Work in Progress- Rain & Homemade Pudding

When I couldn't sleep

You gave me the rain
To patter on my windows
A soothing lullaby
 
When I felt empty and dry
You filled me up
The warmth of your love
Like homemade pudding
With chocolate chip swirls

Loser

Just wanted to share this one with you during the season of Lent/Easter.  It's an older one of my poems (2008), but I like it.  Mostly because there have been many times I've been called a loser-- and many other things as well-- and I find it comforting to think that people called my hero names, too.  It's kind of a round-about jolt of caffiene for my mood because Hey! if they could be that off-base about my Jesus, maybe I'm better than they think, too.

They called him “Loser”

Didn’t know he’d already won
They called him “Helpless”
Didn’t see the power of the Son
 
Despised, rejected, “Man of Sorrows” is His name
But this Man is my friend and I trust Him just the same
 
They called him “Homeless”
Didn’t know He lives in me
They called him “Worthless”
Didn’t get His identity
 
For though He was killed when they hung Him on that tree
This Superman has conquered death and He’s coming back for me!
 
I call Him “Savior”
Don’t you know He took my sin
I call Him “Lover”
‘Cause He made me want to live again

Live Loved

Live Loved
That should be your goal
To be free
In the knowledge
That nothing can stop me
From loving you
 
When you live Loved,
Your whole perspective is
Changed
Because you don't hear:
"Stop doing this.  I don't want you to have fun."
You hear instead:
"Please, don't do this.  I don't want you to get hurt."
 
When you're secure
In the knowledge of my love
You know that I'll discipline you--
But only so that you can become a better person.
You know I'll test you--
But only to help you grow.
You know you'll make mistakes--
But I'll forgive you
And I'll love you anyway.

It's Not Okay

It isn't really okay
And we shouldn't say it is
But day after day
People still say
"It's okay."
 
We cheapen the words
And we condone the harm
When we use those two little words
And I'm starting to wonder
If it isn't our fault
That rudeness and spite
Only escalate
 
It'd be better if we said,
"I forgive you."
That would condemn the wrong
That would at least send the message
That it's NOT okay
To lie, or to borrow without asking,
Or to cheat, or to call names,
Or to bite or to hit or to be disrespectful,
Or to do a thousand things
That we let kids get away with
All because we're willing to say,
"It's okay."
 
It's not okay.
Not even if you say,
"I'm sorry."
That doesn't take away
The wrongness of your actions.
 
That's why it's not okay
To say, "It's okay."

I Am Not First (Follower)

I am not First.
I could never be.
But maybe, I am second.
 
I am not the Farmer,
I am the temp worker
Sent out to help harvest the field
 
I am not the Warrior,
I am not even the tank driver,
I am the one being defended
 
I am not the Teacher,
I am the grad student
Who sometimes teaches, but still needs to learn
 
I am not the Healer
I am the nurse
Who sometimes struggles with the Great Physician's handwriting
 
I am not the Light shining in the Darkness
I am the mirror
Reflecting it to others
 
I am not the Living Water,
Who quenches the thirst of souls
I am merely the waitress offering a glass
 
I am not the One who Walks on Water
I am not even the one who jumps out of the boat to meet Him
But I do lean over the edge to watch in wonder
 
I am not the Word-smith,
Who speaks and calls worlds into being
I am the praiser of Him who is.
 
I am not First.
Many times I am not even second,
But I do choose to be a follower.

This Time of Year

This time of year
Used to be about baskets and bunnies
Malted-milk balls and creme eggs
And green tinsel strewn on the floor
 
This time of year
Used to be about cantata practice
Studying for exams and speeches
And finishing projects last-minute
 
This time of year
Used to be about giving up chocolate
Or TV or meat, giving up whatever's a treat
Depriving myself because it's Lent
 
But now
 
This time of year
Isn't really much different
I'm trying to live in a world
Where it's Easter everyday
Where I'm secure enough
In the love of the Father
That I can remember the cross
And still celebrate

The victory.

