Thursday, November 29, 2012

Home



Home

A decrepit abode, standing alone
Guarded by dark, sullen trees
All is still, delightfully tranquil
As sunlight filters through leaves

Colorful flowers, like moss on old towers
Weave toward the jagged rooftop
As I look at this place, tales meet my gaze
To which I lose a fragile teardrop

Way back when, this place was lived in
T’was full of light, laughter and love
Windows were opened, sunshine poured in
For someone, this house was enough

It was the birthplace of dreams, of precious mem’ries
Which they clung to when they felt alone
This place lacked nothing, it held everything
For someone, this house was Home


-Melissa Lynne Moody




It fascinates me that there was almost always a time when old, broken-down things were treasured…

Before my family moved, there had only been one house that I’d ever lived in. I loved that place with all I had. It truly was Home.
Whenever I visit my old town, I can feel how it “used to be” my place.
It isn’t anymore.
But it used to be.
I drive by my old house, and for a moment it’s almost like I never left.
I know that house like the back of my hand.
It was Home.
And even though it isn’t anymore, it still… it still used to be. It was a good house… it was a good Home.
I know that one day it will be someone else’s, and I want them to love that house the way I did.
I want them to treasure it.
I want them to live and laugh and learn to love underneath it’s big, gray roof. 
I want it to really be Home to them.

Even though it isn’t mine anymore, I want it to be someone’s. I want them to respect that old place, just like I did.
I lived so much of my life in that old house.
The house didn’t make the memories.
But the house holds them.
And walking through its door is opening the gate to Memory Lane.
Even though I’ve moved on, I don’t want it to be left.

Monday, November 5, 2012

Poem Response Number 11

 

 

Our Walk On the Golden Gate Bridge 
-Robert Moody

Cars fly by on our left,
People almost trip over us,
But on our right
There is a very different story.
As we walk on one of the greatest
Man-made constructions,
We see birds fly together
In a military fashion,
Sailboats cutting through the water
Like a warm knife,
Waves unleashing their power
On the rocks and shore.
All this working together
To make a perfect harmony
Between man and nature.

I want to stay and enjoy all of it.
I want to put this moment in a jar.
But the cold wind is biting at us,
And it is so strong it is hard to stand.
So we turn back to the safety of the car,
To be wrapped in its warmth and comfort once more.

That is a moment I will cherish,
But I wish I will never relive.
For you cherish everything more when
You have it for only a little while.

 Found in: "Words of Art" Poetry Book




        “For you cherish everything more when
        You have it for only a little while.”
        When Robert read those last lines in class last year, they really hit me. I loved how he said it! And I loved the small twist it gave to the end…
        It made me think about how, so many times, I’ve wanted to hold onto a moment, or relive some time simply because it was so special. Sometimes even while experiencing moments that I know will be special to me later, there’s this part of me that wants to make time stop, so I can just… be, for as long as possible. I knew the moment would end, and I would never be able to have it again.
       
        But I guess that’s what Robert really meant when he said that we cherish everything more when we know it’ll be gone soon. The moments that are special stand out when they themselves are alone, away from anything like it. They become like shooting stars against a backdrop of normalcy…

        Everyone has moments. And somewhere, within everyone, is held the moments that were the shooting starts of their individual life.


********************************************************************************

Friday, November 2, 2012

Jell-O

Jell-O

Jig'ling Jell-O on my spoon
So Marvelously Maroon
Between my top teeth it'll squish
For more I'll wistfully wish
I love this joyous jelly
Bouncing within my belly
Oh, it is lovely jelly-O



To be completely honest, I don't even like Jell-O that much. But. I was in a mood, and I had to write a poem, so... there you go!
This poem is simply called a Rhyming Alliterisen. It has an a,a,b,b,c,c,d rhyming scheme, and is made up of 7 lines, each of which have 7 syllables, with one alliteration in every line except the last one. An Alliterisen is a succession of similar sounding consonant sounds.

Monday, October 29, 2012

Poem Response Number 10

 

  

Prettier Than Diamonds
-Kelsie Gustason


She’s been battling it for months,
Doesn’t know if she will win,
The cancer has made wounds,
She won’t be able to mend.

It’s made her body stick thin,
And it’s taken away her hair,
But her husband thinks she’s beautiful,
He’s always going to be there.

