These


These ears

They’re not blind

They smell the poverty around them.

They taste the hunger

And feel the need

~

These Eyes

Oh! These eyes have never been deaf

To that most distinct scent

Of hurt and loss

And hopelessness

~

My senses aren’t numb

To the world’s great lack

I possess awareness

Of what I have

And others don’t

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

More than anything, I long to be here:

I long with all my heart to be in all these places, but I know that more than all of that, I want to be where God wants me to be. I don’t know where I will end up, but I do know this.

I am to radiate, to reflect, to spread God’s beautiful light as He refines my heart.

My poetry notebook.


I was looking through my poetry notebook this morning.

Here's proof if you don't believe me.

And I came across several poems I had forgotten about. Some of them were poems I had written during church…(I know. Pastor’s kid did what?!?!?) But before you start freaking out, I will add that they reflected the main points of the sermons during which they were written.

Now that your heart is functioning at a normal rate… I will continue.

While reading through, I was able to see poem sequences that all reflected a certain emotion, I also saw some fabricated emotion sequences, and even some poems where is was being completely honest about the way I felt. It was interesting to see the changes in style and rhythm according to mood.

Some of the ones I enjoy reading the most are the one that were written as sermon notes. They are the happiest of all my poems.

Such as this one:

Leave behind your earthly passions
But trust in Him whose love is true
 
Our minds aren’t pure or free of sin
But why are we satisfied in this?
 
This world does not hold success
So in full surrender we must live
 
He is conquerer of eternal death
An example for our sufferings
 
Committed to obedience
Living no more to this rotting flesh
 
Our sins are now behind us
Our bondage has fully slipped away
 
We are fully equipped to live
Let us not forget how to use our tools. 

I also enjoy laughing at the dark depressing mostly fabricated emotional angsty ones.

Like this one:

It’s easy to see the beauty
When the times are good
When things look bright
 
It’s easy to feel the love
When the conversation’s pleasant
When the knives are dull
 
It’s easy to hear the melody
When you’re standing upright
When you’re above the water 
 
It’s easy to utter the laughter
When all the jokes are funny
When you’re awake enough to think

I enjoy seeing the contrast and remembering when I wrote something. I also enjoy looking back and being astounded that God has given me such a gift.

How often does he get the thanks for your talents? In my life, I would have to say, not nearly enough.

 

What I think.


I think this:

In honor of almost reaching the 4500 ‘views-on-my-blog’ mark, I should have some super cool awesome giveaway…

I also think I should come up with some deep intellectual question that people really have to ponder.

In the end, this giveaway basically is a show of how much I appreciate my readers. I haven’t come up with anything to give away yet. Maybe it’ll be a Shel Silverstein book or something. I love Shel Silverstein. He inspires me.

I also think that spring is muy fabuloso.

And now a few notes from my favorite composer.

Give a big round of applause for Mr. Jon Schmidt

Sometimes…


Lovely weather calls for a happy poem… So  I wrote one. (Hey! Don’t be so surprised!)
 
Sometimes I wonder
If birds ever fly for fun
To feel the thrill of the wind
When all their work is done
 
Sometimes I think
They are swooping in pure glee
Or circling for enjoyment
But maybe that’s just me
 
Sometimes I feel
The sun’s contagious laughter
Warming me through and through
Leaving no desire for moments that might come after
 
Sometimes I see
The clouds dancing in the sky
Perfecting their graceful routines
To the music of the blue expanse so high.
 
Do you ever hear
The wind whispering in your ear?
Does it ever sing on
And say, “Have no fear.”?

Poetry in pictures


I love the sweet smell

Of freshly printed pages

How I love the sight

Of words neatly stacked against the odds

I love to hear the sound

Of pen scratching paper

I simply adore the taste

Of fresh ideas and pretzels

I love the way it feels

To write away my fears