Faith and Contentment

This year I have two words: faith and contentment. 2012 brought many trials and tribulations as well as some celebratory moments.  Everything that happens to us shapes who we are. We can let them crush us or make us stronger. I want to have faith that my life will continue in a positive path. I also want to feel content with whatever life gives me. I always try to be positive, but sometimes life throws me a curve that I wasn't expecting. “The greater part of our happiness or misery depends upon our dispositions, and not upon our circumstances.” - Martha Washington.

Tears

It is difficult to express my feelings after the events of Friday.  We were all touched by what happened. I spent the weekend glued to my television trying to comprehend. On Monday, I walked into my school and wanted to hug every single child. We will never be the same again.

Work

Most of the time, writing is cathartic.  However, as any writer knows, writer's block is frustrating.  This poem is about that feeling.

Before me, scarlet canvas,

Darkened with agony,

Dripping from this brow.

Blurred consequences compound.

No remark in place.

Voices mute in distant thoughts,

Echoed from obscurity.

My pounding heart

Lying impotent on this slab,

Drowning tender quill.

Butterflies

Butterflies wake up

And flutter through the day,

In and out of lives,

In and out of dreams.

The world’s burdens

Hang on their wings

And fall far away.

Words of a thousand poets

Drift along on the butterfly.

Its wings allow imaginations to soar.

They let us live forever.

Bayou Morning

Where the trees
Drape over the murky waters,
The winds caress the moss.
The cicada chorus grows
Louder, louder, louder,
Then silence and begin again.
Along the bank,
The blue heron stands majestically,
Peering across the rippling water.
The early morning reflects the light
On the teardrop dew,
Opening its eyes to the day.

Don't Give In

Recently, teen suicide has been an unfortunate conversation in my home.  It is scary that it can happen without parents being aware.  Even a teenager's friend doesn't realize the finality of it.  Sometimes kids cry out for help in such dangerous and destructive ways.  Keeping an open dialogue between parents and teens is so important.  This poem is to all of those teens who feel that there is no hope.

Don’t give up.

Your youth has so much to give.

The future knows,

What the present does not.

Shadows that now loom,

Will disappear as you grow

And find your place in this world.

So don’t give up,

Don’t give in

To the darkness that calls you now,

Because ahead is brightness.

Slow Me Down, Lord

Slow me down, Lord.

Let me inhale the air you’ve supplied.

Put stress and troubles aside.

Slow me down, Lord.

I want to close my eyes,

And let worries say their good-byes.

Slow me down, Lord.

Let the moments stay longer,

To make my life stronger

For days ahead.

Virtual Life

I notice more and more people sitting in front of computer screens, and they don't connect with people. This is a poem that I wrote about on the subject.

Virtual Life

People glare at a speechless screen,

Ignoring those around,

Tap, tapping away.

Waiting for response from faceless words,

They gaze thoughtlessly

As the world around them revolves.

They do not realize the speed of life.

Interaction with flesh is sparse.

People claim they live,

But they just sit, mindlessly clicking,

Only a virtual life exists, suspended.

Changes

I think as we get older, we remember things that happened in the past differently.  This is something that I wrote after thinking about that.

Pictures in my mind

Change things in the past.

Moments that happened

Are a fragmented haze.

My body remembers

What never occurred.

Nothing is etched forever.

 

 

 

Hero in All of Us

I feel that everyone needs to hear that they are special.  Each person has a talent and uniqueness that needs to be appreciated.

Hero in All of Us 

Each one of us,

Whether we realize it or not,

Have that being inside us

That contains

The bravery

The inspiration

The strength

To do anything

To conquer anything.

But for some,

It is buried so deep

By other’s opinions and voices

That causes fear and doubt.

Sometimes

One moment of encouragement

Is all that it takes

To reveal the hero

That was always there.

Forgiveness

I recently realized the freedom that comes with giving forgiveness.  This poem was inspired by that realization.

Forgiveness 

Forgiveness

Is a gift

So difficult to give.

But without it,

We allow anger

To eat away at us,

And leave bitterness.

Forgiveness

Sets us free.

Hurricane

We were lucky enough to be spared any damage from Hurricane Isaac.  Living in south Louisiana, I have been through too many hurricanes.  During the storm, I remembered the worst storm that I experienced, Hurricane Andrew, which hit 20 years ago.  My family and I decided to ride out the storm in a shelter in town. This is a poem inspired by that experience.

Hurricane 

The winds blow,

Silently, at first.

Then branches sway

Harder and farther.

The sound of the wind

Whistles and grows louder

With time.

Rain falls sideways

From the wind.

Wind chimes

Are no longer soothing

As the wind becomes stronger.

Refugees in darkness

Listen to the violent wind

As it throws debris

Across the landscape.

Forces so strong,

Walls tremble.

Then a quiet calm

Gives the illusion of the end,

But it is only an interruption

As the storm surges again.

Rise From the Earth

As many in the southeast, I am waiting for Isaac.  I pray that everyone will stay out of harm's way through this storm.  On the other hand, it leaves me with time to think and finish poems that I have started. Thi is one of those poems.

