instead of bacon for breakfast,
I ate burritos—bean & cheese.
I thought of nothing but the way
you want to give me joy in exchange
for any bitterness I have toward people,
places, myself I can’t change. I walk down
the hall, watch the light from the window dance
across the wall and stare like the child you see
inside, lost in love you’ve trapped
fmf: bacon. this is probably one of the most interesting prompts I’ve done since joint this community. I saw it last night and said,”bacon?” quite a few times aloud. *insert laughing emoji here*
I need to see you,
mercy shall follow me
all the days of life, even
as my thoughts expose
fear my fingers openly
type. I am attracted to
your light; I want to bask
in the glow of holiest laugh
haunting my days. in my dreams,
I am left alone in a car rolling to my
death. all in my mind, I know, but my
God, I don’t want to go into the dark.
I have no control and the past voices
scream condemnation, hold me hostage:
You should be ashamed of speaking your
mind. you have no right to say what you have.
she should have never forgiven you. why can’t
work harder? you did this to yourself. You should
move on—God, for it is good to wait on you, no
shame comes upon my face, who calls upon you
purely to see your face. mighty are you, to save
the crushed in spirit, brokenhearted. near to me,
are you, who calls me fearfully & wonderfully made,
a little lamb knowing stray. if you left the ninety-nine
to search for me, I’d stare blankly before a cry broke
loose: you won’t relent and I can’t take this anymore.
I’m growing cold from the pain & yes, the anger seeks
root, I was not made for murder—please show me rest
beside greenest pasture.
is the greatest
joy. if you looked
me in the eyes, could
you see the loss I’ve let
slip time from my hands?
I’ve told Jesus the guilt bangs
a mockery against my heart;
I should be able to give myself
fmf: joy. i don’t understand this poem. but i do understand writing or listening to this song is my heart cry to Jesus. every time I hear. “I don’t want you to see this” and then again, I get teary and shaky.
Today I had this idea to write a children’s book about a lamb who is left by her herd due to her feeling too much. Sadness. Over not wanting to wander anymore. Because her herd can’t lead themselves. And Lovey is tired of feeling lost, unloved.
She wants to wonder. It needs work, but now it will not leave me alone.
Let me not forget to mention that I haven’t written a story in 2 years and that was a complete mess.
On the plus side, maybe she can be the lamb, who leads the wanderers? And repeats her words.
This will be interesting because it may break my draw one thing and done. Lovey will definitely look different every time.
middle of night
I rest my head
against the board
& we commune.
You are light,
I think to myself.
outside, I imagine
stars are noticeable
with my blurry vision.
beneath my frame,
your longing rushes
through my body—
a child inaudibly
coming toward me
until I am lifted;
held in the arms
of the unseen.
i don’t know what it is about midnight and Jesus lately, but it feels like this:
chemicals I’m wading
thought I heard you saying
you love me more than words could ever groan
chemicals I’m wading
all my skin is grating
like stars giving birth inside my bones
my thought prayers go everywhere; He rejoices. it actually feels like he’s dancing & laughing without a sound. it’s interesting how i feel like he’s giving me a hug. it’s a warmth I’ve never felt, steady.
You’re never giving
up the pursuit of this
heart to be found by you.
in bodrum, near
the castle, a place
I’ve never dared go—
I’ll imagine you resting
back against a fortress
unlike you, my God—the
only safety for the widowa
in this so-called paradise
we beg never perish, for
the fatherless in Yspilanti
(this whole wide earth)—
look up at the cloudy sky,
blocking light we came
from. “it’s Me.” You cry
inside chests unable
believe we walk on
water, trample serpents
by their heads. forget
the shotgun, let the
angels lift me above
stoning lie: unlovely,
so I may wrap my arms
around Your name, know-
ing I am the original spacefan;
rebelling with all sisu to keep
away. You know I’m just and just
as dust—leaving me nowhere to go
except the ground—the start
of the mosaic You paint from
helpless cries: be my only.
another poem from song titles, this time while a playlist was on shuffle. some of these were seriously difficult to use, but I love how God pulls it all together.
in a perfect world,
I’d say the Word
who took one look
at the remake I followed
to turn my hopes higher—
Love, I can’t tell
I’m an impersonator;
invisible chains make
a stalemate of this strait-
jacket I can’t seem shed.
oh, to take on the world,
say yes! yes! I’ll help you!—
a magnetic force tempting
me keep our (world) love
remains, but I’m a dead
ringer, a pharisee trying
my best to follow every
rule. I believe that will
get me seen, never left.
one beat from a heartbreak.
here, in the broken Eden,
my thoughts are up in the air
where my dreams take me
back to the dance & my laugh,
as you swing me in the paradise;
8th wonder I haven’t seen.
no telling what we could do
next—humility has only ached
truth; I am detestable to myself-
Love never fails welcome anyway.
So, I put on Marc Martel earlier and this came out. I love how I am getting back into writing with song titles. It really stretches me and makes me focus though I’m losing myself in the music. Megan, I don’t know how often you red my blog, but thank you again for taking me to this concert, and being my friend. If you want to introduce me to more music, so I can write poetry to it, go ahead. You know you just want to sit me next to another amp 😉 now, i just gotta write a poem to downhere. ❤