I was no one special, just an ordinary fellow. I lived alone in a studio apartment on Maine Avenue here in Washington, D.C. I took a taxicab to work every day. I worked at the Department of the Treasury Bureau of Engraving and Printing in Washington, D.C. I made money, the paper kind. I worked… Continue reading The Money Man
The following poem, which I am not good at creating, is created by a real-life conversation I had with my husband, while I was soaking my hip and ankle. The question I ask about the cats, I did ask him, and those are his responses. A Conversation with the Husband By: Tracie L. Hicks Fire… Continue reading The Fire Ant and The Snake
The following poem was written when I was in my twenties; I am now 44 years old. Dear, Lord Jesus Christ. God bless every single living creature on this planet and others. May everybody’s hopes and dreams come true. Let there no more evil in this world. Let everyone be created as one, And let… Continue reading A LETTER TO JESUS CHRIST
If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord, my Soul, to take. But before you do, make sure I’m dead. Then burn me up and spread my ashes all over this land. —Tracie L. Hicks.