Posts Tagged With: poem


All the lies I let myself believe, will they someday haunt me, be whispered in my sleep? Tell me true, for there is there is value in honesty. I realize that I shoot myself in the foot with the same regularity as I eat, and I’m not foolish enough to believe that that’s mostly for the cause of enabling others, though it is occasionally.

I’m more selfish than I want to be; sometimes it’s hard to believe there is yet goodness in me. Once I had convinced myself I was artsy, but now I know that I’m just angsty… the drama queen I always strove not to be. Are we ever who we want, in reality?

Fame is fleeting, as is beauty. I’ve been lucky enough not to be granted either in excess. Nor do I have great knowledge, though I once thought I liked philosophy  Philosophists’ agonizing over-analyzing killed that theory. Yet, even in these words I seek to be more known. In everything I am the antithesis of all I hoped to be. I show, in all things, too much of my humanity, which I’m told is tacky…but I always admired vulnerability.

There are moments I wish I could freeze, but really nothing is all that we remember it to be. In conclusion, I’ll refrain from over-speculation on where I see myself, let alone our nation in any span of time: a month, a year… Though, through ash colored glasses, I see myself not much closer to my destination, yet closer to death. Make what you will of that prediction. Kind salutations to you on your trek, whose path crossed with mine on this occasion. Fare thee well.

Categories: Poems | Tags: , , , , , | 1 Comment

Poems: Experiential & Elaboration

Camp was good. Life has been busy since then so I’m behind. Maybe eventually there’ll be a post here about camp, but maybe not. I make no promises. Anyhow, for now, here are two poems that I had written before camp, but hadn’t had a chance to put up. The first is based on experience, the second is an elaboration on this Pinterest quote about an oxymoron we moronic humans often live.

I miss you every day,
Both in ways I know and can’t explain.
Remember when you said
I’d forget,
No one cared,
That the world would be better off without you here?
You were wrong.
You took your life (relatively) long
And I know
That my grieving will never end.
The world’s a darker place without you, and
I know reliving choices…regret,
I know regret won’t help me get
Bet whether
You’re in Haven or Hell,
That’s at least partly my responsibility
I can’t help feeling your choice was affected by disability.
It’d be fine
If we could switch eternal destinations,

Your past versus mine…
But, much to my frustration,
Things don’t work that way.
Everyone pays for his deeds.
God, please,
Did you help him see at the last instant?
I can’t
Handle life with a smile as I used to.
People ask if I’m ok. Do
I need someone to talk to?
But talking doesn’t help me get over you.
I hate depression like some people hate cancer.
As with that there is no answer,
No cure.
I watch depression’s vicious cycle take more
Into its grip.
I watch as they slip
Beyond where I can reach,
And I die a little more each
Not all truths rhyme:

I’m beginning to think there’s nothing I could change even if I could rewind.

So I’ll drink another draught from the cup of sorrow,
Sleep, awake, and face tomorrow.


And she wished upon a dream
That her secrets would be seen
For what they were by some wild, keen

And that he would excavate her soul
Unearthing pieces, sketching a whole
Portrait of her true person
He heart in the nude, un-shrouded from role

And in her fervent prayers and fears
She hoped his heart would ever steer
Closer to the truth of her feral, rearing self.

That someone be less afraid of
Her ugliness than she.
That man-child, made of tender persistence
Could see in her beauty…
Mine her depths,
Find something to cherish
In the wreck,
Fight and not perish
Against inner battlements she’d set up.
That he might, somehow, fall in love.

I tend to like the first one better. I’d love to know your thoughts and/or critiques!



Categories: Poems | Tags: , , , | 3 Comments


Once in a while I’m good for a poem, and it’s been a while since I last posted one, so here for good measure is my once in a while poem.


Words fill all the pages.
I finally closed the book…
End to a season brimming
With tragedy and hope.
Each page bears a story;
I can go back and look
The places that I’ve come from,
My past, and all that took
The pieces of my heart
And then ran away or died,
The people that I’ve loved,
The occasions that I’ve cried.
To me it’s sacred ground,
or rather, pages there inside.
Chapters of my journey…
Tell me, what is yet to come?
What will the final page say
When my life is gone and done?
One journal is complete now.
Another will soon begin.
I wonder, oh I wonder,
what stories will it hold within?