She’ll just sit alone and cry,
Doesn’t think she’s worth a thing,
Can’t believe that he still loves her,
Hasn’t taken away her ring.

Every day he’ll come up beside her,
Look her in the eye,
A smile on his face,
He tells her the truth, not a lie.

“You’re prettier than diamonds,
Eyes bluer than the sea,
I’m so luck that someone like you,
Would love somebody like me.

God has made you perfectly,
He doesn’t make mistakes,
Every time I see you,
I give Him thanks”

Found in: Our Poetry Book! “Words of Art”



This poem was written by a friend of mine, Kelsie Gustason, in which she several different things. When we feel like we could conquer the world it’s easier to find worth in who we are. But, when our bodies are broken, and we’re hurting, or sick and tired, it seems that we can feel almost as though the brokenness marks our worth.

But love sees past brokenness to the person underneath. Love doesn’t focus on the stumbles, it doesn’t leave when weakness shows its face, in fact, if anything, love grows because of those things. It strengthens. And that is captured beautiful in this poem.

Love of Sabby





Love of Sabby

The sun descends to the brilliant horizon
Casting the world in golden light
Everything gleams with a rich, auburn tint
As the moon and the sky reunite
The time of day when the world is still
For a moment, all is a hush
Even the pond stands in awe
And the dragonfly quiets its buzz
In one single voice the atmosphere calls
Goodbye to this treasured day
As it leaves on the wings of the breeze
A moment, too precious to stay




In class, we had to pick 4 words out of a group of 16 and write a poem from those words. The ones I picked were: Dragonfly, Voice, Silence, and Light. As I began jotting down ideas, a scene came to my mind… the time of day when the sun is setting, usually somewhere in the sky you see the moon, and everything is golden. One of my friends loves that time of day, so I wrote the poem for and named it after her.

I enjoy writing poetry without a format. I enjoy just… writing. So, this poem was really nice to write, simply because I could make it exactly the way I wanted it. It makes me happy.

Monday, October 22, 2012

Thank You, Jesus




Thank You, Jesus

I wish I could express
How Beautiful You are
You fill this whole world with life
The Universe with stars
Each and every whisper
That rustles any leaf
Before it ever touches us
From Your Mouth it leaves
Everything that sparkles
With the gleam of precious life
Was put here by Your Mighty Hand
And is guided by Your Sight
Nothing ever had to exist
Yet You made it all to be
So, Thank You, Jesus, for the gift
Of simply being me


I mentioned before that we were supposed to write a Psalm of our own. Well, this is mine. I had several different ones, some of which, (well, actually… Most of which) ended up being more personal, and to post it for the world to see would be sort of along the lines of allowing you to read a personal letter between me and a friend. But I felt fine sharing this one. You see sometimes I just love that I exist. Not in an,” I’m amazing. This world would totally stink if it weren’t for me” way… I mean I’m just me. But that sentence? I’m… Me! I’m alive! I love that some times.
            And the fact that the God Who created all of... everything? He saw that there were places in this world that I would fill up. He saw it fit that… I exist. That I live, and breathe, and make stupid mistakes, and hurt, and lean on Him to heal, and in some way touch the tiny corner of the world that He’s placed me in… Sometimes, I feel honored to be alive. Existing makes me happy. And that’s where this poem comes from, because there have been many times where I’ve gone outside, lifted my face up to the sky, spread out my arms wide, and just said, “Thank You, Jesus…” He knows what I mean….and now you do too.

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Poem Response Number 9




Love

-Brenna Grant

I saw love clearly
She was small and delicate like a rose that could easily be broken
She slowly sneaked through people’s lives doing her
Beloved business with ease
I saw her blue sparkling eyes stare intently as excitement
Flushed her pale cheeks with color
And heard her quietly whispering my name with entrancing tones
And I felt a drowsy warmth creep over me as my heart smiled with happiness.

Found in: “Words of Art: GRACE Poetry Class” Book. (Our class’ book from last year! It’s on Amazon! You know, just in case if you wanna check it out… )



This poem was written by Brenna Grant, a lovely friend of mine. In it, she takes the feeling love and personifies it, (which basically means she gave something that is not alive human-like qualities.)
The adjectives she used were truly delightful. They made it so easy to see the little sparkle of excitement in the blue eyes of Love as her cheeks being to flush pink. In the second line, the way she describes the fragility of love! And in the last line, “I feel a drowsy warmth creep over me”, I mean… How great is that? A “drowsy warmth”.  That’s just a fantastic choice of words.

