Hope is meager and weak
While the world builds
Towers and sanctuaries
Hope offers no shelter
It is vulnerable like a sapling
Tender as green shoots
Breakable, fragile like eggs
Feeble and helpless like an infant
Stare at strength and you feel strong
Stare at hope and you feel weak
You look at Strength and wonder
What will it take to break you?
You look at hope and wonder
What will it take to make you thrive?
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Day 350, the storm
No blip on the radar
The dark angel wings
Of mourning spread, span over
Not cloud cover, but
A wall between us and the sun.
Not a storm of wind and rain
But the arid, dry cocoon
Of a godless womb.
The inevitable birth of
Hope, troubles small child
The tiny wailing lungs
The siren for the end of grief
The dark angel wings
Of mourning spread, span over
Not cloud cover, but
A wall between us and the sun.
Not a storm of wind and rain
But the arid, dry cocoon
Of a godless womb.
The inevitable birth of
Hope, troubles small child
The tiny wailing lungs
The siren for the end of grief
Friday, August 5, 2011
Day 349, 15 days left!!!
Be on the lookout, I'm going to be talking about a new, exciting, collaborative project coming in the fall. I can't wait. I'm all "poetried" out :) I'm also finally on a real computer today, thus the font formatting and image. As I type I still have no clue what to write about today. I'm happy and have the day off, girls night in a couple of hours with some good friends. Hard to feel angst or inspiration...
Once a ________ always a ________.
Who will you be when
you finish being no one?
You are you, you are Eustice.
scraping scales, you cry because
you can't stand the weight of your skin.
It takes a faith, a naked and raw certainty
that the you are not no one
that there is nothing
separating you from the salve and
ease of fresh skin. Claw all you want.
It will do no good.
It's the gentleness
of a lion's breath, the willingness to
face his wrath and mercy.
A simultaneous death and birth.
Where Never's voice is silenced
by the crashing, undulating always of infinity.
Once a ________ always a ________.
Who will you be when
you finish being no one?
You are you, you are Eustice.
scraping scales, you cry because
you can't stand the weight of your skin.
It takes a faith, a naked and raw certainty
that the you are not no one
that there is nothing
separating you from the salve and
ease of fresh skin. Claw all you want.
It will do no good.
You are always you but you have
never been you.It's the gentleness
of a lion's breath, the willingness to
face his wrath and mercy.
A simultaneous death and birth.
Where Never's voice is silenced
by the crashing, undulating always of infinity.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Day 348, who is she
She walks in a maze
Turn after turn looking
For an out, an ending
Dutiful and patient
She turns around
Starts again, always lost
But knowing right where she is
She is the epitome of
Modern woman, she has accepted
The twist and turns as her fate
Her secret...
She wants to be found
Saved, she hates the maze
She has this distant idea that
She was someone else before the maze
That that girl would know the way
She is certain there is an end to the maze
At least she needs to believe there is
She wanders, turns, prays, cries
Uses the soft green leaves for shade
Sheltered in her prison of what will be
Of a proper ending.
She hears the tinkling laughter of happy
Children outside the walls
She wants to laugh like that
Be with them, she stands still
Listens. Knows. There is no maze.
She has simply turned her life to walls
Ways to define and protect the insides
Of her being because
Outside the walls, outside the shade there is no shelter
No guarantees.
She knows. But she does not move.
Turn after turn looking
For an out, an ending
Dutiful and patient
She turns around
Starts again, always lost
But knowing right where she is
She is the epitome of
Modern woman, she has accepted
The twist and turns as her fate
Her secret...
She wants to be found
Saved, she hates the maze
She has this distant idea that
She was someone else before the maze
That that girl would know the way
She is certain there is an end to the maze
At least she needs to believe there is
She wanders, turns, prays, cries
Uses the soft green leaves for shade
Sheltered in her prison of what will be
Of a proper ending.
She hears the tinkling laughter of happy
Children outside the walls
She wants to laugh like that
Be with them, she stands still
Listens. Knows. There is no maze.
She has simply turned her life to walls
Ways to define and protect the insides
Of her being because
Outside the walls, outside the shade there is no shelter
No guarantees.
She knows. But she does not move.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Day 347, it's all about me
She's as honest as the sunrise
That dissappears on cloudy days
She's constant like the sea tide
High and low, on the go
She's forever and always
Never and sometimes
Forgettable but always on your mind.
Meek, mild easy to read
A curtained smile, a heart you can't see
Stubborn, short fused, hard to please
She's always the same in her contradiction
Contradictory with her sameness
Truth is no one knows but her
Truth is that's not totally true
Shed rather leave you guessing
Than guess what's known to you.
That dissappears on cloudy days
She's constant like the sea tide
High and low, on the go
She's forever and always
Never and sometimes
Forgettable but always on your mind.
Meek, mild easy to read
A curtained smile, a heart you can't see
Stubborn, short fused, hard to please
She's always the same in her contradiction
Contradictory with her sameness
Truth is no one knows but her
Truth is that's not totally true
Shed rather leave you guessing
Than guess what's known to you.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Day 346, no good word for it
I searched and
Searched
For a way to say
Just how hot it is
Every phrase I thought
To say contained an expletive!
It's desert like
I'll leave it there.
You'll find me air-conditioned
Because I do not like foul language
It's that kind of hot
Curse word hot!
Searched
For a way to say
Just how hot it is
Every phrase I thought
To say contained an expletive!
It's desert like
I'll leave it there.
You'll find me air-conditioned
Because I do not like foul language
It's that kind of hot
Curse word hot!
Monday, August 1, 2011
Day 345, Charlies poem!
Saving us
I like that
he built this house
God is goofy
(Charlie leans back and yells,
Hey God! God?)
Him not listens to me
He not hear us
He dropped a rib on his head
That's goofy
I love Him singing
In the sky.
I like that
he built this house
God is goofy
(Charlie leans back and yells,
Hey God! God?)
Him not listens to me
He not hear us
He dropped a rib on his head
That's goofy
I love Him singing
In the sky.
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