Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Ten Poems for Final

Poem Set 1

Icicles 

The hang,
Rooted in unity.
One by one,
They drop.
Freedom's short life.


Sun 

The beauty that no one looks upon,
But always feels.
Faithful, each morning,
The Son guides our daily path.

Mountains 

Oh, to have faith like a mustard seed,
I'll see the mountains dance.




Poem Set 2

Running Shoes 

Tattered, rugged,
soles worn out.
Tossed in the corner,
soon, the trash.

A Drop of Dew 

On the deep green leaf,
it waits.

Roses 

layers upon layers rest
fanned out teardrops.
they tear so
easily.




Sonnet (#3)

Life without You 

The first steaks of light peek through my curtains.
I lie in bed, despondent for the day ahead.
I choose to dream of times we spent together.
When will you return? How long will you stay
This time? Our nights are getting briefer
As the days without you elongate.
I close my eyes and allow you to flood
Over my thoughts, till the world becomes still.

I cannot wait for your presence anymore.
I must move on and live this day without you.
With reluctance, I open my eyes and rise
Out of bed, knowing our time was short-lived.
But throughout the day, I think of you--
Please come back in my life, my precious sleep.



Occasional Poem (#4)

The Hunt for Christ 

When I was young,
it was about the sweets--
Gathering at the start line,
waiting for the signal.
leaving everyone I knew
behind me, dashing off in pursuit.
The chocolate, the candy,
Chocolate bunnies, Easter eggs.
It was the thrill of the hunt
and the treasures inside.

As I grow older,
it's a different day,
not a special day.
Sit through a church sermon,
go shopping, and cook.
relatives, even those unfavorable ones,
make a trip to my house,
where we laugh through conversation.
When finally, the last guest leaves,
the cleaning begins.
I hunt for a reason to even be excited.

As I look toward my time of dying,
I finally see the importance.
I peel back the way society
has portrayed Easter. I look
beyond circumstance
and fabrications of this day.
I reflect on the resurrection--
salvation from the cross,
the love of my Savior.
I know there is life after death.
My hunt for Christ has been satisfied.




Villanelle (#5)

This Moment 

On bended knee, he gave himself to thee—
his heart, his promise, all disguised in gold.
And reality replaced fantasy. 

He knew that together their life would be
whole. Whatever path that would soon unfold,
On bended knee, he gave himself to thee.

She stood there speechless. She did not foresee.
This moment she would remember and hold—
And reality replaced fantasy. 

He reached for her hand, and in jubilee,
told how together they would grow old. 
On bended knee, he gave himself to thee. 

Flustered, tongue-tied, excited, and giddy,
With one last look in his eyes, she was sold.    
And reality replaced fantasy. 

We joined together on a new journey
Where we would write a story yet untold.
On bended knee, he gave himself to me,
And family replaced fantasy.       




Ekphrastic Poem (#6)

She Did It (medium, thread on paper; by Emily Williams





All my life, I blended in. 
What you did, I did.
How you spoke, I spoke. 
What you wore, I wore. 
I conformed. It was comfort.
It was joy. It was easy. 
But it wasn't me.
It wasn't real.
I needed to be me,
Fully.
And so,
Here I am,
Not blending in with you. 
I stand out. 
I’m different. 

Will you join                                                                                                               me?




Ekphrastic Poem (#7)

Wreath 
       "Ever" by Merritt Becknell.  
       Medium: Digital print 


You said we’d be together,
That we’d make it through,
        It never had an ending.
Because nothing on earth,
Could make you as happy as I did.
                                And was filled with lush green needles. 
Moving in together was only the beginning.
You brought home a wreath.
                                But without tender care, attention,
Hung it up on our door—
Said it was a symbol of our undying love. 
                                With time, the end reveals itself.  



"You" Poem (#8)

Empty-Handed

You come empty-handed to the diner on the corner. 
The sign outside reads “Come in and enjoy a fresh batch of pancakes.”
You clench your stomach as it grumbles—it already digested
The apple you ate for breakfast yesterday. 
Though your pockets are empty, and you own no shoes,
You enter in, hoping grace will abound. 

The waitress spots you immediately—you stand out among others. 
She wipes her hands on her stained apron and weaves
Through the crowd to get to you.  You took a seat at a booth. 
“No shoes, no service,” she says, pointing
To your calloused and cracked feet. 