Aside from the beautiful imagery, and the story it told, this poem honestly made me a little excited about vocabulary in general. I like words. A lot. I’m pretty sure that wasn’t the point of the poem, but it’s what it did for me.

Monday, October 15, 2012

Poem Response 8: Psalm 63




Psalm 63

English Standard Version (ESV)My Soul Thirsts for You
A Psalm of David


O God, You are my God; earnestly I seek you;
    my soul thirsts for You;
my flesh faints for You,
    as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.
 So I have looked upon You in the sanctuary,
    beholding Your power and glory.
 Because Your steadfast love is better than life,
    my lips will praise You.
 So I will bless You as long as I live;
    in Your Name I will lift up my hands.
My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food,
    and my mouth will praise You with joyful lips,
 when I remember You upon my bed,
    and meditate on You in the watches of the night;
for You have been my help,
    and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy.
My soul clings to you;
    Your right hand upholds me.
But those who seek to destroy my life
    shall go down into the depths of the earth;
 they shall be given over to the power of the sword;
    they shall be a portion for jackals.
 But the king shall rejoice in God;
    all who swear by him shall exult,
    for the mouths of liars will be stopped.


            In class this week, we’re supposed to write a Psalm, which means we’re also supposed to read a Psalm! A Psalm is… Hard to explain. To me, it’s a letter to God. And David’s Psalms were actually songs too! Which is so neat to me… Sometimes I’ll actually take Psalms from the Bible and write songs using David’s own words as a part of my own personal worship time… (Yeah, that’s right, I totally plagiarize...)
             This Psalm in particular is one of my favorites, because of certain phrases like, “earnestly I seek You, my soul thirsts for You… as in a dry and weary land where there is no water…”; “Because Your steadfast love is better than life, my lips will praise You. So, I will bless You as long as I live; in Your Name I will lift up my hands”; “for You have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy. My soul clings to You; Your right hand upholds me.”
            I love the imagery! And honestly, I feel like God deserves to be desired like this. God deserves to be fallen in love with! And… The joy that David seems to be expressing through desiring God this much? It amazes me! And I love it! And I have experienced this same kind of love for God before! And it’s… indescribably wonderful.

The Start





The Start

Boy sees girl- it's the typical story
He, with sensitive eyes and charming wit
Enthralled, as she stands in all her glory
Wishing to approach, yet he can't commit

Her green eyes lock onto his baby blues
Her lips curve into an enchanting smile
Gracing him with the confidence to move
Together, they talk and laugh for a while

Easily discovering things to say
Contemplating silly, everyday things
Laughing beneath the sun's warm, golden ray
Love began fluttering its fragile wings

Time slipped away, their hearts grew together
Neither knew t'was the start of forever





I wrote this Sonnet to express an idea that I’ve always been fascinated with: we never really know when the start of a relationship is. Only looking back can we know that this particular day, or that exact moment was the start of something… beautiful! Whether the relationship is a friendship, or the relationship between a mother and her child, or a man and his wife, the relationship has a start! And that mysterious point of beginning, the start of something that had not existed before, always interested me…

            I said this poem is a Sonnet, basically what that means, (in case you want to feel enlightened) is a 14 line poem, and I used the form that called for 3 stanzas that are 4 lines long, finishing with 1 stanza that is 2 lines long. The rhyme scheme is abab-cdcd-efef-gg.

            And now you know.

            Have a beautiful day, and thank you so much for reading.

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Glimmers Contained




Glimmers Contained

Galloping haphazardly in twilight’s glow
Diving for the golden glints
That made up the firefly show
There were 5 of us loud children-
-No two were the same-
We were the proud adolescents
Of our precious Briarwood Lane
Muddy Tennis shoes
Darted that way and this
Believing we’d caught the floating light
‘Till we realized we had missed
Laughter and shouts filled the
Warm summer night
The sun continued melting
‘Till moon was our only light
Mama’s voice was heard,
So, we said goodnight to the stars
And each fell asleep that night
Beside a small twinkling jar



            We were supposed to write a Childhood Memory Poem, which is a poem using: A memory from our childhood, a pair of shoes, a color, a sound, and the name of a street or the name of a person. Yeah. It was a little random, but… that was the poem! So, this is my Childhood Memory Poem!