Categories: Poems | Tags: , , , , , , | 2 Comments


A rather depressing, wry take… I wrote this during the final month of the long winter, during March. Things are getting better since then in more ways than one. Don’t worry too much, Mom. Writing is based off of the emotions of the moment, and even in the low moment when I wrote this it turned out even more calloused than I felt. But, it’s been quite a while since I’ve posted poetry, so I thought I’d put it up regardless. I’m hoping to post more regularly than I have been, and posting this is a part of that attempt.


“You shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free.”
Or choke you like a collar attached to a leash as you run in the opposite direction.
“The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak”
The spirit is willing…sometimes, but sometimes it flees His protection.

“Ye of little faith.”
I believe, actually. I’m just afraid of dying to myself.
“Acknowledge Him, and he will make your path straight.”
My crooked ways please me so I put God on the shelf.

“Why do the nations rage,
and the people plot in vane?
The kings of the earth
have all joined together
to turn against the Lord and his Annointed saying
“Let’s cut the ropes and set oursleves free.”
But the one who sits in Heaven laughs,
He scoffs at them.
Then, in His anger, He rebukes them.”

Categories: My Life, Poems, rants | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Truth vs. Tradition

Watch me dis the tradition

You’ve held to so long.

Your tightly clenched fists are missing 

The point, though tradition’s not wrong.


Wrap yourself around the pointless.

You are turning people off.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

It’s your fault you’re a dying breed–

We see through your chatter, we block

You out. You aren’t real, just an empty shell.


I want more.


Where is the God

You buried in ritual and recitation?

We need a renaissance:

To break free from these trappings,

Go back to The Book.


I’ll unmask the power you’ve run from.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Keep hiding, concealing, cowering behind your wall;

I’ll unleash the avalanche,

For somewhere amongst these ancient ashes

There is truth.


Incant behind your alters in assemblies.

I’ll unveil Veritas.

You are strangling society…

Separating them from substance.

Your loath-ness to change

Dooms humans to Hades.


Tradition doesn’t matter.

Retain truth, and dismiss the rest.

Don’t sacrifice souls for comfortable complacency.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

The Savior died for their salvation,

But you can’t alter your sermons, your songs…

That would be an abomination.


Addicted to amenity;

Averse to alteration.

Tradition over truth

Imprecates society.


Get over yourselves

Before you are blamed:

The cause of the casualty.’

Categories: Poems, rants | Tags: , , , , | 7 Comments

Who I Am

A saint and a sinner–
A study in contrasts,
or contradictions,
or compromises.
I am
In no man’s land
Where people from both sides
I am
Apparently terrifying because
I don’t fit the boxes.
I am
Slightly terrified because
I know I never will.
I’ll be
Forever alone,
Respected from a distance:
I am only (mostly) accepted by the open sinners
I love them.
I was
Once known as the awkward child among the saints.
They now make me as uncomfortable
As I make them.
I am
Too ‘good’ to be a blatant sinner;
Too bad to be a stained glass saint.
I am
For Eternity
In between
Categories: Poems, Ponderings | Tags: , , , , , | 2 Comments

A Poem & A Pondering

The poem…
I wish I had common sense,                                               
A nickel or dime would do.                                                    
But my Mama says I trust too much–                            
An empath through and through.                                   
I let their hurts kill me                                          
‘Cause His love fills me.                                             
They try to ignore the pain.                                  
Maybe they’re more sane?                                  
I couldn’t stop if I wanted to                                 
‘Cause this is who I am.                                      
I love the people–                                            
You can’t stop that on demand.                            
I cry their tears; take night watchDSCN1058                      
They try to numb the scars                              
I may have botched common sense,                 
But I love them as they are.                         
 ¶                                                                                         They’re drowning life out with relationships;      
I’m praying that He’ll get through.                    
Only He can fill their voids.                         
I’m praying He’ll do that too.                            
It hurts sometimes
When I don’t see results,
And they’re running away with my soul,
But His love binds.
I’m committed; I’ll fight their battlesOLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
Or die trying.
 I can’t heal mortal wounds;
I can’t slow their dying.
He can save them, though.
If they’d only ask.
Is He working?
I can’t tell.
But I can hope against hope
That morning will come
That they’ll see the light,
Come to the Son.
What seems hopeless isn’t.
There’s an army by my side. 
I don’t know what God’s doing,
But I’m along for the ride.
The pondering…
Being a lover of lost causes sounds much more exciting and artsy than it is. Really it is discouraging. Really it tears my  heart in a thousand different directions as people take parts away with them. I never hear from them again, though I still pray for them from time to time. It is disheartening to never see results.
I read Revelations, and it makes me weep because I know many members of ‘Babylon’… the sinful and sexually immoral. But I sin too. Jesus loves me. He loves them. They misuse His name, though He died so they might live. They just don’t understand! Jesus, open their eyes. Would some, even if they understood, still turn away? My heart says yes. That makes me sad.
All I can do is pray and befriend them. That doesn’t seem like much. That doesn’t seem like enough to do for them. They have been hurt by the world; they know no other way.’They’ could so easily be me had I been born to different parents four houses down the street.
My mission field…the lost causes. Why me God? Surely someone else could have don’t a better job? Surely someone else could have won more, and could have planted more seeds by being less afraid? But You have put me here, so I will try, even though I am discouraged and I feel like I am failing You. For Your sake I will keep trying.
The end.
Categories: My Life, Poems, Ponderings | Tags: , , , , , , | 11 Comments

