Archive for June, 2015

Don’t They Know?

Oh, don’t they know
how beautiful they are?
Unique, fallen snow
admired from afar.

Oh, can’t they see
just how warm they glow?
They need only be
content instead of low.

Oh, won’t they try
to start a little fun?
Adventure won’t deny
the rights of anyone.

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Sleep’s Sword

My body’s grown tired.
I can’t concentrate.
The notebook is blurry,
as well as her face.

Perhaps in the morning
I’ll see clearly again.
For now I am conquered;
the sword over pen.

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O Lord, guide me
in all my plans.
Your will be done
instead of man’s.

My flesh does err,
my feet do stray.
You clean my soul,
pure white from gray.

I trust Your love;
it never leaves.
It won’t be nabbed
by any thieves.

And when my doubt
rears its cold head,
I’ll pray to You
for filling bread.

My sin won’t cease,
but nor will grace.
Of Your kindness
I’ll speak always.

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Makeshift hearts
cast on the fly
may drift apart,
and make us cry.

Separate lakes,
but the same lines.
Love, it takes,
yet gives us signs.

We finally caught
up to the sun,
just like we ought
to have already done.

Our future roads
might bring us close,
the compact odes
through which we pose.

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Love, Triumphant

Bless this day on which
love has triumphed.
The sun shares its light
without prejudice.

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Animal Crackers

There it was: the box I hadn’t noticed
since I was a kid,
sitting on the shelf between similar
but less familiar snacks.

The red, yellow, blue of the front
the same from years ago,
along with the slender string
for a handle.

Arriving home, I poured a generous glass
of two percent milk
and went to sit at the dining room table,
exactly the way I used to

enjoy the crackers when I was a boy,
in between games
of tag and hide-and-seek
with my sister.

Opening the thin cardboard of the box,
and then the bag,
I finally caught the slightest whiff of vanilla,
and I could again hear

my sister counting down from thirty
as I tried to find
the best place
to hide from her

(which was the usually-empty cupboard
below the kitchen sink, in case you’re wondering).
With the warmth of the spring sun
trickling in through the cracks in the blinds,

I submerged the first cracker,
a giraffe, in the cold milk,
waiting for it to become a bit soggy
like I had always preferred.

Taking the initial bite,
I allowed the pieces of the animal
to rest on my tongue, savoring
the subtle sweetness of the cracker

harmonizing with the creaminess
of the milk.
I then proceeded to consume
the remaining circus

of graham animals in one sitting,
enjoying the memories
they had brought back to me,
as I, now twenty-five years old,

reveled in the simple pleasures
of being a child,
if only
for part of an hour.

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Sleep’s Number

Comfort is the bottle of cherry wine I’ve sought,
drinking until the heavy warmth pulls me under.
This is the wool blanket for which I’ve not fought,
smashing the keys, trying to dial sleep’s number.

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Let the piano carry me away.
I’d like to wander in the music.
Every note is another stone
by which I cross these waters.

I tread carefully, because drowning
inside a song wouldn’t do much good;
best to dip my toes in one at a time
so as not to be severed from reality.

And then I hear it, her voice
descending the curved stairway,
lovelier than any instrument
as she calls my name. My name!

Of all the people here, it’s my name
she’s calling! Which lucky star was it
that decided to bestow its light
so liberally upon my grayish soul?

Even though the dust is now visible,
I find she isn’t turning to leave, but
getting closer. Her hands touch
the soot, sweeping all of it away

with the exception of the particles
that make me beautiful. My soul again
is black on white, and then I realize
the movements of her fingers

aren’t just meant to cleanse my soul,
but to play the song it was destined for.
The music I walked through was my own;
I only needed someone to teach me the notes.

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The notebook you often write in
has become my home, my vessel.
Outside pages I’m so frightened
of permanence rather than pencil.

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You swear it won’t happen again,
but even now I see your grin.
You’ve stolen all I’ve ever been;
craving more, the same old sin.

We’ve talked it over many times,
built up boundaries, and drawn lines.
You cross as if everything’s fine,
your bravery coming from your wine.

I deserve much better, I know I do;
to be treated with love, and kindness, too.
Perhaps that’s a lot to ask of you,
seeing as how you like twisting the truth.

The red in your face, it’s a burning fire;
hatred-laced, gorged with desire.
Your thirst for blood will never expire,
a scheming killer up for hire.

I need to escape your prison arms,
but your loaded guns are loyal guards.
I’ve become immune to oily charms,
and now you’ve shown me all your cards.

The only things holding me back
are your constant threats and mean attacks.
But when I’ve made up for what I lack,
you’d better be gone, on a different track.

I pray in tearful syllables each night,
though I’m growing stronger with every fight.
I don’t notice the darkness, only light,
for I know God will guide me through my plight.

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