All praise to the ceiling that keeps the roof
from leaking directly on my good mood
the memory of saying lauds before
the sun peeks through the blinds or rain down pours.

To exercise that makes me fit all praise
and water afterwards that cleanses waste
the clock that tells exactly when to eat
so cure would not to take effect forget.

All praise to radio’s curtailed excess
that tv flaunts in color’s moving mess
to choice between electric breeze and air
or gadgets and the presence of a stair.

To literary pieces that proclaim
man’s loyalty to Him and kith and kin
the moral fiber of the universe
to strengthen and renew itself all praise.

The evolution of each day and night
all praise is given to so that it might
extend another cycle of the joy
the earth suffuses every man and boy.

So that the thought remembers vespers too
a mental health all praise is given to
to keep the liberties of living life
at bay when other freedoms are in strife.

That terminal applies to good and bad
and nothing lasts too long to make it sad
all praise to those whose dreams and wishes keep
the world a peaceful place for seamless sleep.

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avatar About Abraham de la Torre

I'm married to a lovely, loving woman who blessed me with two wonderful sons. Poetry is my passion, even if it's on a mood level. Like, I'm a geyser one moment and drained the next. Each outpouring, however, is a personal testament to truth, a poem being empty were it phony. I got the genes from my Dad, who passed away, in 2003, at 77. He was my most avid audience. There are other inspiring sources but Dad was the darnedest. Instead of miss him, I fill the void with verses.

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