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Category Archives: Poems

“Poetry is a packsack of invisible keepsakes.” -Carl Sandburg

Imagination’s Lament

Imagination’s Lament

An old poem of mine. I put it into a collection of poems for my family and friends a couple years ago, and my good friend Tori drew a gorgeous picture for it, which I love and enjoy showing off.

You were here again today,

In my world, so far away

From yours.

So far away, yet so near

To everything that you hold dear.

Not me…

It’s hard to see the sky some days.

Without you it’s the gloomy grey

Of clouds.

Remember how we used to be?

We played and laughed, so carefree

And young.

Now you grow old, leave me behind

For you have someone else you’ll find

Somewhere.

I’m nothing but a fleeting fancy,

A pastime for when you grew antsy

Before.

I always wished that I was more –

But you just went and closed the door

On me.

You’re leaving now, you think forever

But this time I think I know better

Than you.

You’ll be back again someday

Here in this world so far away

With me.

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Posted by on May 8, 2015 in From My Pen, Poems

 

And Then You Dance

I wrote this last September, thinking about different occasions that call for dancing. One morning in Mdumbi I read it out loud, accompanied by Nathan R, a pastor who was visiting our outtatown site. It was an experience that will never be replicated, and I’m very grateful I got that opportunity.

Today is good.

You’re sitting with a picture book

teddy in your lap –

this is the life.

And it comes to you slowly,

filters into your mind;

you stand up and catch your balance,

and then you dance:

You spin and you giggle,

you jump and you twist,

you headbang and air-drum,

and at the end all-fall-down

with laughter and smiles.

 

Today is good.

You’re walking, just wandering,

sun on your face –

feeling alive.

And it sneaks up just quiet,

you find yourself humming;

you throw your head back and arms out

and then you dance:

You spin and you giggle,

you jump and you twist,

you headbang and air-drum,

and slowly spin to a stop.

This is beauty and joy.

 

Today is good.

Vows are being solemnly said,

happy tears in your eyes –

the start of a new life.

And it’s just there, but not sudden,

you stop talking to listen;

you reach out hands to be held

and then you dance:

You spin and you giggle

you jump and you twist

you headbang and air-drum,

and after one song, the next,

and long-lasting joy.

 

Today is good.

You’re just doing dishes,

soap-suds on your hands –

this is life.

And it’s been on all evening,

but this song is different;

you shake your hand dry

and then you dance:

You spin and you giggle,

you jump and you twist,

you headbang and air-drum,

and then, back to dishes,

just a break in routine.

 

Today is pretty good.

You’re just driving home,

ache in your heart –

but you’re still alive.

And it hits you like a freight train,

that song that is theirs

you have to pull over and climb out

and then you dance:

You spin and you giggle,

you jump and you twist,

you headbang and air-drum,

and crumple to the ground

with bittersweet tears.

 

That Day will be Good.

You’ll finally be Home,

Love will surround you –

You’ll be truly alive.

And it will be sudden

yet not unexpected,

you’ll bask in His presence

and then you will dance:

You’ll sing and you’ll giggle,

you’ll jump and you’ll twist,

you’ll headbang and air-drum,

and when you can’t dance you’ll sing:

and this Forever.

 

 
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Posted by on May 8, 2015 in From My Pen, Poems

 

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Blank Pages

You know that feeling when somebody places a clean sheet of paper in front of you? Or when you open a notebook or sketchbook and flip to a brand new page, where nobody has left their mark yet? It feels like anything could happen between now and the time that page is full. Empty paper is welcoming, but intimidating. It waits on you to do something. When I have a blank page, I write about it.

Blank Page

Blank pages are for sorrow,

pouring from a pen.

Blank pages are for saying things

worth saying again.

Blank pages are for random thoughts,

whatever comes to mind.

Blank pages are for writing down

a past you left behind.

Blank pages for remembering

or trying to forget.

Blank pages are for writing

to a friend you’ve never met.

Blank pages are for poems,

glimpses of your heart.

Blank pages are for fixing that

that’s tearing you apart.

Blank pages are for fingerpaints,

or wonders from skilled hands.

Blank pages for adventures

found in distant lands.

Blank pages for new music,

beauty to the ear.

Blank pages for resolutions

on the eve of the New Year.

Blank pages are the future,

a welcome open door.

Blank pages are possibilities

you’ve never seen before.

 
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Posted by on June 17, 2014 in From My Pen, Poems

 

Stuck

In the interest of filling up this blog a bit and making it look inhabited, have a poem. 

This poem was really fun to write and it’s quite silly. It seems once you start writing poetry, you can’t stop. That’s why this happens:

Stuck

I am stuck in poetry.

Sticky, muddy poetry.

It’s poetry not-in-motion,

poetry in puddles.

 

I’m six inches deep in

words of wisdom.

My pen is seven deep in letters.

My notebook is splattered with raindrop-verses.

 

I started off in sunshine

now I’m writing in the rain.

My rambles were full of joy

now my sky is cloudy grey.

 

I’m stuck in poetry

quicksand, grainy poetry.

Twelve inches deep in sad words

drowning in depression.

 

I’m sick of, stuck in poetry

and I can’t escape the words.

 

I’m stuck in poetry

sucked into the current

dragged down into the mud.

I’m stuck in poetry

pulled in by words

held by verse.

 

I’m stuck in, stuck in

a poem

AND IT WON’T LET ME OUT!

I’m stuck slogging through poetry

I’m -help me!- stuck in poetry.

I’m stuck in solid poetry,

I’m stuck, I’m stuck…

 

 
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Posted by on June 17, 2014 in From My Pen, Poems

 

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