Tag Archives: Truth

What Shall I Do?

Shall I watch you
drink the Kool-aid
when the nectar’s
free for all

Shall I watch you
peer into the abyss
when I can see
you’ll surely fall

Shall I watch you
pour water in your tank
when I’m certain
it’ll make you stall

Shall I watch you
attempt to escape
when there’s danger
beyond the wall

Or shall I warn you?

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A Conversation with My Fearful Self

This poem was inspired by the April 16 prompt from The Daily Poet by Kelli Russell Agodon & Martha Silano. The prompt was to write a conversational poem in which alternating stanzas were two speakers in a conversation. I decided to write a conversation with myself.

A Conversation with My Fearful Self

I can’t wait for the conference
It’s going to be so much fun
I’m so glad Ginger wants to go with me
I’ll text her about picking her up and
see what she wants from Kyra’s Bakery

Ginger hasn’t texted me back
I’ll bet she doesn’t even want to go
to the conference with me at all

What? Ginger does so want to go
to the conference with you
She is just as excited about it as you
I’ll bet she just didn’t see your text

It’s been two days, of course she has
I’ll bet she hasn’t answered
because she’s trying to figure out
how to get out of going

That’s ridiculous! You know she wants to go
I’m sure she’s just been busy
or the text got buried
amongst a bunch of other texts
and she didn’t even see it

I’m just sure she doesn’t want to go
At least not with me
She’s probably trying to find
someone else to go with

Enough of that nonsense!
Just email her and ask

Fine, I’ll email her
but she won’t answer my email either

See, I told you so
Ginger emailed you back
and the only reason she didn’t answer before
is because she couldn’t decide
what kind of cupcake she wanted

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I Believe

At dVerse Poets Pub today Anna calls us to think about our diaphanous diction, the words we love and are drawn to, and the type of poetry we normally write. The word “beloved” immediately came to mind. It’s one I use a lot and will continue to use because it describes my very being in a way no other word can.

In thinking about the type of poetry I write, I have been accused of too often focusing on the things of God. But I find that is where my heart is, where I dwell as beloved.

I Believe

I believe
I am beloved
I believe
with all my heart

I believe
You are God
Creator of the universe
and this earthly planet I trod

I believe
You are compassion
Died for me so I could live

I believe
Your Word is truth
My source of life and love

I believe
I am beloved
Because You declare it
in Your Word

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The Sound and the Silence

Deafening
Hammer on nails
Pounding pounding pounding
A tear falls

Deafening
Jeers and insults
Taunting taunting taunting
A prayer replies

Deafening
Darkness and earthquake
Trembling trembling trembling
A price is paid

And then silence

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Like Santa Ana Winds

The Poetic Winds of March are blowing over at dVerse Poets Pub today. Kathleen Everett has challenged to write about the wind or to use the wind as a character or presence. I decided to combine my two favorite winds in this poem. The first is the Santa Ana winds of my youth in California. Although they could be dangerous because they fueled wildfires, I loved them.

Like Santa Ana Winds

As the arid Santa Ana winds
sweeping across
the hot California landscape
embrace me
warm my skin and to my core
feels like heaven

So does Your Holy Spirit
sweeping through
my cold inner heartscape
embrace me
warm the depths of my soul
promises heaven

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The Beginnings of a Poem

This is the beginning of a poem I’m sharing for Meeting the Bar at dVerse Poets Pub, following the Oulipo option from Anna. Playing with language and poetry rules, I’m writing a poem with the following self-imposed rules:

  1. It’s a Terza Rima with 26 stanzas plus the ending line
  2. It’s in the style of a Hebrew acrostic, like Psalm 119, so that each stanza begins with a successive letter of the alphabet—in this case, the English alphabet
  3. Each stanza begins with a name or characteristic of God
  4. Each line is 7 syllables, because 7 is the number of perfection
  5. The first line and the ending line end with the word “love” because God is love

Anyway, it’s not finished. It’s much more than a 48-hour project. But I wanted to share what I have so far, the first 7 stanzas, and get some feedback. One thing I can’t decide is whether to use “Thy, Thee, and Thou” throughout or the more modern “You and Your.” This version uses Thy, etc.

Oh, and it doesn’t have a title yet. Here it is.