            So, my childhood was littered with summers full of firefly catching. This night specifically was the night where my brother’s friend decided to show me something “cool”… he said, “Hey Melissa, look at this... Stand still”. I did what he said, watching the little firefly that he had caught in his hand. Very quickly, he took the little bug, and smeared it on my blue tee shirt; killing the bug and leaving behind a glow-in-the-dark trail.
            This was a bad choice on his part, because…  I was, at least in my mind, practically in charge of my own personal PETA organization, and as far as I was concerned a lightning bug was just as much an animal as a bunny rabbit, which was just as much a living being as you or I, and should therefore be treated with the utmost love and respect. Killing a bug so you can admire a trail of glowing green slime did not seem like a respectful, loving thing to do.
            This boy spent the next few moments being screamed at by an extraordinarily angry me. I might have even cried because I felt so bad for the lightning bug… I’m not completely sure though…

            But, as I was writing, that scene just didn’t quite fit, so instead, I just wrote about the nights of lightning bug catching in general. It’s one of the things I absolutely love about summer… Watching the fireflies, catching them, having a jar of them to light up my room at night… It makes my heart happy. And now you know.

Starlit Love




Starlit Love

The lump of laughter sits soundlessly
Caught up within my throat
The atmosphere feels so alive
Filled with my heartsong’s note
On this night the world’s aglow
The air feels extra warm
The stars are twinkling merrily
He and I are alone
Dancing to our secret tune
In the middle of this field
Never before has My Love felt
So close… so real
My gaze pointing heavenward
My arms stretched open wide
Feeling so perfect, here with Him
The Apple of His Eye
My smile’s not just a smile
It’s so much more than that
And He, My God, my One True Love
Hears the praise within my laugh
For in this moment, twirling
Under His canopy of stars,
I have fallen more in love
With the Maker of my heart





            I wrote this poem simply because I could!
            I began thinking about one day at camp this summer when I felt really close with God. I went beside one of the buildings, on top of this delightful hill. I looked up and just… the stars! Oh, they were beautiful. This summer at camp, I really fell in love with the stars…
            And while I was up there, I had a truly intimate moment with God, where He was… so there. And I couldn’t stop smiling. There weren’t, and aren’t, words to express the joy I felt, being in His Presence like that.
            It was true joy.

             

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

7: The Response About the Future Man




One Day You'll See
-LoveBugg

The first time I saw you,
I knew you were the one.
There was no question in my mind,
after having that much fun.

There's just something about you,
that I've never found before.
And now that we're good friends,
I find myself wanting more.

I never thought it possible,
to care for one so much.
But everyday that passes,
I long to feel your touch.

To look into your eyes,
would make my day complete,
cause every time you look at me,
my heart just skips a beat.

Everything I'd wished for,
every dream I'd hope come true,
I never thought would happen,
until the day that I met you.

I know that your not ready,
for the kind of commitment that I am,
but for you I'd wait forever,
there's nothing I can't stand.

Although it hurts to know,
that you don't feel the same as me,
hopefully one day you'll realize,
one day you'll wake up and see.



            There's definitely a part of me that's chanting for the person. I think that moment when someone finally loves you back would be one of the hardest things in the entire world to wait for. And while you are waiting, there is always that possibility of rejection. Maybe that day when they’ll “wake up and see" will never come, and you'll have to stand by and watch as they fall in love with someone else. And then you'll have to deal with the realization that maybe they weren't your person after all...
            And maybe something that makes it a little harder, and maybe a little easier at the same time, is the realization that if they weren't your person... Then you were never really theirs either…
            I've never been in love, and I've been fortunate enough to never have had my heart broken in that way before. And if I'm going to be honest, the idea of being rejected when I finally do put my heart on the line scares me a little bit.
            But I rest in the knowledge that (I think) I have someone in this world, and they will be my person. I think God has someone for me. I don't know who he will be, if I've met him, or if he is simply a figure in my distant future. And… I think that one day a fear of rejection won't be a realistic option. He and I will both know, we will both "see". I look forward to that day...
            And I also look forward to the journey to that day. I think the road I'll take to get there will determine the person I am when I finally am there. If I just knew who and where he was, then... mystery over! I wouldn't have to trust God with the unknown, because the unknown would be known to me. But, since I don't know, I do have to trust God. It's hard, but... He knows. He knows who is best. He knows who is mine. And I love the fact that I can rest in His knowledge and enjoy the journey to the day where His knowledge becomes my knowledge and I finally can "see"...