“Oh, Ma’am,” you begin.  “I’ve been traveling so long. 
Isn’t there something, anything, you can give me to eat?”
She wrinkles her face and lets out a snare.  Without even a pause,
She shoos you out.  “Out with you now, you piece of filth.”
You trip over your feet as you rush out the doors. 

You’re hungry and tired and just want to rest. 
You’re broke and you’re homeless and quite smelly, too. 
But, you continue walking, slowly, because
Walking is the only hope you have left. 

Then, up ahead, you see the bright lights.
The vast parking lot, the grocery store sign. 
Maybe, just maybe, you think to yourself,
I can get a job and provide for myself again. 
You tuck in your shirt and straighten your hair.
“May I have an application?” you ask the manager. 
He stands there, staring at you. 
You begin to feel uncomfortable. 
Finally, he says, “No.  We aren’t hiring.”  He walks away. 
You slump out of the store, gloomy and sad,
And there you see it, hanging in the window. 
A “Now Hiring” sign in yellow and orange. 
Your stomach tightens as you realize what happened.
He doesn’t want you—it seems no one does. 

Broken, ashamed.  Weak and hopeless.
You sit on a park bench and begin to think.    
You know you made mistakes in the past—
If you could, you would change them.
But you know you can’t.  A tear
Begins to form and falls down your cheek. 
With no one to turn to and no one to love,
You look at the ground.  You blankly stare at the pavement. 

You don’t see it at first, or rather recognize it—
It’s been so long since you’ve seen that image,
That symbol, that perfect sign of hope. 
It forms on the ground from a shadow
Of the light post above.  It lays at your feet—
The shape of a cross.  More tears
Form as you think about the cross. 

You fall on the ground, coming to the feet of Jesus. 
Crying, you can’t speak, but you know Jesus hears. 
You lay down your sins, your guilt, your anger.
Your sadness, your hurt, your betrayal, and shame. 
“God,” you cry out.  “I have nothing.”  “I am nothing.”
And audibly, for the first time, you hear His voice.
“I love you.  You’re mine.  Accept my grace.” 



Narrative Poem (#9) 

 Jack Nichols—NBA Star

They said they was only gonna sign me for 20 million. 
That ain’t enough to feed my family. I got four children. 
I gotta provide for them. They deserve the best from their dad. 
So if you want me, you gonna have to pay me more than that. 

I spend my weekends on my yacht—it's a break from my family.
For only one million, I couldn't pass it up.
I divide my time between my four houses, but spend most
of my time at my house on the east coast.

But my children, man, they mean everything to me. 
My family, they are my top priority. 
I'm only trying to protect them, that's why
there's no yacht and only one house for them.      

I know that I’m not allowed to see them anymore. 
But I still send them money once a year—50 dollars each. 
I work to give them a good future.  I treasure them,
All three of them--um--I mean four.  
  



"You" Poem (#10) 

Action Required 

We all have them-- 
whether we want to or not. 
You do it on a regular basis. 
Don't even know you do. 

You try to change; 
You're tired of doing it. 
But breaking a habit 
doesn't come easy. 

It's the biting of the nails 
or watching of Netflix. 
It's the late night snacking, 
or impulse buys. 
It's the gossip at work, 
or procrastination. 

I have them,
You have them. 
And though we don't want them
they are ever present. 
The won't go away
 on their own.  
It's up to you.  


Empty-Handed

You come empty-handed to the diner on the corner. 
The sign outside reads “Come in and enjoy a fresh batch of pancakes.”
You clench your stomach as it grumbles—it already digested
The apple you ate for breakfast yesterday. 
Though your pockets are empty, and you own no shoes,
You enter in, hoping grace will abound. 

The waitress spots you immediately—you stand out among others. 
She wipes her hands on her stained apron and weaves
Through the crowd to get to you.  You took a seat at a booth. 
“No shoes, no service,” she says, pointing
To your calloused and cracked feet. 

“Oh, Ma’am,” you begin.  “I’ve been traveling so long. 
Isn’t there something, anything, you can give me to eat?”
She wrinkles her face and lets out a snare.  Without even a pause,
She shoos you out.  “Out with you now, you piece of filth.”
You trip over your feet as you rush out the doors. 

You’re hungry and tired and just want to rest. 
You’re broke and you’re homeless and quite smelly, too. 
But, you continue walking, slowly, because
Walking is the only hope you have left. 