 
I don't mean there's never shame.
I don't mean every day is great
But when you know that even death
Can be conquered,
The little things don't matter as much.
 
And more of the things I used to do
Suddenly seem
Like little things.

Of Elk and their Ilk

I'm blaming this bit of insanity on Nick.  He started the whole discussion about elk and their ilk on facebook.

I would not balk
To walk and talk
About elk and their ilk
But I would rather halt
And have a good malt
Than drink an elk's milk

For I do not think
I would like such a drink
For I can't stand the taste of Silk.
I think it's quite clear,
Over elk or reindeer
I prefer the taste of cow's milk.

Culled

All together there
Then pulled out of the herd
Sometimes without
Even a word
 
We feel the noose
Tightening up
And suddenly, brokenly,
The fight's gone
 
Sinking to our knees
Busted without hope
No one else could fix us,
Humpty-Dumpty broke
 
And there we were
Pulled out of the herd
The lame, the blind, the broken
The dregs, rest assured
 
But in our weakness,
He is strong
And when we can't make it anymore
The Cowboy comes along

Your Love is All I See

Your every wound
Is beautiful to me
Your unending love
Is all that I see

You're reaching out
Across the stretch of time
Giving of yourself
To save this wretched life of mine

And no one else has loved me
Quite that much before
And I don't think I'll ever
Find someone who loves me more

That's why each scar, each wounded palm,

Each bruise and cut You wear
Could never strip the beauty
From the cross You choose to bear

Your unending love
Is the only thing I see
That's why Your every wound
Is beautiful to me

Home

I was looking at my "I'm an Alien!" bookmark and couldn't help thinking how little trouble I have with the concept that this world is not my home.  Maybe it's all the moving that I've done over the years, but I tend to think of home as more of "where the people I love are" or "where I feel safe" rather than a specific address.  Sure, I can quote you some addresses if you want-- 1803 Van Camp Avenue, 5800  Royal Palm Court, 3552 400th St, 4314 Jay Avenue, Rural Route #1 Box 71C, PSC 42 APO AE 09465... but the places those are attached to aren't home, even though they were special.  And there's no where safer than with my Abba; no one I love more and no one whose presence would be harder to forgo.  So it's easy for me to know this world is not my home.  My home is the place that is being prepared for me (1 Peter 2:11 & John 14:2-3).


In all the years that I’ve been here,
I’ve traveled, lived both far and near,
And yet I know, wherever I roam,
No place in this world is truly my HOME.

Fisher Home

Every fisherman
Needs a little cabin on a lake
Or a the cabin of a boat
To retreat to
When the wind rises,
The thunder booms,
And the rain sheets down
 
But my fisher home
Isn't a place, it's a person
And He doesn't protect me
From thunderstorms and hail
No, He gets me through
Rising tensions and
Falling pay,
The cold of loneliness
And the sting of life day-to-day

Pour Down Your Love

This fills the instrumental break in the Kutless song Take Me In (Holy of Holies)

Pour down Your love
Fill us with it, Lord
Pour down Your Love
That we might know you more

Let my heart beat
According to Your will
Let me feel Your heartbeat
Moving in me still

Prayer for Direction

Once again, I'm falling behind.  So, here's something I wrote 2-20-2011.

Father God, I don't know where I'm going

Father God, I don't know what to do
O Father God, help me to be faithful
To Your word, keep me always true

Give me strength and give me wisdom
So I go according to Your will
Give me strength and give me wisdom
And faith to serve You still

You're calling out my name
And I don't know where I'm going
You're calling out my name
And I don't know where I'm going

Help me to go where You want
Only to do what You want me to

If You won't take the blindfold off,
Please just whisper in my ear

Give me some directions,

So my next step in faith is clear

Father God, I don't know where I'm going
Father God, I don't know what to do
O Father God, I can't do this on my own;
For always being here, thank You

For never leaving me alone
For always staying with me

With my pack upon Your back
With our arms entwined
Walking down the path of life
With Your hand holding mine.