Half a Dozen Responses!

Forgotten Name
-Lynn Barany

 He sat alone on the park bench
keeping to himself
watching the frozen river
wishing the snow would melt

He used to be so famous
powerful, and rich
he always though his golden years
would come without a hitch.

He thought he was immortal
one of the chosen few.
Now he can't pay his rents
Which for months is overdue

Where did everything go wrong?
Why did his family leave?
why he had been abusive
never whispered, only screamed.

A street light on the river
said it was time that he should go.
So he gets up very slowly
But he falls into the snow.

The next day's daily paper
mentioned something of the news.
A one time famous fellow
but nobody had a clue.

So if you're such a person
who lives only for your fame,
remember it doesn't take too long
before folks forget your name.


            There is definitely a sad aspect to this poem. Or, not a sad aspect, just a general feel of sadness. This man used to be somebody huge, but now... Now he is nothing more than another face. He is described as one who was abusive, who screamed, whose family left him all alone... I think sometimes it does take losing everything to truly realize what you had. And when you become wrapped up in gaining everything, you miss out on what you've had all along. This man didn't treasure what he had, instead he abused it, and so he lost it.
            Now, there he sits, all alone... The money is gone. Whatever fancy clothes he had are now probably nothing more than under priced garments at a secondhand shop, the promotions at his work place no longer hold any meaning… Those things have come and gone. And while pursuing these things that left him empty-handed, he pushed aside all who offered him love simply because at the time, love wasn't what he was seeking And now that he's lost his chance, he probably realizes that love is all he has ever really needed.

Monday, September 24, 2012

Fifth is a Funny word... And it Marks the Number of This Poem Response

A Prayer in Spring
-Robert Frost

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.

Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,
Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;
And make us happy in the happy bees,
The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.

And make us happy in the darting bird
That suddenly above the bees is heard,
The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,
And off a blossom in mid air stands still.

For this is love and nothing else is love,
The which it is reserved for God above
To sanctify to what far ends He will,
But which it only needs that we fulfil.

I like the first stanza the best… Asking God to simply allow us time to be in this moment, this time, rather than looking ahead to what could be a major problem. I feel like we do that a lot, we get to a good place and the minute everything is okay, we start worrying about what could go wrong around the next bend in the road. We spend all this time asking God for a "safe, good place" but whenever we find ourselves in one, we don't recognize it, because we're already too busy worrying about the next thing that we have no power over.
I don’t think we need to be naive, or pretend like problems will not exist in the future. But... I think there is a difference in living in the knowledge that things could go badly, and worrying about them going badly. Worry doesn't ever fix the situation, if anything, it causes it to become worse. Or at least, that's what I've seen... I could be wrong. But that’s just what I think.

But while we are in a state of, "The future could go wrong but may not", it's nice to just... enjoy the moment now. Because it is only our moment for a little while, and then it's the past. The future also doesn't get here, or look any different when it finally does get here, if we spend all  our time worrying. So, I think it is wise to ask God to allow us to enjoy the present, because I for one don't want to look back on my past and realize that all I did with it was worry about the future.

Thousand Chances

Thousand Chances

The words abide deeply within my heart
Held tenderly, where my mind alone can reach
Oh, if only you could hear them too
Uncountable phrases, meant for you
Silence fills the air- I long for it to be my words
Almost…but my lips have a different idea
Now, there I go, changing the subject again
Desperate for the time that’s already passed

Chance after chance has died at the hands of panic
How many more will I lose? I’ve had enough
A moment- this moment- ignoring my phobia
No longer holding it all in
Could this be happening? The ending could be so tragic
Everything’s on the line. I meet your gaze and…could it be?
Say the words back. Please. Say the words.