Rise from the Earth 

I rise from the earth

Like the redwood

And feel the breeze on my face.

After so much downfall,

I’m finally feeling the triumph

Of a thousand kings.

The rays of the sun

Shine on my face

And grant me all of the hope

That I’ve waited for a lifetime.

Notes

I really enjoy listening to music.  Songs give me a plethora of ideas for some of my poems. The lyrics of some songs are poems themselves. Sometimes, the melody of a song helps me create my own poem. This poem is about my love of music.

Notes

With the melody, I am reborn.

It is the drug that helps me live.

Each note caresses my ears

And sweeps across my soul

Until I can’t catch my breath.

Colors are brighter with the rhythm.

Moments are sweeter.

Without these notes,

My days are empty and lifeless.

Web

One morning, as I was sitting on my back porch, I saw a spider web. It gave me the idea for this poem.

Web 

Lines intricately drawn,

This work of art,

Glimmers in the morning light.

Beads of morning dew

Dangles from this delicate design

That stretches across branches.

Created with such effort,

It is truly a wonder of nature.

The look of frailty

Hides the strength

That can snare and hold

The maker’s prey.

Tightrope

Sometimes, we feel like we are struggling with every day events. A friend jokingly asked if I needed therapy after reading one of my darker poems. I told her that writing is my therapy. This is what inspired this poem.

Tightrope 

Echoes from the string exude

As each moment slips

Into the depths of obscurity.

Blisters conjugate on this space;

The mass catching tears.

Swinging the line,

Balance loses its grasp,

Slowly letting each chance go,

Sinking into the emptiness

Below the tightrope.

Driving in the Dark

I keep having this dream where I'm driving in the total darkness. I was discussing this with a friend, and she said that it had to mean something. Of course, I Googled it and found out that it meant that I am fearful of the future and what it holds.  The whole experience gave me an idea for the following poem.

Driving in the Dark 

Driving through the darkness,

No headlights to aid me,

I head toward the unknown.

My eyes are wide open,

But only a black sheet

Drapes my view.

I have no clue where I am steering

In this abyss that stands before me.

Uncertainty slams this windshield.

Am I moving toward destiny or disaster,

Fate or failure?

I must keep driving

To discover the answer.

Canon

After listening to Pachelbel's Canon in D Major I wrote this poem.

Canon

Notes drop like spring rain
On a tranquil pond,
Into a trickling stream
That beholds the harmony.
Cellos chant deeply,
Almost silently,
Beneath the chorus of violins.
The bows sweep sweetly
Over the tender strings
Like a feather in the breeze.
Each note answers the other
In passionate vows mingled together.
The crystal clear canon sings,
Romancing the nearest ears.

Words

I'm experimenting with form, and this is what I came up with.

Words 

My words

          Are too heavy

                    To be carried by the wind.

                             They crash to the ground

                                       And scream through

                                                The dead silence.

                                       I cannot articulate

                              These thoughts

                   That suppress me.

          I want my words to linger

And fly like the angels.

                              

Cool

I thought that this was a little different than my usual style. A pair of sunglasses inspired this poem.

Cool

You strut around

Trying to look cool.

Attempting to impress,

You’re only a fool. 

Take off those shades

And show your face.

Your air of confidence

Is seriously misplaced. 

Arrogance is your enemy,

Not your friend.

The way you wear it,

Will hurt you in the end.

Globe

I don't know how often I'll be able to post when school starts, so I'm posting often now.  I am going to try to inspire myself to write through this busy and insane school year. I'm being optimistic.  Anyway, I wrote this poem a long time ago. It's kind of dark, but a lot of my poem seem to go there.  It's not like my normal outgoing personality.

Globe

Fragmented in this sphere.

Suspended in the universe.

Echoes of endless ticking

Suffocated by hands

That control my existence.

Drowning in this whirlpool

Of self-inflicted wounds,

I grasp the preservation

Only to expire

In this river of labor.

Concrete Angels

I was inspired by photographs taken of angels that reminded me of cemetaries.

Concrete angels watch

As I pray on my knees

In the midday sun.

With my fingertip,

I trace etched names on marble,

Trying to feel loved ones again.

My memory unfolds to happy times

That comfort my heart.

Beyond the silence,

Bells toll in the distance.

Heaven hears me weep,

And its breezes dry my tears.

Even though I see no one,

I am aware that I’m not alone,

Wrapped in love.

The Writer

The Writer

The parchment

Only captures

Fragments of my thoughts,

But it clings to

All of the blood

That the pen

Wastes away

On barren white.

Tin Roof Blues

I was inspired by a shower to write this poem.  At first, I write it with no rhyme, and it didn't feel right. So I decided to trying a rhyming verse, and this is the result.

Tin Roof Blues

I get the blues when it rains,

Pitter patter on my rooftop.

The shower mades a song of its own

With the rap of every drop.

The curtain of rain

Falls gently on the street,

As drops dance in sync

On the steaming concrete.

Down from the rooftops,

Water flows and spills.

Excepts for the rain outside,

All is still.