Thank You.

Catching Things at the Picnic

The kids were catching tadpoles
They thought it was such fun
But I was shocked when
They showed me their cups
 
For each and every one
Was bleached
To an awful white translucence
That nature never planned
 
They kicked with little legs
And waved stubby tails
But didn’t seem to move
And all I could think was
 
The parents
Are letting their kids play in the water?
THIS water?
 
It wasn’t my place to shoo them away
Not at a picnic
Where I was just a guest
But still, I thought I needed to try
To lure them at least
 
With bubbles
And paper airplanes
And leaf whistles
And rubber-band slingshots

Adventure Heroes

We like fiction
To supersize our characters
We like fantasy                                                            
To give them magic powers
We like sci-fi
So that they can do what we can’t
We think that
We’re so boring
We don’t bother to
Know each other
In our quest for the
Latest book
Latest movie
Latest tale of great adventure
Who cares about real life?
 
But thinking that,
You get caught in the trap,
And miss the adventure
 
Of knowing next-door lives
A doctor with the heart of a pyromaniac
With endless time
For teens in his youth group or at his house
For building a twenty foot bonfire
And then going to look for more wood
Because it’s still not big enough
With boundless energy
And always time for two on two
With garbage cans for basketball hoops
 
Do you know
The woman around the corner
Who gave up her daughter for adoption
Then spent forty years searching for her
Scouring the internet
Poring through phone books
Hiring P.I.s
If you’re not sure of the difference
Between love and being used
Just ask her
Her second husband paved the way
Prayed the way
To reunion
With her daughter
  
Have you talked with
The ninety-year-old lady
Who fell and broke her hip
Laid outside for more than three hours
And never noticed the agony
Because she was lost in the wonder
Of watching the grass grow
The doctor's said she'd never walk again
Three months later, she was back in her home,
Living alone,
Because she chose
to Walk again
By faith.

Bugs

There are bugs flying in the sky
There are bugs on the ground
Bugs that walk on water
There are bugs all around
 
Butterflies flutter by
Dragonflies dance
And marching away with my picnic
Are hundreds of tiny ants
 
Last year’s caterpillar
Now is a moth instead
And the curtains in my windows
Are made of spiders’ thread
 
Centipedes in my bathtub
Are something I don’t need
And I really hate mosquitoes
When they perch on me to feed!
 
I’m not scared of all these bugs
But I think they are revolting
I don’t want them near me
Especially when they’re molting!
 
Now don’t get me wrong
I know God has a plan
But this is what I think:
I’d like to take all these bugs
And drown them
In some giant sink!

Well maybe not the butterflies
And leave a dragonfly or two
Their colors bring Spring beauty
I’d miss them, wouldn’t you?
 
While I abhor beestings,
I’d better not kill the bee
Or else I’ll have no honey
For sweetening my tea
 
And without these pollinators
No more flowers there would be
And I would be heartbroken
By the lack of fruit on every tree
 
So I guess I have to suck it up
And not use so much Raid
I’ll just coat myself with repellent
Anytime I want to sleep in the shade
 
There are bugs flying in the sky
There are bugs on the ground
I guess somehow we’re better off
With all these bugs around

Broken Innocence

They work in an outdoor furnace
Under the blazing sun
Harvesting the cocaína
For the drug lords
Whole families enslaved
Children held hostage by the fear
That what happened to
A mother, father, uncle, friend, sibling
Could happen to them
And with a burst of machine-gun fire

It’s easy to get them through customs
They’re just little kids
Then they’re taken to a warehouse
Or tenement to wait
For their systems to pump out
The plastic-encased drugs
Smuggled into the country
Inside their bodies

She stood in the middle of the road
Seemingly unaware
Of the danger she was in
But when the truck stopped
The Iraqis opened fire
Having used the innocent
To bait the trap
For the convoy

He sat in the chair
Unmoving,
But moved
Tears on his face as he considered:
To tell the truth
And let justice prevail
Or refuse to snitch on
The friend he's known since they were two
And feel as guilty as if he'd
Pulled the trigger himself
His conscience
Just another gangland casualty
In a drive-by spree

Blue

Blue
Blue skies
Blue dolphins
Cavorting ‘neath
Blue ocean waves
As I watch,
Not blue at all.

