Prowriting Grade: Goals 68% Improvements 67%
It doesn’t like poems apparently,
and that is likely a good poem in itself, once written….

WHO WINS

Taking a photograph
of an empty picture frame
arranging the ponderosa pine boards
a wooded surround meant to be exactly right
around the nothing inside of it
fretting over the far off, distant speck
that could be a house or ranch
might be too much
subject matter in the photo,
everything had to be
Just Sooo…
or the addict would seek refuge
in the addiction
and the fight between the not-addicted
vs the addicted personalities
now stand eye to eye
nose to nose
the fighting almost starting
with the addicted’s steely little eyes
in a slanted head staring
into the focused non-addicted eyes
looking straight back
that is fraught
with an orange, determined compassion.

There, a cute woman
looking at me
short upturned nose
she was a part of something bigger
than herself.
She filled me, breached my stone redoubt
wanting a respite
even tho she pulled me towards her
with a silken rope
bit away from
but towards-to
hailing from me and returning
to me. We were both naked
making the intense attractions o much stronger
and dancing some primeval waltz
that energy exchange
alluring in close contact moist
nakedness bouncing, wiggling
wild hair not covering much
this intense attraction between us
to bond us,
“I am An Addiction” she says in a soft sexy, alto voice
finger slowly motioning to come hither
“I call to you to follow,
participate.”

Sometimes the addict wins
always the non-addicted is aware
of the hungry yearnings, the orgasmic attractions
each incidence is an empty frame tho
surrounding distance composed
wether, or not,
into a fretful awareness
of a grey, cloudy decision
on that perpetual blackboard,
was that another derision?
Or, just another carefully chalked mark
one two three four crossed slash-mark makes five
on the Self’s scoreboard information.
None of it a literal depiction
and nor is it a literary description
this being, the Self’s realization.

Dear Unsealers:

I start each day with something brewing. Literally.

I rip open the bag of tea and pour the hot water in my cup. As the cup steeps, the aromas reach my nose. Scents of Jasmine, Bergamot and Peppermint take hold. I open the box of tea and see so many options, with bags having a specific color assigned to them. It’s like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, right down to the black and gold embossing on the Harney and Son’s box.

But the cup of tea matters to me more than just simply having something warm in my body on wintry days.

In each cup of tea that I brew, I feel a sense of peace. I do not get started on the litany of reschedule case requests until I finish my cup of tea at my desk. Otherwise, it’s the sign to everyone that I’m taking a moment for myself.

The cup of tea, as is, is enough for me. I don’t add milk, cream or sugar to it. I don’t make it sweet, except for a drop or two of honey.

Having tea as a part of my day goes back a long way.

From my college days, when I would pop into the Starbucks around the corner from John Jay College’s campus to order a cup before class began. To my first taste of my favorite type of tea, Jasmine Green during afternoon tea at the Athenaeum Hotel in London in October 2012. At my previous job, I would go to markets and bodegas to bring in multiple boxes of tea to have a range of options over the course of the work week. This ritual lasted for my eight years of employment there.

The cup of tea has made a comeback in recent days. From spending my birthday last December being with pots of tea at the Warren Street Hotel. To the boxes of tea from Palais des Thés that my friend Umara gifted me for my birthday and Christmas gifts. The Advent Calendar had a bag of tea for every day that led up to Christmas Eve. The green and gold box added a dose of holiday spirit to my desk each morning.

I’m so grateful that I decided to re-introduce this ritual to my morning routine.

I need to find my moments of peace when I can in this hectic world that we live in. Having a cup of tea in the morning helps toward that goal.

if “happiness is a butterfly”,
you are a bumble bee.
honey suckles seep
with opportunity
to propogate potential.

the unversal gift
of the life // death // life

the ability to embody
a honeycomb

transmuting
persperation
into pollination

finding a melody
in the hymn song
of the heartbeat

solice in the comfort
of faith,
knowing that Earth Mother,
will make sure everything is okay.

Same principle as-Dear John.
You are not leaving, So-I will!
You tell me so much-untrue,
So I am divorcing and leaving you!
Not married to you, nor addictions few-
You won’t go, won’t budge, So-I will move!

Though I have no idea how,
My learns of Jesus-He makes free,
Giving me rest… And He will best teach me,
How to defeat your homemade nest of Glee.
The one you built for years on end,
A false comfort-false feeling friend…
You was/is/am not who I thought-
You’re lying surviving, dread to me brought.

