"Accolades For Valor" by Matthew Johnson (1993): "She goes through life, gliding, a benevolent seer/ Stopping constantly to aid those in need, those not even dear/ I, an individual, swept up in the storm/ Of a woman, who, in search of herself, defies the norm/ As I, an outcast, fighting myself, yet daring to believe/ That if I ask her aid and succor (and possibly love) she won’t leave/ Giving her heart, mind and soul to every known cause/ Causing me to look about my selfish malestrom, and in introspection give pause/ For all her words, she won’t write about me, does she fail to perceive/ What the object knows to be true and what make believe—/ Words rarely present, presence much more of one/ Is to wish for more as good as wishing for the sun?/ Energy is precious, as I know well to be true/ And I am curious to know, Lorraine, what I can ask of you/ Names are important, they make us who we are/ Much more important than people give credit, by far/ The masses may cry “Lori!” and let them do so!/ For the numbers who call that cannot understand/ They will never know the Lorraine inside, the one crying to live/ Will be forever frustrated by those whose minds are like a sieve/ There may be those who rob her of her world, let them scratch the skin/ They are as pinpricks to the steel within/ These accolades are not exaggeration, not pretentious/ I Just want you to know that there is at least one who is conscious/ That the world is a better place for the life of a woman named Lorraine."

Monday, October 28, 1991

Floral Wonder

I hold in my hand a fresh-picked rose.
It's more special because it's one I chose.
From tip to tip, it's one-of-a-kind.
It's unique; it's beautiful; it's divine.

The petals are fragile; very delicate.
The pattern is softly intricate.
Each leaf adds to its value on Earth.
'Tis the genuinity that makes it of worth.

In a basket, upon a table of lumber,
lies a rose with a pattened number.
Its silkspun petals appear quite real.
It has quite a luxurious feel.

It's not brittle. It stands up well.
Its beauty is more than words can tell.
Its long stem adds to its perfection.
The absent aroma helped make the connection:

Why is it my desires are so
I want the one that looks as though
it's the most perfect under the sun
when I hold in my hand the most precious one?

October 28, 1991