Brainchild

The mind is a womb
Unborn ideas lie within
Tethered by
Creativity’s umbilical
Dreams grow
Fed by inspiration
Until they are ready
To burst forth
Brainchildren born
Created
Designed
Invented
Formed
Begun

And once again, the mind is fallow

I've been thinking of adding to this one for a few years... something along the lines of how even when I no longer think my ideas are good, I am still reluctant to give them up or cut large amounts of text out of a story... in a way similar to a parent not wanting to give up their child or amputate a limb.  But a part of me thinks that'd be overdoing it, and another part of me kind of likes this one's focus on the creation of new ideas.  Thoughts?  Opinions?

Beyond Me

You are beyond my comprehension, God.
I try
And fail
To understand Your ways
My head knows the fact:
Your ways aren’t like mine.
But my heart
Just can’t seem to grasp
That

But I try
Anyways
To make sense
Of the things You do
And the things You let happen

But if someone
Can prevent something awful,
And doesn’t,
Is that person responsible?

Are You?

Better Ethics

A higher code
Is what we need
Better ethics
Than what I’ve seen

What we need are
Reliable lips
Wholly devoted
To truthfulness

What we need are
Diligent hands
Doing their work
For honest pay

What we need are
Principled minds
Not looking for ways
To cut corners

What we need are
Honorable hearts
Held together
By integrity

What we need are

Faithful people
Who spend their lives
Doing what’s right

And what we need is
A sense of justice
People who’ll accept
Their actions’ results

Caught in Wonder

I stop and stare as

dawn's light breaks upon my face
the persimmon sun
shimmering amongst unwinding rolls
of peach and mango gauze
behind the black lace veil
of naked tree branches

caught in wonder

I fall to my knees
tears streaming like November rain
singing in a voice not my own
the words coming thickly moaned
as I am covered and surrounded
by the thrumming through my soul
felt more than heard, like a bass overdose
of His Presence

caught in wonder

Bad Sex

I've got no problem with
people who love others
even those who are the same sex
The problem comes when
they "love" inappropriately
 
We all condemn the pedophiles
the rapists, johns, and whores
but when it comes to sexual sin
I think we need to go one step more
 
Homosexuality
is wrong,
just like adultery
but we don't want to hear that,
so we just ignore the truth
 
And we don't like
to hear the pastor say
looking at porn and
reading smut and slash
is just as bad
as going all the way
 
I'm not immune to the temptation
I get turned on too
Brad Pitt, Jerry O'Connell,
Brendan Fraiser, Matthew McConaughey,
Sean Connery (that voice!)...
I could go on and on,
but none of them are mine
and I don't even have the right to drool
 
Now I don't doubt that some people
may really be built "that way"
but last I checked,
some people were built
pathological liars
or kleptomaniacs
or predisposed to become
serial killers
That doesn't make their wrongs okay
 
It just means they are
tempted and tried
and may have a harder time
controlling themselves
 
perhaps the saddest thing
is that most of the time
we don't put bad sex
on the same level with those things
because we think there is no victim
 
we're wrong
even if at the moment we think it's
fun, good, healthy, exhilarating
bad sex destroys the people having it

Posting Delays

Once again, I just want to apologize for the slight delays in posting this week.  In order to prevent this over the next ten days while I am on vacation, I will be using some of my little older poems; I've now set up blogger to post one a day for me until the Sunday after next.  I'll be looking forward to seeing what everyone thinks of them when I get back!