You can have me no more!
No reason any longer to fear myself,
For I don’t control me anymore -Jesus does!
Under His umbrella of Grace-
I’m found and completely safe!

Fear… whence comest thou?
I know not-though we are parting ways…
No evil to fear for the rest of my days!
No lies beside me-Jesus keeps them away,
Though around the bend you may sit at Bay-
I see thee far off and turn to you deaf ear,
You seek but don’t find… Your voice I cannot hear!

No words to you I have of my own,
Because Jesus true-builds me a new home!
You cannot have my kids, you cannot have my wife-
For you are dead my old cheating friend…
Because Jesus has ended your life!

I’ve already known fear,
Now it’s time to know God-
And fear cannot win because…

2 Timothy 1:7
For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, of love, and of a sound of mind.

… This promised fact I trust and love!!!

FEAR
Fear: fast heart beats feasting feverishly
Every time fear ramps serotonin quickly,
Amply avid in avoiding pain, fastidious in
Remaining alive to tell the tale of FEAR.
FEAR

BREATHE …
Barely breathing, the brain astoundingly
Reveals its respiratory ease, by reviewing
Every fear, entering the data, waiting
Another moment for analysis, wading,
Through the morass of a lack of logic,
Hearing only haloed heartbeats, heaving.
Eternally aware of time flowing: BREATHE.
BREATHE ..

THINK …
Through and push through thinking
Halves my reasoning, homing only on survival
Instead of clarity of thought,
Never receiving the memo of
Knowing that ‘fight or flight’ is all in a knot. THINK.
THINK …

ACT …
Actively, arduously permitting action that
Covers slippery seconds of being frozen, while
Time reveals your success, failure, and your missing fervor.
ACT …

©️Malak kalmoni chehab ©️

One novel to write the wrongs
Of a society that says I don’t belong
Where a woman neither mother nor wife
Is looked down on for living an unfulfilled life,
Berated and branded a broken soul
In need of someone’s other half to make her whole

One novel to break the contract
Of a creator’s falsely progressive act
Representation dangled in a cruel game
To be yanked away, pawned for money and fame
The rallying cry of my lived reality
Silenced by the masses’ romantic mentality

One novel as an act of resistance
Of lust and romance as the root of existence
A story to leave the stereotypes upended
A forgotten identity lovingly represented
Born from the ashes of what might’ve been
That the marginalized may rise again

One novel before the year is out
One novel, and this my vow
To defend a group cast out and betrayed
To keep to my goal and never stray
Weaving a narrative authentically told
My voice never packaged and sold

This is the year.

The year I let moss grow over my feet.
The year I bathe in the clouds as they kiss the ground.
The year I stretch my fingertips to tickle sun beams.
The year I sleep in the cradle of stars as they whisper lullabies.
The year I let raindrops dance around my smile.
The year I paint over my scars with dandelion wishes.

This is the year:
The year I inhale peace and exhale you.

What are my goals for 2025?

To dig my toes into the sandswept shores of the Pacific Ocean

To feel gentle waves breaking and the cool water against my sun-tanned skin

To see sunsets with colors that can only be matched in Heaven.

To sip Cabernet in a Californian vineyard while a sommelier teaches me and my sisters about the wine we are drinking and how it was made.

To see the Golden Gate Bridge in all it’s grandeur

To explore underground caves taking in the beauty of stalactites and stalagmites

To watch seals as they lazily sunbathe as the waves crash around them

To take in the sights, sounds, colors, and culture of California.

To be carefree and in the present moment with the ones I love.

To snuggle up so close to them that I can hear each beat of their heart

To soak in every moment

To travel

To achieve these results will take sacrifice

It will require saying some “no’s,” so I can ultimately say “yes” to time with my family

Will take a re-evaluating of my spending habits

Will require learning to distinguish a “want” from a “need”

Will teach me different ways to save.

This year my goal is to be financially responsible so that I can spend the thing that is most precious

Time with my family and those I love.