Adonai, my Lord of love
How I long to see thy face
Alight on me, Holy Dove

Bread of Life, strength for the race
Thy Word, my faith sustain me
Resting, resting on Thy grace

Creator, who made the tree
Sun and moon, all life, mankind
Thou gave us but one decree

Deliverer, oh so kind
Even though I break Thy law
Giving sight when I am blind

Elohim, I kneel in awe
Before Thy majestic throne
In Thee is nary a flaw

Father, mercy Thou hast shown
To Thy undeserving child
Though to wander I am prone

Good Shepherd, meek and mild
Keep me in Thy safe lockup
Bring me back when I’m beguiled

 

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Hate Never Wins

Cain killed his brother Abel
with a rock because of hate
But in the end
Cain didn’t win

Hate never wins

Pontius Pilate killed Jesus
had him crucified and buried
But in the end
Pilate didn’t win

Hate never wins

Caligula killed for pleasure
was a truly evil emperor
But in the end
Caligula didn’t win

Hate never wins

Ivan the Terrible killed his own son
in a fit of characteristic rage
But in the end
Ivan didn’t win

Hate never wins

Hitler killed the Jews and more
in gas chambers and by firing squad
But in the end
Hitler didn’t win

Hate never wins

Saddam Hussein killed all opposition
reigning terror on the nation he led
But in the end
Hussein didn’t win

Hate never wins

Pol Pot killed a million Cambodians
by starvation, imprisonment, and murder
But in the end
Pol Pot didn’t win

Hate never wins

Francois Duvalier terrorized Haiti
assassinating many, leaving them poor
But in the end
Duvalier didn’t win

Hate never wins

Idi Amin killed fellow Ugandans
by torture and executions
But in the end
Amin didn’t win

Hate never wins

Islamic extremists kill Christians,
Hindus, Muslims who don’t agree with them
But in the end
They won’t win

Hate never wins

Even when the battle is lost
Hate never wins its war against love

 

The prompt over at dVerse Poets Pub today is to write a poem against terrorism. Head over and check out the other offerings by poets standing up for what is right.

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My Schedule

I wrote this poem last Saturday during a poetry workshop at the Oregon Christian Writers’ 1-day winter conference. The assignment, if you will, was to write a poem similar to one titled “Holiday Concert” by Maryann Corbett. This is what I came up with. And when I read it to the group, it made me cry.

My Schedule

He needs my help; I don’t have time
I’m too busy with Bible study lessons,
calling all my ladies, leaving voicemails
They don’t want to talk
But he does, he needs me

He needs my help, my love, my advice
But there’s laundry to do, poems to write
Groceries to buy—milk, eggs, more canned goods
just like the ones already in the pantry
I’m just too busy, it never ends

He needs my help; I promise “tomorrow”
or the next day, but there’s a conference
I simply must attend, and a poem to write
and a funeral to drive to in another state,
and then work. Still he waits, patiently

But I wonder, does he know how much
I love him so, I want to help him
to listen to his woes, to encourage him
Once I’m done paying the bills and
doing the taxes and sorting the mail

One day I’ll look back and wonder why
he wasn’t a bigger part of the endless
schedule of less important things

3/10/15 Update: Linked this today for the Poetics prompt at dVerse Poets Pub where Anthony is calling for confessions. This seemed to fit.

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The Cost

We’re jousting over at dVerse Poets Pub today as the tournament continues. The challenge is to take one line from either Brian’s or Claudia’s poem, posted there, and write a new poem with that one line included. I cheated a little and took the last two lines of Brian’s poem to create this one.

The Cost

I need no reminder
the cost.

I see it in the grieving faces
of the mourners as his funeral.

I see it in the furrowed brow
of a mother whose child is behind bars.

I see it on the network news
night after bloody night.

I see it in the mirror
looking at a life that could have been
but was delayed, hindered by disobedience and fear.

The cost of disobedience,
of “freedom” that isn’t truly free,
but a prison, as we become slaves to sin.

I need no reminder
the cost.
Still I’m reminded every day.

And then I recall the cost
He paid
to redeem what is lost.

To us the cost is consequences;
to Him the cost was to give His all
to save us from the ultimate cost.

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The Honor of the King

I’m jousting for His honor
I’m jousting for my King
I willingly wear His armor

As bride I wear His ring
It is He who defends
Of His great love I sing

To the throne He ascends
The vict’ry isn’t mine
When the enemy offends

With my King I’ll dine
Once He has won the fight
We’ll feast on bread and wine

All hail His strength and might
All hail His grace and light

 

The prompt at dVerse Poets Pub today was revealed a day early. We’re having a medieval tournament to celebrate the passing of the Pub keys from Brian and Claudia to Bjorn. So I’ve taken the tournament theme and written a terza rima sonnet of sorts about jousting.

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