Then, up ahead, you see the bright lights.
The vast parking lot, the grocery store sign. 
Maybe, just maybe, you think to yourself,
I can get a job and provide for myself again. 
You tuck in your shirt and straighten your hair.
“May I have an application?” you ask the manager. 
He stands there, staring at you. 
You begin to feel uncomfortable. 
Finally, he says, “No.  We aren’t hiring.”  He walks away. 
You slump out of the store, gloomy and sad,
And there you see it, hanging in the window. 
A “Now Hiring” sign in yellow and orange. 
Your stomach tightens as you realize what happened.
He doesn’t want you—it seems no one does. 

Broken, ashamed.  Weak and hopeless.
You sit on a park bench and begin to think.    
You know you made mistakes in the past—
If you could, you would change them.
But you know you can’t.  A tear
Begins to form and falls down your cheek. 
With no one to turn to and no one to love,
You look at the ground.  You blankly stare at the pavement. 

You don’t see it at first, or rather recognize it—
It’s been so long since you’ve seen that image,
That symbol, that perfect sign of hope. 
It forms on the ground from a shadow
Of the light post above.  It lays at your feet—
The shape of a cross.  More tears
Form as you think about the cross. 

You fall on the ground, coming to the feet of Jesus. 
Crying, you can’t speak, but you know Jesus hears. 
You lay down your sins, your guilt, your anger.
Your sadness, your hurt, your betrayal, and shame. 
“God,” you cry out.  “I have nothing.”  “I am nothing.”
And audibly, for the first time, you hear His voice.
“I love you.  You’re mine.  Accept my grace.” 





Monday, April 27, 2015

Wreath

"Ever" 
       Medium: Digital print, by Merritt Becknell 


You said we’d be together,
That we’d make it through,
        It never had an ending.
Because nothing on earth,
Could make you as happy as I did.
                                And was filled with lush green needles. 
Moving in together was only the beginning.
You brought home a wreath.
                                But without tender care, attention,
Hung it up on our door—
Said it was a symbol of our undying love. 
                                With time, the end reveals itself.  

She Did It

"She Did It"
      Medium = Thread on paper, by Emily Williams



All my life, I blended in. 
What you did, I did.
How you spoke, I spoke. 
What you wore, I wore. 
I conformed. It was comfort.
It was joy. It was easy. 
But it wasn't me.
It wasn't real.
I needed to be me,
Fully.
And so,
Here I am,
Not blending in with you. 
I stand out. 
I’m different. 

Will you join                                                                                                               me?





Action Required

I believe we all have them—
whether we want to or not. 
You do it on a regular basis.
Don’t even know you do it. 

You try to change it;
You’re tired of doing it.
But breaking a habit
doesn’t come easy.

It’s the biting of the nails
or watching of Netflix. 
It’s the late night snacking,
or impulse buys. 
It’s the gossip at work,
or procrastination. 

I have them,
You have them. 
Though we don’t want them,  
they are very present. 
And they won’t go away,
with the way things are.


It’s up to you.    

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Villanelle Poem Revision 1

This Moment

On bended knee, he gave himself to thee—
his heart, his promise, all disguised in gold.
And reality replaced fantasy. 

He knew that together their life would be
whole.  Whatever path that would soon unfold,
On bended knee, he gave himself to thee.

She stood there speechless.  She did not foresee.
This moment she would remember and hold—
And reality replaced fantasy. 

He reached for her hand, and in jubilee,
told how together they would grow old. 
On bended knee, he gave himself to thee. 

Flustered, tongue-tied, excited, and giddy,
With one last look in his eyes, she was sold.    
And reality replaced fantasy. 

We joined together on a new journey
Where we would write a story yet untold.
On bended knee, he gave himself to me,
And family replaced fantasy.       

The Hunt for Christ Revision 3

The Hunt for Christ

When I was young
It was about the sweets—
Gathering at the start line,
waiting for the signal.
Leaving everyone I knew
behind me, dashing off in pursuit.
The chocolate, the candy,
Chocolate bunnies, Easter eggs.
It was the thrill of the hunt
And the treasures inside.


As I grow older 
It’s a different day,
not a special day.
Sit through a church sermon,
go shopping, and cook.
Relatives, even unfavorable ones,
Make a special trip to my house,
Where we laugh our way through conversation.
When everyone leaves, the cleaning begins.
I hunt for a reason to even be excited. 


As I look toward my time of dying, 
I finally see the importance.
I peel back the way society
has portrayed Easter.  I look
beyond circumstances
and fabrications of this day.
I reflect back on the resurrection—
Salvation from the cross,
The love of my Savior.
I know there is life after death. 
My hunt for Christ has been satisfied.