Call You Friend

By: Joi Maree Flowers

They that know I smile
To sometimes hide my tears;
Who take my hand to hold
And tell me to not fear…


They that love me
Despite my flaws;
Who stand not over me and laugh
But pick me up when I fall…


They that become my strength
When I am weak;

Short Story: In Her Shoes

    In Her Shoes

     by: Joi Maree Flowers

    As far back as I can remember, as a little girl, beginning around the age of two, my small sized feet would often find their way into my Mama's shoes; shoes that of course could not fit me at the time. Whether they were flats, sneakers, flip flops, or high heels, I put on every shoe she had. Those high heels of hers were my absolute favorite because when I would put them on, they would make me feel like I was being just like her when I stood tall in them.

Joi Maree Flowers

    And though I loved her high heels, wearing them was always challenging. I could only stand in them for a minute before my balance gave up on me, leading me to collapse; and every time when I tried to walk in them, I would take about two steps and without fail, tumble to the ground. Mama would laugh and while picking me up would say,"Don't worry baby. You'll be able to walk in them one day." I asked "When?" and she just replied, "One day baby, one day."

    I thought that "one day" would be when I grew up to be an adult like she; but I would later find out in my adult life that walking in her shoes would take on a whole other meaning than that of the literal. Mama's shoes were more than just shoes; their worn wear told the story of the journey that she walked in them.

    It began with the mornings which were always early. Starting around 5 am with prayer, meditation, showering, ironing clothes, getting dressed, then making breakfast; all done before I was awakened. Then she would prepare me for the day once she got me up. After dropping me off at school, she would make her way to a job that she did not enjoy going to. This I knew because she often expressed her dislike of it. However, she endured so we as a family would not go without.
   
    The evenings were always better. School was over and work was done, well her 9 to 5 at least. We would go home and have "our time". She would cook and let me assist her with preparing our meal,