Hello!
I won’t be posting on Poetry Ponderings anymore. I’ve started a new blog, Stars & Stories, for all of my writings: stories, poetry, ramblings, thoughts, etc. However, I will keep this blog up so it will remain viewable. I just won’t be posting here anymore. Click HERE to go to the new blog.
If you have any questions, drop a comment below. 🙂
i really like watching the sky over the water.
i really like
colors swirling before my eyes,
the wind against my face and
sand between my toes.
silence and crashing waves somehow create
a melody i would be happy to lose myself in.
i really like staring at the stars between moonlit branches.
i really like
the breeze whispering in my hair, a thick rope swaying across my vision,
threads beneath my fingers as the swing rocks from side to side.
stars smile down at me and i don’t dare move,
afraid to disturb some kind of unspoken balance;
a pounding rhythm deep within myself seems to sync in time with it.
i really like feeling a part of my Creator’s masterpiece.
i really like
just feeling like the miracle i am,
like the miracle that His artwork is.
i wish we could take some time to love that a little more.
i wish we could take some time to appreciate that a little more.
i wish we could take some time to try to understand that it’s a miracle.
despite your problems.
despite your stress.
despite whatever it is that drags you down.
because yeah, i know it drags you down, but…
you’re beautiful and
you’re a miracle and
you’re alive and
nothing in this world can change that.
you are who you are and it’s a thousand times prettier than the stars…
//i will make you believe you are lovely//
i.
tears fall like glass,
stabbing,
cold, searing,
eyes burning.
a stabbing coldness,
an intense fire,
a storm inside;
she feels so alive,
but suddenly her throat is numb.
fingers grasping for her face,
struggling to erase stains:
tear-tracks, makeup, folds and creases,
traits she would have changed if she was
the Maker–
but she doesn’t know
she couldn’t surpass the
perfection of her face, her hands,
her eyes, her figure, her smile,
the image she was molded in.
mirror girl taunts the image,
but mirror girl is a lie;
mirror girl reads only lies,
the rulebook drawn by a lying society,
a lying society that lies because of
the corruption inside, unfolding,
the bitterest darkness and pride
strangling light at the core.
ii.
humans are inclined to our hearts,
which are wild and untamed, and chase after so many things,
hungering for something to satisfy a hole inside,
a burning desire to be full, full, full.
we chase joy,
we chase peace,
we chase love,
and all the pretty things,
but also darkness in disguise,
as our hearts get confused sometimes
and consider maybe darkness is what we bleed,
what our hearts should be pumping.
we take our beautiful souls for granted,
but we also elevate them above our heads,
to places we have no rights to reach to,
heights we desire but
by what means do we plan to reach there?
she cries because her heart hurts;
she followed the lies and found herself here,
and no, this is not where she thought she would be.
now she is confused,
finding within herself a darkness she
honestly doesn’t want,
so she tries to chase it away by
pursuing other things,
thinking she could do this on her own,
she doesn’t need help,
she doesn’t need anyone,
and if she did there would be no one,
because she thinks she is all
a l o n e .
and really, this is another lie we fall for,
the lie we turn to,
whether out of pity or pain,
the whisper we draw close and our hearts
cry.
iii.
only,
my dear,
in the beginning…
in the beginning we were created out of love,
and our hole was created to be filled with love,
from the ultimate source of love.
we were created to belong to a God of l o v e ,
molded in His image to live in paradise and walk beside Him,
to love Him out of our own free will.
when everything fell apart,
He died so we wouldn’t have to,
knew unbelievable pain so we could
know unbelievable joy.
