Monday, December 24, 2012

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
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Monday, December 17, 2012

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


Friday, December 14, 2012

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
Until the moment begins to fade
I awake
You continue to sleep

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

Monday, December 3, 2012

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
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