waiting
toe-tapping
eye-rolling
shoulder-shrugging
people-watching
standing
step-by-stepping
walking
boarding
glancing
searching
stowing
sitting
buckling
whooshing
taxiing
roaring
climbing
rocking
rolling
shaking
dropping
hoping
praying
armrest-gripping
soaring
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Sunday, May 1, 2011
For Kaitlin
I wrote this poem for my friend Kaitlin, but I haven't been able to give it to her. I know she probably doesn't have internet access, but Kaitlin, if you do happen to find this, this one is for you.
Peace seeks out the humble soul
That, troubled, looks within
For fault, lurking, fading the strength
That once so fearless faced sin.
Joy distills but quietly
Like angels' whispered tones
To those who bear the pain to change
For His will, not their own.
Love extends to one and all
Who extend both hand and heart
To brothers and sisters who struggle yet
To accept His brand-new start.
Christ Jesus gives us all we need
Through His eternal grace,
Strength over sin, joy over pain,
Courage even with tear-stained face.
Love will out, Christ will win,
And we will see His face.
Peace seeks out the humble soul
That, troubled, looks within
For fault, lurking, fading the strength
That once so fearless faced sin.
Joy distills but quietly
Like angels' whispered tones
To those who bear the pain to change
For His will, not their own.
Love extends to one and all
Who extend both hand and heart
To brothers and sisters who struggle yet
To accept His brand-new start.
Christ Jesus gives us all we need
Through His eternal grace,
Strength over sin, joy over pain,
Courage even with tear-stained face.
Love will out, Christ will win,
And we will see His face.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Lost in the Present
A pounding, beating, crying, screaming insistence. Now. Now. Now. There's something now now now. I can see it now, hear it now, do it now now now! If only I knew it.
An enchanted forest springs up only to be beaten down by a deafening drum roll which gives way to a searing pain. Turmoil ensues as incompatible passions struggle to be felt, seen, heard. Underneath it all, steady as the pulsing heart, beats now now now, I need it now.
I will not wait to be heard when I'm good and loud. I will not wait to be seen when I'm good and tall. I will not wait to be felt when I'm good and strong, I will do it now! My thoughts deafen me now, my feelings pound to powder now, I am too strong in me now, I drown in me me me now now now!
I will be heard so I can hear others, I will cry now so I can see others now, I will embrace my brother now so he can embrace me in his time of need. Now, Now, Now, I will do something Now.
An enchanted forest springs up only to be beaten down by a deafening drum roll which gives way to a searing pain. Turmoil ensues as incompatible passions struggle to be felt, seen, heard. Underneath it all, steady as the pulsing heart, beats now now now, I need it now.
I will not wait to be heard when I'm good and loud. I will not wait to be seen when I'm good and tall. I will not wait to be felt when I'm good and strong, I will do it now! My thoughts deafen me now, my feelings pound to powder now, I am too strong in me now, I drown in me me me now now now!
I will be heard so I can hear others, I will cry now so I can see others now, I will embrace my brother now so he can embrace me in his time of need. Now, Now, Now, I will do something Now.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
To Write a World
Fairies. Unicorns. Wizards. Werewolves. Time-travel. Whole new worlds.
The lure, the mysterious promise of glory and adventure. The beckons of importance. To write new worlds. O what potential bliss! Worlds without number...
It seems like absolute freedom, absolute power. Yet even those uncreated worlds are bound by my bounded mind. Subject to universal laws, built with mere human energy.
But creation, any creation, is no small thing. To grant tangible space and material to something that lay dormant in the intangible depths within the electrical impulses of thought. It's a miracle. To make matter of creative energy, a divine fusion, requires immense power, with magnitude unfathomable. Is such power in the quiet whispers from my soul? No. Then where, where!, where does it come from? And is the creation still mine?
The lure, the mysterious promise of glory and adventure. The beckons of importance. To write new worlds. O what potential bliss! Worlds without number...
It seems like absolute freedom, absolute power. Yet even those uncreated worlds are bound by my bounded mind. Subject to universal laws, built with mere human energy.
But creation, any creation, is no small thing. To grant tangible space and material to something that lay dormant in the intangible depths within the electrical impulses of thought. It's a miracle. To make matter of creative energy, a divine fusion, requires immense power, with magnitude unfathomable. Is such power in the quiet whispers from my soul? No. Then where, where!, where does it come from? And is the creation still mine?
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