Dog beds litter the room.
Cats are running down the hall,
Banjo’s knocking on the door.
Is that Frasier on the wall ?
Little Norm is hiding now.
Squeaking, tearing, Banjo’s playing,
Little eyes watch from the couch.
There’s Sunny, snoring, sleeping.
Laundry calls out to me,
But the dogs are fighting.
It’s clear I need to end the night,
Turn down all the lighting.
The cats are waking up,
The dogs are snuggled in,
Conversations with my love,
Then I’m off too Deep Sleep Inn.
I found a stack of papers from my high school days. I love finding these old notes and sketches. I remember myself during those high school years as if I were a child, not myself. Not myself as I am now. I see her as so hopeful, but she was alone a lot. These words and drawings she created were truly blessings in keeping her occupied. I am grateful to God for the inspiration. Anyway… moving on. I found this one poem, it was short. I might have been 16 or 17, there’s not a date on this sheet of paper. The original poem is a little bland, but powerful to me because I understand what she wanted to describe. So I have rewritten it. It makes me smile as it must have all those years ago. Thank you, young Elizabeth.
How can I explain His love for me?
It is like I am surrounded by shimmering pillars
How I imagine lighthouses look during a bright, starry night
A light coat of snow across a forest of evergreens,
The trees silhouetted against the falling sun
His love for me casts shade when the sun scorches my skin
His love wraps around me when the frozen ground chills me
He is my paradise, my hope, my joy
To think He died so I could find Him, could arrive home
How can I explain His love for me?
If I were to fall apart,
Disintegrate,
Evaporate,
And join the ever after,
Do not look for me
Resist calling out my name
I am not here!
Nor am I there,
You may find me in the light
In the perfect paradise
But you will have to know the way
…The desperate plea of a soul.
I like to dig up very old poetry and make it better. I’ve been rewriting my poems and stories for so long, that I haven’t written anything new. I’m finding it difficult to start.
Whenever that would happen, I would start off with whatever lame line I could think of. I’d write one or two lines, sometime more, before finding the soul. Then those sad, introductory lines are deleted forever. No thank you, no gratitude for choppy, sad letters.
Let’s try one now and see if I can keep the first couple of lines?
—
The rust, The storm, Listening to the lyrics of a sad man.
Why do we idolize and leech from disappointing spirits?
Or is it admiration for the talent we wish to wield?
There is a tinge of jealousy among the inspiration.
I weave my disappointment with a joyous word,
in hopes my joy will overcome the frown.
And it always does. This joy creates a large smile,
My strength stems from the feeling of accomplishment.
No frown, no despair can hold me very long.
When the bitter pull of jealousy crumbles you,
smile through it, keep smiling until you’re
standing above the puddle of self-hatred
You are bigger than the sticky grime of society.
And there is one who gives this joy. Find Him.
In silence we learn who we need to be,
What we must do to stay unchanged.
Our thoughts spread out the strategy
In unison, we nod. We wait for their order.
Their lie to pacify the weak.
Do they know our minds communicate?
We are not alone. You are not alone.
Rise against the false sincerity!
Silence can challenge even the sharpest glance.
In our silence we will shake the universe,
it will break, then they will hear the sound of strength.
Playing with words again. Is it control I am looking for? Is it the pain in disappointing poetry I seek?
I spent a lot of time here once, just for them to be erased. Removed, but not truly. They are constant in this mind, I just need to learn how to draw them out.
Music. Notes. The voice of an angel.
The moon, my obsession, asked me a question.
Where can a soul find peace?
Through the angelic voice of the holy ghost?
Listen closely, my dear friend.
Moving through my home and following
My entangled thoughts, it removes the knots
Stretches the strained heart and
Pushes the body forward into
The crippling light.
That bright beaming smile
Pulls the strings of the objects around me
While in my hands I hold strings connected to my back.
How often have I given them away?
Peace settles in as they are handed to the Holy one.
A lesson relearned daily, as I commute through blurred crowds
Strength has only risen when my soul has danced with the innocent light.
There’s too much in a mind.
Too many thoughts that can not be verbalized.
A long path through a misty hill,
Tall grass, and fireflies, a natural light
and we walk for days.
For hours all we see is the dim light of a rising sun
and there are the eyes of a friend.
The burning hope in a Savior.
A long walk and we break through the dense mist
to see a forever in this temporary mess.
To listen to a sweet sound, and view eternity.
I met him when I was six. They ran and played together. I sat alone and wrote in my diary. I wrote books that I could never finish. I’d illustrate the cover, and give it a title. I’d number all the pages and make sure the book was sturdy before ever giving thought to the words needed. I’d save the story for last. Too often I would write a story and leave out the middle and end.
“Don’t worry little book,” I’d say, “I’ll finish you someday.”
But I never did. I never did finish that little book about my dog and my cat. I started several new ones, never to have an end. I met him as a child, we left him soon after, but he remained a reminder of a pleasant time in my life. Seeing him much later, threw me back into the days that my family was whole and happy. It was a warm, sad feeling. My mind loves to wonder and wander and write my life away. What I write is true.
The image of a lonely child climbing up a tree. She sits upon it content, because she is free. She waits for her savior to bring her home, and take away the feeling of being left alone.
I’m digging through I few poems I logged away. Here’s one more for today:
—
I am alone with my thoughts.
I blink,
and there is the image of pastures wide and fenced, where my animals can play
I blink,
and I see my home, and a long lost soul standing beside me, watching life glow
I blink for a moment and see comfort,
But the moment is always fleeing.
It runs from my reach and in its place –
Is the ceiling fan…
The grass is gone, my pets have vanished, and I’ve no one to call my soul mate.
Sometimes I blink and in that short moment
Live a fuller life.
So much more to say.
One night of thinking
Resulted in a short, sweet dream
Where I could see your expression,
If only for a moment.
It was a good moment.
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