Prose Poetry

It’s been long enough that I’d like to put up some more writing stuff. I actually wrote this earlier this month, but I think it reflects where I am right now well. I don’t have a title yet, so I’m OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAopen to suggestions. Let me know what you think.

I wear feathers because I want to fly. I want to explore the depths, and heights of things. I want to go in soul, and in spirit to places most people are afraid of because they are uncomfortable. Comfort should not be allowed to stop adventure, virtue maybe, or  the Holy spirit, but not comfort. Comfort doesn’t like battling evil, or throwing caution to the wind for curiosity’s sake. There are lines. There are lines that I will not cross, but there are deserts, and rainforests far beyond civilization whose only lines involve danger, and comfort which I will stubbornly force myself to cross in the pursuit of…something.

God never meant for us to be content. We are far too easily satisfied; we trade the ocean for our slums, and mud pies. We trade vastness for narrow-minded life. We kill ourselves off slowly by denying ourselves the wonder of wandering at will. Productivity will never trump playfulness. Sometimes I lose the wonder for a moment or a day.  Sometimes I don’t even notice that it’s gone. It creeps out slowly upon overexposure to them: the safe and simple-minded ones.

When I notice the emptiness I leave them in order  to seek wonder, and I find it somewhere between the ocean and the mountaintop. I forgo sophisticatedness for a time. Though sometimes I am forced back into high society, and when I am I wear feathers: my reminder to fly. 

Categories: My Life, Poems, Ponderings | Tags: , , , , , | 13 Comments


And I wonder why they haunt me. Vulnerability hurts. I give away pieces of myself, and I don’t get them back. They go away with it- the people- whether they know it or not. I never forget them. It would be different if they stole my heart, but they didn’t: I gave it freely, on purpose, aware that it would hurt, though with no idea of how much.

So I lay awake thinking, and praying, and writing of them. I wonder if they ever do the same, or if they have forgotten. Did my contribution make a difference for him; is it still at work now, a year later? Is it still significant to that person after five months? Do they remember and treasure those moments of vulnerability? Him, and her, and him…others. I can never forget. It hurts, yes, they have taken something, but I dare say they have given something too. I think the pain is worth it. Do you? No pain no gain.

If you refuse to give away your soul, to gain your soul by losing it you are left like Peter Pan: forever restless staring in at the window. Longing for something you have refused to allow yourself. He was somewhat whole, yet in so many ways he was not. I don’t want that to be me. So I keep giving more, and more. Honestly sometimes I don’t know what will be left at the end but I trust the Father that it will be good. That He will rejuvenate me so that I have more to give.

Investing yourself reaps forever rewards
and forever tortured memories.
It’s worth it, I know, but I miss them so much.
Do they remember, or have they forgotten
The short girl who loved them so much?
On cold dark grey nights do they lay awake thinking
Of me, and of others who’ve touched
that place in the heart that’s hidden so deep?
The real ones, the true ones, the hurt ones,
moved on but not nearly forgotten.


Categories: My Life, Ponderings | Tags: , , , , , | 6 Comments

Late summer nights

I don’t have much to say that would add to this. It speaks to a lot of things that have been going on in my journey lately.

Late summer nights pondering the questions of life are worthwhile. The answers don’t always come, but the strength is there: the strength in my head.Strength fails-migraines interrupt mental capacity. The soul longs for an oasis.

Late summer nights spent with the embodiment of strength are more than worthwhile. Deep conversations: pleading, being known, adoring. Strength is made perfect in weakness, and late summer nights.

Categories: My Life, Poems, Ponderings | Tags: , , , , , | 1 Comment

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