PS.  THANK YOU VERY MUCH to my reviewers! (Uncle Ron and Jen James, this means you!)  It was so exciting to log on today and have my very first comments to read.  Please keep it up!

Candid Photography

Found back two photos
Almost identical
Brothers in front of a fireplace
At Christmas time
 
First photo:
Dan had an arm
Draped around Mike’s shoulder
Mike leaned against him,
Grin pasted on
 
Next photo, only flames changed
Well, that and
Mike’s face wasn’t visible
Dan had him in a headlock
Giving him a nuggee
 
Now the "casual" picture
Would be preferred by most people
But I like the second
Because it captures
The essence of my brothers.

Advertisement: Looking for True Love

Single female Christian
Looking for a man
Who’s just like me:
 
Must enjoy talking
Reading books
Watching movies
Playing cards
And life
Absolutely must
Want kids

Canine pals a plus

Armanis, Ferraris, and nest eggs
Optional
Actually, my tastes gravitate
Towards blue jeans and SUVs.
 
I prefer a man who’s
Musically delicious
Artistically inclined
Endlessly romantic
Always optimistic
Inspiring and funny
Clever and a learner
Thoughtful in every sense of the word
And occasionally competitive.
While I’m at it, let’s add
Well-off monetarily
And blessed with good looks!
 
My dream guy
Is not afraid
To change poopy diapers
Wear purple or pink
Talk about feelings
Or wash dishes in the sink.
He’ll even clean up puke
So I won’t add to it.
What a sweety.

Now I don’t mean to be picky
Please try to understand
I know that all these qualities
Are hard to find in your ordinary man.
That’s why I’ll sum up
All these dreams and hopes and wants
With this just this one prerequisite:
Only Christian men need respond.
 
Must have integrity
A good laugh
Smile lines
A love of the Word
And a Passion for God
 
He also needs to have
The understanding
That a good conversation
Over a game of cards
Or a companionable silence
While holding hands
Can be better than sex
 
He should also know
Divorce is not an option.
With true love,
Once in a lifetime love,
Nothing is too big
To forgive and work through.
 
And that’s what I’m looking for:
True love!
Forever Love
I’ll accept no substitutions.
 
I’m not looking for
The whole fairy tale—
Well, not necessarily.
But a song from the lips
Of a strong tenor or bass
Melts my insides.

Caught in a Book

Caught in a book
Just like it was
A tornado’s hook
 
Grips me tight
Won’t let me go
I’m flown like a kite
 
But just like a twister
The end of the book
Is a real let-down.

Uninspired

The blankness sits before me

Waiting for my words
And all that I can think of
Are the words that have gone before:

In the beginning was the Word
In the beginning God created
The heavens and the earth
And the Word was with God
And the earth was formless and empty
And darkness was over the surface of the deep
And the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters
And the Word was God
Through Him all things were made
Without Him nothing was made that has been made
In His hand is the life of every creature
And the breath of all mankind

And God said, "Let there be light."
The Light shines in the darkness
And the darkness has not overcome it
In Him there was Life
And that Life was the Light of man

The blankness sits before me
Waiting for my words
But my paltry words can never measure up
To the standard I see, I hear
Just like all of my
Are as filthy rags next to the purity
Of my Savior.

My words shall never be immortal
And yet
I'm okay with that.
I understand
That sometimes
The process is more important
Than the product.


A.N: Stanzas 2 and 3 are quotations from John 1, Genesis 1, and Job 12:10, which I have reorganized.

Feedback

By the way, if anybody's reading these, I'd really appreciate some feedback.  Whether it's a "Yeah, that's great, I really like the part where you...." or "This one sucks because..." or "I don't really get this part..." or even "What's the point of this?", I would really be encouraged by the feedback.  It also helps me to grow as a writer, so please, let loose.  Give it all you've got.

