Pain

So I've been suffering writer's block, or maybe just plain un-inspiration lately, but I finally forced myself to write something. I hear that's the best cure, or first step towards a cure, for writer's block.
The inspiration for this one comes from a lot of places, I guess. I was listening to "Move Along" by the All-American Rejects today, so that's where a lot of it comes from, and it also just comes from those times where you're trying to get over something pretty painful- in my case, it's usually some hopeless crush that I know is going to go nowhere. While it hurts when you realize that and start trying to move past it, eventually you get to a point where you can turn around and realize it was for the better. :) Oh and PS, sorry if this isn't that great. I really just wrote this poem to get my creative juices flowing, and didn't give much time to critiquing or anything.

Pain (I'm not really feeling the creativity in this title here... sorry, haha.)

The hurt
is sharp
and strong.

Don’t stop
Just move
Push along

While it’s tough
And bitter
And real

These wounds
Will prove quick
To heal.

Just FYI

Hey everyone,
so it's been a while since I've posted on here... Truth be told, I've been pretty busy lately getting ready for college and whatnot. But I promise, I'll try to post again soon! I just wanted to make sure that you all knew this blog isn't dead (yet).
Hope you're all doing well!
"Daisy"

Dusk on the lake

During the retreat I mentioned in my last post, we leaders took our teens out on the dock and had some quiet time one night. It was really amazing, as was the whole camp, and the peaceful atmosphere was incredible. The hours after sunset are a pretty magical time, cheesy as that sounds. This poem just kind of turned out as the result of my observations of all the senses during this short time on the lake.

Dusk on the Lake

The lake is
a mirror of movement
as the deck
dips and sways.

The water is an
echo of light,
the windows casting
a liquid glow.

Guitar skims across the water
The whisper of wind
matches the murmer
of the shuffling bodies.

A highlight of white
is a chip on the dusty dark blue sky
bleeding lighter around the edges.

Flood

I was at a retreat this weekend for the Militia Immaculata. I've been a part of this camp for several years now, and this was my first year as a small group leader instead of a camper. Anyway, during the orientation for the leaders, we got a chance to have some prayer time with just us and the Lord. It was totally awesome, and my reflections sort of sparked this poem. (Keep in mind that I wrote this at 11:15 at night, and edited it while running on very few hours of sleep, so it may be a little odd.) ;)

Permeate me, Lord
Drown me in You.
Take away the old crud
and fill it with the New.

Seep through my veins
Inundate me
with the waves of Your grace
Your mercy, the Sea.

Make every move Yours
So I'm now just a part
of this Body of Christ
Let me follow Your heart.

Spinning

They say
The crazy people
don't know they are.

If I think I'm losing it,
does that mean
I'm not?

Rescuers

This is the final poem for my poetry class this year. (Hopefully that doesn't mean the last poem for this blog!) ;) It's a poem of gratitude, and it's addressed to you, dear Switchfoot boardie friends. :) I find it ironic that as I'm posting this, the song "Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own" by U2 came on my iTunes... appropriate!

Rescuers

When you found me,
I was underwater
Drowning
Crushed under the thick, blue, immovable
solitude.
Every rejection
Ignored speech
Snide look
Silence
Held me down like a vise.
The solid, black
alone
was my merciless prison
And no one would give me
the key.

Along came you
Thrusting a life preserver into my
Grasping hands
Pushing words
Where none existed
Turning the key
Opening my prison
My crutch, support, lifeline

Thank you.

(unnamed)

I just wrote this one on the spur of the moment. It's partially inspired by the song Love Is The Movement, partially by this quote from Jon Foreman:

Love is, as far as I can tell, the most mature response to any situation - the pinnacle of what it means to be truly human. Love is a wrench in the wheels of cause and effect, of reactionary living, of casual imitation. Yes, speed and events are all around us in the information age, but motion, true motion, is rare. Love is the movement. Keep moving, amigos.

Here's my poem:


I sit on the side of the highway
As the cars zip past.
Lives pass
Each one intent
Focused ahead
Eyes forward
Don’t look sideways
Don’t stop to breathe.

In a world of motion
We’re devoid of
emotion.
Our movement is
machine, metal, mechanical
iPod, iTouch
I think
we are losing touch with each other

On the side of the highway
One person pauses.
One movement,
the mindless,
stops.
Another
the movement of love
begins.
Make love your movement.