At The River, from the poetry cd “Moody”

“She received the fruit of the rain at the beginning of God’s mouth
and rubbed her belly for a sense of serendipity
you can’t tell me she ain’t fierce the way she always
embarrass you with the truth.”

“Women of warrior blood
a ritual of stares for superiority
and one word never needs to be spoken

It’s in her eyes
that reflect a promised lake of fire
to toss her divided soul
that pulls at her like a chariot with two head strong horses.”

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At The River, from the poetry cd “Moody”

“She received the fruit of the rain at the beginning of God’s mouth
and rubbed her belly for a sense of serendipity
you can’t tell me she ain’t fierce the way she always
embarrass you with the truth.”

“Women of warrior blood
a ritual of stares for superiority
and one word never needs to be spoken

It’s in her eyes
that reflect a promised lake of fire
to toss her divided soul
that pulls at her like a chariot with two head strong horses.”