This Time

Sorry it's taken me so long to get these poems posted.  I haven't stopped writing... there's just been a lag in post times.  And without further ado:

This Time

There are so many things I want to remember about this time:
 
The begging for the "Hane Nook!  Hane Nook!" as soon as she awakens
All Aboard the Dinotrain at least three times an hour
Bringing other books when I'm too bored to repeat it again.
 
The tickle of tiny fingers on the soles of my feet
The mischievous grin as she hears my laugh,
Grabbing for my feet again
 
Tripping along in my clogs, my jacket around her shoulders
With a "My naps!" she claims it as her own
As she struggles to do up the snaps
 
The chirpy voice pleading, "Up!  Up!  Hug!"
The brush of fine hair against my cheek
The smell of baby shampoo
 
The demands for blankies,
The delicate snore interrupting the movie twenty minutes in,
The feel of soft skin under my fingers as I caress her face
 
The new words every week, playing peekaboo and hide and seek
Hiding in the entertainment center and pulling the door shut behind her
The climbing and the running, a bundle in perpetual motion
 
The urge to explore everything, insatiable appetite for new things
The shivering and shrieking laughter when she's really excited,
Hunched over and arms waving
 
Running among the shelves at the library
Driving the fire truck and ice cream truck in the mall
Coloring and painting as long as I'll let her
 
So much to remember, so much to treasure
For this time will soon be gone.

Adonai Acrostic

Abba Father,

Dearest Jesus,
O Holy One of Israel, You are
Near to my heart, never sleeping
And keeping me
 In perfect peace.

1803 Van Camp Avenue

Down the bumpy old road
Bumpy old brick B street
Turn the corner and then drive past the sign
Dead End

Mystery garage, next to the gardens
Four gardens filled with dying plants
And Mom’s all green and growing
Well-watered

Down the path with the curlicues
Little green vine-things on the way to school
To twist on my fingers while Dan yelled,
“Hurry Up!”

Past the sandbox filled with trucks
Avoid the hornets’ nest
Even though they’ve been dead
Twenty years

Climbing up to peek out of the blue tarp
Looking at the lawn and wondering
If there’re still bits of chopped-up grass snake down there
Lawn-mower roadkill

Go through the back yard that always smells
Of a Thanksgiving weenie roast
Stooping by the back door, looking for treasure-hunt pennies
Scattered there

Onto the old mattress for cuddling during tornadoes
Twirling like a ballerina in Mom’s old shoes,
Dad’s old shirt, and a plastic tiara until I’m dizzy,
Collapse

Head upstairs to the room I shared
The queen bed I shared with Jen
Even after she left me there to sleep
With it on fire

The big blue house in Omaha
Still lives in my memory
Even though now
It’s gone

B street is the same, except
Andy’s mom doesn’t live kitty-corner ‘cross the street
Most of the trees are gone, making the path sunny
You can see down the hill to the street
And the gardens are no more
The backyard playhouse removed
Gone like they never existed
Cigarette smoke has replaced the memory of
Charcoal in the barbeque
And the house sits empty
A realtor’s sign in the front yard
And it’s not even blue anymore
It’s puke green

Baby, Baby

Another oldie-- I wrote this one years ago, when my oldest neice and nephew were in grade school.  They're teenagers now, and I still can't help thinking that they're growing up way too fast.

Look at you
My lil cutie pie
Can’t walk yet
But lookit you try

Look at you

Gigglin and grinnin
Superman on the slide
Then swing-spinnin

Look at you

Dancin and singin;
Lightsaber duels and smores--
We have such fun playin

Look at you

Time’s a-wingin so swiftly

Baby, baby—please

Don’t grow up so fast on me

Bitter Moon

She rises

the bitter winter moon
contentedly indifferent
to the world's predicament
She harbors no ill will
to those below her
yet we are frozen
by the chill
of her apathetic face.