He separated Himself so
we could be close,
broke the barrier between us and
Love so we would never be
a l o n e .
we fight battles in the dark of the night,
icy tears and
fires in our souls,
but our fight is worth it because we’re
never alone.
iiii.
so she lifts her head to fight again,
lets her tears fall because sometimes
we just need to
unfold
and
let
g o .
but she refuses to give up,
laughs in the face
of the floods of darkness,
for the joy inside of her is unquenchable.
sometimes she falls apart,
but she always finds His promises true,
that He never leaves,
that He’s there to draw her close,
to take her broken pieces and
put them back together,
drawing the seams together with firm gold.
love always breaks through pain,
hope burns through fear,
joy dances through sorrow.
courage, dear heart,
in the midst of the blackest waves,
for your Shepherd
walks on water.
she has stories that fill her mind to the brim,
forlorn words that drift about and
overflow from her eyes.
she has whispers that keep her up at night,
memories that replay and regenerate,
but always she sees
people, people, real people, inexistent people,
people who laugh and talk and move in her mind’s eye.
threads and tendrils of life
spiraling about in her brain,
stray connections of colored patterns,
blank patterns that aren’t really patterns at all,
yet somehow her mind plays with even cold darkness.
she has musings she longs to
fit on the paper,
crush between letters and
soak through ink
but sometimes
even paper can’t handle her mind.
she lunges at wisps of brilliance,
or seemingly brilliance,
but they slip between the spaces in her mental fingers,
spaces she thought she had closed.
she wonders of so much
or so little, it seems to her.
sometimes her mind is chaos in a bottle,
swirling and twisting and turning and screaming and
she is the girl between the glass,
trying to cover her ears but it
doesn’t stop the thoughts —
thoughts and words and swirling twisting abstract figures that
somehow speak her language.
oh her mind is complicated,
her thoughts complicated,
her words complicated,
a chaotic rubble where she stands and seeks peace,
or the essence of peace.
her flesh does not know peace, true peace,
peace from a screaming mind fed by a
screaming world;
her soul thirsts for it.
she wanders for awhile,
lost and confused,
afraid of her own doubts,
until she hears a sound unlike all else.
hungry, hungry, she falls to her knees
crying God please,
calm the chaos, remove the madness.
hungry soul.
seeking eyes.
longing heart.
ancient pages of truth stirred by
trembling, searching hands.
another prayer.
a voice.
rest here, child.
in His arms
her raging storm is calm,
her chaotic mind is flooded with tranquility,
her soul is filled to the brim with peace.
suddenly her thoughts,
her words,
her stories,
have truly happy endings.
hard to stay awake.
bleary eyes and sing-song laughter.
curled up on the couch with the tv playing but
my head is playing even louder
replaying memories,
things,
2016 in a whirlwind
flashing through my mind
as my lips move to mouth
the words to the songs on the radio.
so many resolutions…
i twist my hair about my thumb
along with my thoughts.
i can’t stop thinking.
heart pounding.
watching family laugh and play games and
blossom new memories right now.
fireworks erupting out the window.
the sky alit with showering sparks
showering dreams
showering moments.
i close my eyes against the 2016
whirlwind
and open them to
2017,
the new year.
i don’t know
what’s in store.
i don’t know
what’s behind this door.
but i do know
my God is in control
so i can let go and embrace
the now, not the tomorrow
and the who, not the when.
i can embrace
2017 with
j o y .
God bless you! Happy New Year! ❤
i am sitting by the fire with my back against the wall
and the ice in my hair is beginning to thaw
the cocoa is hot against my lips;
watching it swirl, i am careful not to tip
the mug in my hands, my quite pale hands,
and with the sweater drawn to my fingers my breath expands
in a small cloud, for a brief instant,
and before it dissipates, i am consistent
to sip my drink and close my eyes
whilst listening to the fire’s snapping cries
i’ll stay awake for now to deem
this whimsical moment a winter daydream
I was listening
To the words
Strung along a melody,
Painted upon a canvas of silence,
Where an intricate pattern was woven and
Wrapped about my mind
I was listening
To the words
Which were honest words, raw words,
Words that penetrated deep inside
To place where I could hear them;
Flawed, in a sense, yet flawless
I was listening
To the words
That told of stories—
Trials and tribulation,
A journey well over a thousand steps—
Frozen in each simple sound
I was listening
To the words
That tell of us,
That tell of our lives
And of our God
I was listening
To the words
That reminded me of hope,
That reminded me of the journey,
That diverted my eyes from the distractions,
That reminded me of who I am
And who my God is
And why I am here
I was listening
To the words,
Words that
(Though written by a different hand)
Told parts of my story,
Extracted memories once locked away,
Sang a tune of which I had forgotten the lyrics
Because, as I walked,
I was listening
To the words
Of a song
I am grateful
When the sun is smiling upon my face
When the wind is calm and the waves are few
When the stars shine free and bold in the night sky
When the truth doesn’t hurt
When the world seems okay
When I feel so complete
I am grateful
When the sun is hidden behind the clouds
When the wind slaps across my face and the waves are fierce
When I can’t see the stars against a carpet of black
When the truth hurts
When the world is crumbling
When I feel I’m falling apart
I am grateful
In the midst of all circumstances
Because through it all
My eyes remain on You
I am grateful
In the eye of the storm
Because through it all
Your love breaks through
I am grateful
Night or day; rain or shine
Because through it all
Your promise is true
For even now, You are carrying me
Just like you always do
{Happy Thanksgiving! God bless you.❤️}
She was a wordcrafter,
For she gathered letters in her hands.