Starting out this poem, I wasn't quite sure what exactly I was writing about. The idea was simply that... whenever I have something serious to say to someone else, I usually miss a couple of PERFECT opportunities before I finally spit it out, because deep down... I'm a chicken. (I feel bad for chickens. They are so disrespected.) But in all honesty, it is sometimes just hard to say what my heart really wants to say! This type of poem is called a Double Mirror Acrostic, so we had to pick a phrase before we did any of the writing! I decided my phrase would by "Thousand Chances" because sometimes it feels like a thousand chances have gone by before I finally get around to saying what I really wanted to say. Now, look at the poem, notices that if you read the starting letter of each line, down, it spells "Thousand chances" :
T...
H...
O...
U...
S...
A...
N...
D..

C..
H..
A..
N...
C..
E..
S...

What's neat about a Double Mirror though, is that if you also look at the ending letters of each line, they spell the same thing! So, the first line starts and ends in the letter "T", the second line starts and ends with "H", the third lines starts and ends with “O”, and so on. Making this a fascinating and mildly difficult poem to write.
As I continued to pick phrases for the lines, a story started in my mind, and I decided to make this poem about that moment when someone finally lays their heart on the line and says those three special, little words that mean a world of change for any relationship... It was neat to write! And I hope you enjoyed it.

Monday, September 17, 2012

The Fourth Journal Response!



“Do You Have Any Advice For Those of Us Just Starting Out?"
-Ron Koertge

“Give up sitting dutifully at your desk. Leave
your house or apartment. Go out into the world.

It's all right to carry a notebook but a cheap
one is best, with pages the color of weak tea
and on the front a kitten or a space ship.

Avoid any enclosed space where more than
three people are wearing turtlenecks. Beware
any snow-covered chalet with deer tracks
across the muffled tennis courts.

Not surprisingly, libraries are a good place to write.
And the perfect place in a library is near an aisle
where a child a year or two old is playing as his
mother browses the ranks of the dead.

Often he will pull books from the bottom shelf.
The title, the author's name, the brooding photo
on the flap mean nothing. Red book on black, gray
book on brown, he builds a tower. And the higher
it gets, the wider he grins.

You who asked for advice, listen: When the tower
falls, be like that child. Laugh so loud everybody
in the world frowns and says, "Shhhh."

Then start again.”



This poem is a little awkward. It doesn't rhyme, (But I've come to find that a lot of poetry does not possess that quality) but I love the ideas in it! Especially the last stanza, about laughing when our tower falls. It appeals to me. And the part about the notebook-- I don't completely agree that it has to have a kitten or a spaceship on it, but pages the color of weak tea are most certainly the best.
To me, it sounds as if the writer is simply saying, "Love life. Experience it. Be ready to Learn. Don't fear failure. And enjoy the journey to standing back up again."
Which is a pretty great message, if you ask me.

Hopefully Me




Hopefully Me

The butterfly drifted along with the
Breeze. She is graceful, most beautiful
In her most natural form. Even
From a distance, one can see
She is lovely, unique
A special creature.
The expression
Of what I
Wish to
Be.


I  wrote this poem because... I love butterflies!
It's an odd attraction, but, what I meant in the poem by, "The expression of what I wish to be" is... What I see when I look at a butterfly is what I want people to see when they look at me.
Butterflies are graceful, which is something I'd love to be. I tend to be more along the lines of awkward and clumsy, or I feel that way anyway. But the idea of grace is something I'd love people to associate with me.
Most beautiful in their most natural form... When you think of a butterfly, or, when I think of one anyway, I think of it drifting from flower to flower on a bight sunny day. I think of it in the form which is its most natural! And I think that's where they're most beautiful-- drifting from flower to flower. And, you know in movies when the two people who are trying very hard to not fall in love have that moment where the guy looks at the girl, and it's almost like he sees her for the first time and he's... completely captivated! Because… she’s beautiful. Usually, the girl has dressed up, her hair is perfect, and she looks extra special. That works for some girls, because that... dressing up, looking that way... that's them! It isn't me. And I know you can't just say, "Yeah, well. I'm going to be the most beautiful when I'm barefooted, sitting cross legged in jeans and a tee shirt, laughing about something ridiculous." I know you can't make people think you're most beautiful when you're a certain way. But. I'd like to be seen as most beautiful when I'm just... being me...
And finally, when I look at a butterfly, they seem to be... special. I'd like to be the kind of person, the kind of Christian, where, when people don't even know me, they can look at me and say, "There is something special about her." I'd love to shine Jesus like that.... I really want to shine Him like that...

