Patricia Kelley Poems

We have some Golden Rules for our marriage.
We always put God First.
Our mate second,
Our children third,
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Holy Spirit walked the earth as a Holy Priest.
Omnipotence,
Omnipresence,
Omniscience,
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David as king faces weakness.
Seeing Bathsheba a married woman bathing, he pursues her.
Having a sleekness,
Forgetting his boyish meekness,
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Jesus took all the sins of the world and nailed them to the cross.
Disarming all power and authorities,
This was his top priority.
To get rid of all impurity,
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Heaven sent you on the clouds of fire,
You were born to save the earth.
My sin, since my birth,
You cleanse me.
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Just thinking about sweet momma,
Can return; my heart back to home again.
Thinking about how good she could make canned biscuits.
Making her milk gravy; pouring them over hot biscuits.
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She has a violent silent rage for her age.
They say it's because of the life she lived before coming to our home.
She damages the chrome.
Sneakily moving about,
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Up in this tree,
I feel so free.
It’s a place where I can breathe.
I’m like a honey bee smelling sweet nectar from an Oklahoma Mimosa Tree.
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She walks in darkness like an alert eagle, with light feet sent to the darkest corners of the earth.
Born in America in which her mother gave birth.
Her weapon tightly gripped in her hand, with her finger on the trigger.
She's an American girl.
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I just want to get on my knees and kneel down beside you, and wash your feet with my tears, and dry them with my long golden blonde hair.

I don't need any water; I can wash each foot with my stream of tears streaming down from my soft green eyes.
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