Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Rest Ache

The ice-stars rise to the surface of my heart and crack
Slowly, slavishly, crackling, they break and leave
Rivulets of tears in their place.
There are peeps of yellow blooms through my eyelids.
Golden-orange sun on blowing rivers of green.
This, my heartache. This, my symphony of rest.
Heartache. Rest ache.
Heart rise. Hope rise.
Chest fall. Rest falls.
Let it be, as you called forth the blossoms,
Snowy on the mat of green and grey you built.
You built. So let it be
Eyes open all way, always
Upon the open field of
Eternal Spring.
Lord, I call out and
cry out and
sigh out, to
let it be.

and Soon.

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Darkness Marching & Lullaby for Lovers

Hi, friends. Well, my poems this week are not great, but I said I would post them, so here they are!

The first one I scratched out while I was listening to The Hobbit soundtrack. You're allowed to laugh at it.

Darkness Marching

Blood-pulse steps --
Dark pocks above the parapets --
Stains upon the sky --
Here we come to die.

Okay, okay. I know. Catch your breath. This one you may also laugh at, though it's less funny. I find myself at a loss for how to write about real love. I was fine at writing saccharine verse about unrequited crushes (as I mentioned in the last post), but now that I'm married and it's twenty million times deeper than anything I've experienced before, the words don't want to flow as easily. So laugh with pity, at least.

Lullaby for Lovers

Sleep, my lord, a gentle sleep,
A silence deep where you can rest
Apart from churlish cares of day
Crouching, rock-like, on your breast

And I, beside you, heart awake
By edge of Dreamland, vigil hold
To ruin what weapons I bear -
My sins that slay with edges cold

In hopes that when the dawn peeps in
I will not further break what’s broke-
And be only a balm to you,
As worthy as my vow bespoke.

If in our sleep, love, I can kill
The things that make ring false this line -
“I love you most” - you know I will.
Until then, rest, by God’s design.

Thursday, March 19, 2015

Poetry x4

Greeting, friends!

I've always loved writing poetry, and as part of my weekly time out, I've taken up composing verse again for the good of my soul. And it has been good for me. The main difference between my poetry now versus what I wrote in middle and high school is the breadth of content - where my old work consisted mainly of maudlin love poetry, my new work embraces the freedom of topic that is necessarily a part of writing. I'll post the last four weeks of poems here for your consumption, and try to update my blog with the weekly verse from here on out.

Also - Whoever can figure out what "Two-Faced Am I" is about wins a gold star and a smiley face.



Odes to beauty are reserved for lovers.
And why must this be? For a beautiful heart
Is most bright to behold. And for beauty, I die.
The heart of my friend ‘cross a grey expanse.
Words I grasp for with eyes, but misty they are
Sans breath and sans form. And for beauty, I die.
What things life paints on the endless canvas.
Colors infinite! But the shades of my soul
Are too far to dip my brush in. And for beauty, for beauty,
I die.

Two-Faced Am I

Two-faced am I, wherefore I know well -
My true heart estranged, I shiver sickly inside
And exhale with ugly rattle, a pebble in a shell
Composing words while understanding I elide.

Devious I am - I, deviant, divisive, devise
Ways to exalt myselfishness, selflessness mime
Mud-blind with my defectiveness, let ailments arise
And call them harmless, as if ’twill buy me time.

Penitent am I, cowering ‘neath black cowl of sin -
Loving, brightening (trying) the corners of a little heart
My failing heart you can’t hear dully thumping here within,
Thereby mirroring hope I cherish, end to start.

The Writing Excuse

The curse of fatigue
Is the atrophy of art
Says wife and mother

Sonnet of Ink

Upon meandering, brimful brooks of light
And rampant tempests breaking at the seams
And hov’ring over mellow shades of night -
The mediocre, sick for morning’s beams -

Scrolls outward, line of black for beauty’s birth
And inward, gentle curve for linguist’s life
And skyward, transcendental in its worth
Into the depths of hell for dormant strife

Some souls it scratches out with patient nod
And some it outlines, present but unknown
And some it grabs with passion of a bawd
To claim the lusty fare for it alone

The latter one am I, ne’er to be free
Perhaps you saw ink-colored blood in me?

Thursday, February 12, 2015

I Hate Goodbyes.

Rather amusingly, the last time I posted here was right after recovering from a lovely family-wide stomach bug...and guess what. I just recovered from another one. I know, I know - exciting details of life.

Hi! How are you, reader? How am I, you ask? Well...I don't know. Good...I guess?

I say "I guess," because this whole period of life, while not fraught with any tangible chaos, is an emotional chaos of a major s t r e t c h i n g time. Like, a bend-over-backward crazy-yoga-pose-level stretching time. Parenting - nay, life - is not for the faint of heart, and so often my heart wants to indulge faintness. I am brought back to my feet by the Lord, my supportive husband, and the people at church who are like family to me, but the perpetuity of the process is way tiring. 

I'm just a little dramatic and lugubrious right now because something just hit me: I'm halfway across the country from one of my best friends, and now my other best friend, who currently lives right across the street from me, is moving halfway across the country in three weeks. My immediate family is in the same dreaded state to which this friend is moving; my beloved in-laws are even further away than that. So as the reality of this friend's move hits, I find myself feeling rather alone. 

I'm not good at saying goodbye. It takes me - it takes everyone? - a long time to form deep relationships in which I fully trust the other person involved. Somewhere in adolescence, I taught myself that most people can be trusted up to a certain point, but after that point, no one can be trusted. To build a friendship in which I can bare my soul to the other person without fear of some selfish motive prompting negative repercussions...that is a ruby-rare, pearl-priceless thing.

Kids are really good at making friends! Sometimes they even dress to match!

I have much growing to do in the area of trust - I know I do. Being easily endeared to people in general is not the same thing as trusting them. So if you think of me, pray for me during this time, and pray for my friend and her family in the midst of this move. And if you're a friend of mine, please be patient with me as I learn to trust you more. The good thing about having a few people I fully, genuinely trust is that I know I am capable of fully and genuinely trusting without the world imploding. So, as I grow in godliness and maturity by the work of the Holy Spirit, I will hopefully risk deeper hurt in order to gain a chance for deeper fellowship, deeper joy, and deeper love. Until then, do bear with me.

What about you? What are some things that help you cope with missing loved ones? Shoot me a comment, message or email and give a girl some tips.

Until next time, dear reader.