She liked to weave wreaths of them,
To encircle them about her neck, her head, in her hair.
It delighted her, the way they rolled on her tongue,
The way they fitted together to reveal a picture in her mind,
A picture she could enfold in the crimson pages of her memory and hold close to her soul.
She was the wordcrafter, the carpenter,
Only she worked alone with her hands, her heart, and the letters she gathered,
Fitting pieces together and
Singing along the melody they made.
People didn’t know that beyond every smile, every laugh, every tear,
That there were words in her head;
Wreaths of them, bundles of them, baskets of them,
Hidden nooks and crevices, hidden away inside where her collections abounded.
Sometimes she stayed up late at her desk,
Unwinding them, examining them, listening to the words and pondering over them,
Before she would mold them and open them deeper still, searching for meaning behind them,
Her meaning. Her words.
But once, they weren’t hers.
Once they were his.
She didn’t know him, didn’t know how he had gathered them before her,
Didn’t know how he too had held them, had unwinded them, had listened and pondered
Had thought they were his,
But before they were his they were another’s.
Once they belonged to the girl who didn’t understand,
The girl who cradled late night thoughts, who fought unknown battles,
Who stayed awake at night in the dark with a swirling mind until her words urged to spill out,
Raw words, bare and scraped devoid of lies, and there she began a journey.
Once they belonged to the boy with too much to say,
The boy who wished they would listen to his cries,
The boy who gathered words but left them there to collect dust on the shelves of his mind
Until he armed himself with a pen, a notebook, and there his puzzle unfolded.
Once they belonged to a woman with a powerful imagination,
A woman who locked them up beside her dreams in a cellblock of her mind,
A woman who crafted the bars with cold, sterile lies born to reality, and those words
Scratched at the tender lining of her soul until she finally listened.
Once they belonged to a man who discovered something new,
A man who found within himself a desire to share his joy with a broken world,
A man on a new path, a path to redemption, a man who found words in the darkest corners
Where he shined light upon them and there, he found beauty.
Once they belonged to me, the wordcrafter weaving myself into this great puzzle,
The wordcrafter who’s cracked open these words, examined them,
Breathed into them, listened to them, sewn them along the seams of my life,
And now I am holding them to you,
Wondering if you, too, are a wordcrafter.
now the breeze is cold when it plays with my hair, as i’m
drawing out my plans for tomorrow and watching orange leaves slip between the branches,
grabbing a frappuccino and wondering when the time will come for hot chocolate;
yesterday it was too chilly for me so I pulled out the fuzzy socks—
it’s sweater weather in the morning but hot by midday,
and suddenly i’m not dying from a heatstroke,
but i’m loving cool evenings on the swing, rocking gently from side to side, gazing through the gaps in the leaves of a great oak,
clinging to the warmth of the bonfire in the backyard, holding hands and laughing to the stars—
early sunsets, early sunrises….
this is a k i n d e r month.
NaNoers: “NOOOOOOO IT’S REALLY REALLY NOTTTTT.”
Me: *quietly hands you 10 hot chocolates*
Poetry Ponderings 