Thursday, September 13, 2012

The Hall




The Hall



For
the first
time, my foot
pressed upon the
floor. It softly creaked
With the cry of stories
untold. Unspoken tales of
those who had first glided down this
hall. I was not the first. Gazing up
toward the slightly chipped wall, I wondered,
who they were, these firsts. Children growing a
little older with each step? Maybe
someone’s grandparents, still holding
hands after fifty years. They
all lived, whoever they
were, they lived, they all
breathed, loved and lost,
and walked down
this same
hall.

-Melissa Lynne Moody



I love the idea that most everywhere that I have been, someone else has been there too. There is so much life! Everywhere! And I just find that wonderful.

Although, in writing this poem, I honestly was at a loss for what to write about. Our assignment was to write a Double Etheree, (Just so you know, a regular Etheree is a 10 lined poem, and the syllable count follows the line count. So, the first line has 1 syllable, the second line has 2 syllables, the third line has 3 syllables, and so on. A Reversed Etheree is a Regular Etheree only… in reverse! So the first line has 10 syllables, the second line has 9 syllables, the third line has 8, and you get the idea. A Double Etheree is a 20 line poem that follows the structure of a Regular Etheree for the first 10 lines, and then follows the structure of a Reversed Etheree for the last 10 lines. And… now you know.)

 I was experiencing writer’s block of a most severe sort. I had NO idea what to write about! I was texting one of my friends, and I finally decided to use someone else’s creativity, so I asked them, “Give me a random noun? Please.” They replied with, “A hall.”. My first thought was, “That has got to be the oddest noun I have ever heard of in my entire life. Why?...” My thoughts were not very happy with the situation, and continued on, sounding something along the lines of, “Uhh… A hall… how do you write about a hall?... That’s such a dull thought…. They just stand there! ….Getting passed. All the time. By people…. So. Many. People. And they just.. Are! Watching! People just walking right on by... How many people must’ve walked through the hall of... of... a really old house? That’d be so cool to know…OH MY GOODNESS!!!! POEM! NOW!” And with that, along with a couple hours of work, this poem was born!

I also realized through writing this specific poem that I pretty much hate syllables… In a rather passionate way... in case if you were curious.

Monday, September 10, 2012

And Now For the Third Poem Response

The Greatest Artist
-Udiah (witness to Yah)

God is the Greatest Artist
To whom no one can compare,
Streaking sunsets very beautiful,
Painting rainbows in the air.

Brushing green the hillside scene,
Blotting blue the sky above,
Splashing flowers 'cross the ground beneath,
Shading white clouds with His glove.

Of the wonders God has made
There is none that is so fair
As the smile He paints upon your face
When you realize He's there.

Found at: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-greatest-artist/

              Have you ever watched someone's face when they realize God really is there? Or watched them descibe a moment where God acted in their life, and they just don't have the words to express how amazing it was? If they're anything like me, they get excited about it! And that smile... It's a smile that comes from pure joy! They've seen Jesus!! It's a smile that comes from trying to describe an indescribable experience.
But, it's more than the smile... It's the eyes too. Something about those two features, our lips and our eyes... they tell our soul to the world. It's never just our eyes that tear up, it's also our lips which quaver just the slightest. It's never just our lips that laugh! But our eyes also are fixed on whatever the cause of laughter may be, squinting just the slightest, joy seeming to shine from them. When we lie about how we feel, usually we can fake it with our lips... smile when we're supposed to, maintain composure when it's appropriate, all those sorts of things. But our eyes tend to give it all away, at least, to the people who know us well.
           Isn't that amazing though? How two seperate features that look so totally different can work together to expess a single emotion. Emotions can't be felt by anyone on the outside, emotions can't be seen, thoughts can't be felt, these things only exist within the one experiencing them. But, through the beauty of facial expression, we can show one another what we alone can feel! Without words, without gestures, but simply by giving a look... and then they'll know...
          I've liked this poem for a good long while. Not because it's perfect-- Personally, I don't like a couple of the word placements, and the flow of the poem itself could be improved-- But the core of the poem is beautiful. That moment of realization that the God of the Universe has had His Hands in your life is a moment of true beauty. And God most certainly is the Greatest Artist....