Back in October of 2024, I attended a fundraiser for the safehouse that helped me through my time of great need in healing.
I was a nervous wreck, and had managed to talk myself into going after weeks of back and forth, pros and cons.
Would I fit in there?
Would I belong there?
Was I good enough to sit with the donors that had at one time changed my life for the better?
I didn’t know anyone at all. My mind raced with so many thoughts. Thanks to my daughter, I was able to go.
I had no idea, that walking through those doors, held a life changing surprise for my future.
I walked to the front and asked where my seat was. They couldn’t find my reservation and once again, I started to feel as if I was not where I belonged. They came back to the table and pointed to table 18. He handed me my information and I walked off to the table that would soon be the beginning of my dream come true. I’m not sure they want their names out there, but they are my heros. Angels in human form.
I will never forget the kindness shown to me that evening, as we sat through the horror stories and memories of a beautiful woman’s murder. She was a sister, a daughter, a mother. A wife. Taken away from this world far too early by the hands of a violent man.
The speaker was Denise Brown. Most of you may, or may not, remember her beautiful sister as Nicole Simpson- Brown. She was brutally murdered many years ago. This story, was very tragic.
I tried so hard to stay strong, to not let myself disassociate through the triggering words as they pierced my heart, and took my breath away.
They sat beside me, and just gently touched my shoulder asking if I was doing okay. I had to take a few breaks, I got up from the table and went into the bathroom to clean my face up just a bit. To breathe, and ground myself.
When the speaker was over, we all discussed a bit of my story.
At the end of the evening, I walked out with two numbers on my flyer and a possibility of a college scholarship. At first, I didn’t know if I would be hearing anything back, but the next day, I received a call from them. They decided to move forward with my scholarship!
I have never been so happy in my entire life, yet so scared at the same time. You see, second chances like this, an opportunity such as this, they don’t just happen every day.
In 2025, I have been given the gift of a college scholarship. I’m going back to school.
I’m going to start slow, and ease my way into things as I am very nervous. The paperwork was finalized this week. I’m picking out my classes on the 13th of January.
I’m not sure that I will ever be able to thank this beautiful couple for the gift that they have given to me, but I do know, that I am going to give it my everything, and keep pushing through. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING can stop me now. I am going back to school, and in the process, returning to the me that I have always known. I am smart, I am motivated, and I am going to crush this! Here’s to never giving up! Here’s to finding my way back to the me that I have always been capable of, but had been hidden. Next stop, Associates Degree. In 2025, I am celebrating second chances, and I am celebrating ME! COLLEGE HERE I COME!

Another year for the books
Many trips into the unknown
What a long journey this has been
But I didn’t go through it alone

My body is no longer my prison
But a shell that I must keep
With reconstructions here and there
It has become the home for me

I walked through a garden of roses
I walked through the streets of L.A.
Spotted “New Flowers” in cracks on the ground
They brightened even the darkest of days

Some of the flowers have withered
Dead leaves fell in their place
I’ve found new joy in bare branches
For everything has its time and place

The seasons don’t change where I live
But I change with every step as I grow
Everything is here for a moment
I welcome, I love, I let go

What will I take away from this year?
It’s hard to choose just one
Each moment was a puzzle piece
Crafted by God’s love

Open doors led to friendship
A fellowship as well
You took a plane, I took the train
And we created stories to tell

This year was a garden of memories
I’ve planted the seeds that you sent me
The kindest gesture in the form of a gift
But the greatest gift of all is your friendship

Thank you for your warm hugs
Thank you for your prayers
Thank you for all you’ve blessed me with
And always being there

THIS NOTE NOT A PART OF THE SUBMISSION… this fresh piece, written last week, was a part of a very special moment – a personal epiphany really at age 70– that “It takes courage to be Happy.” Since been written, this piece has been read in two open mics, and well received.
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WINTER SUNDAY

I am defying winter
the cold and snow abound
by bare feet in sandals

even tho there is blue sky
visible thru the trees now
the branches are bare of happy green leaves.

A definition for being stuck,
in a certain defiance, a something
where the observation of a particular reality
is denied, where in that moment
seeing ain’t necessarily believing,
in wondering about the Webb Space Telescope
possibly having revealed an alternate view of the universe
(?really?) maybe it is only supposition
based on quantum physics?

Cold toes brings me back to
white, snowy realism
while questioning the faith I have in my brain,

why did that happen?
When loving another brings the pain
of separation, that great divide.

Twin reservoirs harbor cold water,
thick ice on top too, this winter Sunday
the cold wind blows my grey hair,
shivering, even tho I don’t want to.
What I can’t see diminishes my vision.
I do see the large, lone grey boulder, locked
in lakeside ice. Moose stand ‘way over there
my ears are in perfect order
hearing them call, EER-UGH, from the opposite shore.

—The American moose has a universal call between both sexes, the EER-UGH utterance varies with more emphasis on the ERR “syllable” in the does, and more emphasis on the UGH syllable in the bucks. When this poem is read on public, I am using the buck “pronunciation.”