Wondering...

Why I've forgotten my pen

And it's stout comfort.

Why I revel in other silly,

Unimportant half-joys.

Why I've not let my heart

Pour out to my God?

My future...

Just thought I'd post this.. it's kind of silly, but it might make you laugh :)

This desperate child
With hair of brown,
Short and stout 
Disinclined to frown,
Will find within

Herself a dream
One that others

May have seen
She'll find a prince
And dance in the snow
And write away her days,
But she'll never grow.

Character Study

(I saw him at Barnes and Noble the other day... Shh! what, no, I'm not a stalker)

A uncouth swagger meets a civilized world as Frank walks into the bookstore with a dirty leather coat and naturally faded, old jeans. Ordinary books line the shelves, except for the un-ordinary ones here and there, and it is toward the latter that Frank feels an inclination of preference. He picks up Alien Wonders, flips through the pages, sets it back down, then keeps walking through the store.

What is he looking for?

Haha.. he was very strange. I still like to think about it. Very inspiring. Thank you, Frank, whoever you are :)

Poem: The Porcelain Cup

Written 5/14

Critique Welcome!

I hold a porcelain cup in my hand.

Hand-painted ivy twirls through

Dancing harps—

I can hear their music.

I can speak their language,

Silence.

Its lip curves toward mine.

This side has but slight irregularities,

Only visible when my eye draws it so near,

So very near,

That everything else blurs.

I hold the porcelain cup in my hand,

And ache for it to be complete

As it once was—

But now it is broken.

Even now it is crying,

“Let me be whole!”

Let mine fingers stroke its side,

Jagged and painfully unique

And I will drink my tea.

That awful tea,

From my beautiful, broken cup.

Haiku: Tree

Written 4/21

A bastion for birds

Freckled limbs restrain new life

Crooked, awkward limbs.

Known and Un-Known

Free verse, written 3/27/09

"Ready?" Calls a voice well-known,

Though the face my eyes can't see.

The sky is wet and lined in rain,

But I only know that

Because a half-hidden lamp,

A lonely lamp, can see.

Splash.

"Take my hand!" My own voice cries.

How alive is nature at night!

One aged hand, one trusting hand,

Intertwine as we run

Past a half-hidden lamp,

A forgotten lamp, that sees.

Poem: Flooding

Written 3/23/09

Picayune matters,

Only trifles of life,

Build and build and build.

One day they shatter.

Droplets of rain

Drip and drip and drip.

I search for a ladder

As floods

Rise and rise and rise.

I fall as it clatters.

As water,

As anger,

As despair,

Drown me, drown me, drown me!

(Yes, I realize the last section is different... rrrg.)