Friday, August 31, 2012

Poem Response: The Second One



 funny...but not
-Arianna Loshnowsky
it's funny how hello is always accompanied with goodbye
it's funny how good memories can start to make you cry
it's funny how forever never seems to last
it's funny how much you'd lose if you forgot about your past
it's funny how “friends” can just leave when you are down
it's funny how when you need someone they never are around
it's funny how people change and think they're so much better
it's funny how many lies are packed into one “love letter”
it's funny how one night can contain so much regret
it's funny how you can forgive but not forget
it's funny how ironic life turns out to be
but the funniest part of all, is none of that’s funny to me




This poem made me sad. There’s some truth to it, most definitely… A good bit of truth! But… I don’t know, this just seems like something a woman would be screaming to her best friend after some man broke her heart as she threw away all his stuff. It wouldn’t rhyme in that situation, obviously, but the ideas in the stanzas would be the same ideas that she would end up raging about. The thing is, she wouldn’t stop at the raging… the next moment would be her losing steam, curling up on the floor, and crying. Hard. Because that’s what we do when we hurt—we get angry, and then we realize it’s more than anger. Sometimes it isn’t even really anger at all! We just hurt. And we don’t know what to do… And as I read the last line of this poem, I could almost see that moment where anger becomes tears... and to the floor she goes….
So.
Depressing.


And although this has nothing to do with that top paragraph, I figured I might as well throw in here that I really like the way the author rhymed the words. They aren’t obnoxious rhymes. They’re easy to read! And I like that. Sometimes reading rhyming poetry feels like an excersise. This one wasn’t that way, which, as depressing as it was, made it more enjoyable to read that it would have been if the rhymes were frustrating. So, there is a silver lining to this grey little cloud…

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Poem Response Numero Uno

            Oh! Something I’ve forgotten to mention is that part of my homework is also to write responses to poems written by other people and post them for your reading pleasure. Hopefully. So, anyway, here is my first one! 



Tomorrow
-Mick Jackson

You
Told me
To worry
Not, tomorrow
Is another day,
A chance to start again.
I wish it was that simple.
You may forgive me with your words,
But the hurt in your eyes betrays you.
For me there cannot be a tomorrow.




            “The hurt in your eyes betrays you”… Isn’t that such a heartbreaking moment? When you realize that you really have hurt someone? And what’s worse is that the people we love most are usually the ones we hurt most. If we were offered a million dollars to say something that we know would give a loved one’s eyes that look of helpless pain, we wouldn’t accept it! And yet, there you stand, knowing that your words and actions have hurt them… and you’ll never be able to take any of it back. Yeah, time heals, and you can apologize as much as you want. They can forgive you, and you can continue having a full, wonderful relationship, but… none of that erases those painful moments that none of us want to think about.
            We hate to be the ones causing pain, don’t we? It’s so much more comfortable to be the victim. It’s easier to be the hurt one, (at least, it is until it comes time to forgive…) but it’s nicer to think that we were the ones hurt, we were the ones wronged… not that we’re the ones causing the hurt. Because, if we’re the ones causing hurt… we’re the bad guy! And no one likes the bad guy…
            Unfortunately though… sometimes, we are the bad guy. And as much as we don’t want to be, we have to be willing to admit it. We have to be willing to admit that we caused pain, and ask forgiveness for it.
            That’s hard to do. But, we have to be willing to do it…

            I liked this poem for actually… showing that side of a painful situation. Usually, we hear from the wounded soul, how they have to reach within themselves, or give it to God before they can forgive. But rarely do we hear from the side of the one who has to be forgiven. Both sides are very real, and, (in certain situations) both take an equal amount of courage to talk about. It takes courage to feel; especially to feel difficult things. It’s much easier to keep everything bottled up, and hold the world at arm’s length. But until you allow yourself to feel it, mentally go through it, and take whatever steps it takes to get over it, (forgive someone, or ask for forgiveness, or whatever else your situation may call for.) we won’t be able to move on.
            One of the neat things about being a Christian though is… we don’t have to hold on to it. We can move on—because even when we don’t feel strong enough, He is.
            He is so we can be.