Life

Things happen in life. Let me rephrase that: things happen in life both gradually and all at once. It’s been a long time since I’ve posted on here; is been a long time since I’ve really had time (I still don’t, really). There was some combination of events, circumstances, and interactions that struck a note deep in my mind… It was like hearing a melody you have not heard since childhood; like the smell that haunts your memory of one of your old haunts; it was like seeing an old picture, and remembering everything like it happened today… So, without further ado, here is a poem that tells the truth:

A Note was Struck 

A note was struck
Deep in my heart:
A beautiful sound;
A distant spark.

The note rang forth
In the depths of my mind,
Shaking the dust
Off my dusty old rhymes.

The gears did start
Their clunking again;
Each cog a part
That will portend.

Belts and pulleys
All spin and race
As ash and steam
Elucidate.

A pipe explodes!
The metal grates!
What once was cold
Is now ablaze!

No stopping now,
This steampunk mind;
The engine growls
With life and light.

Idley it sat
For far too long;
Cranked up at
The tune of a song!

A smell, a taste,
A sound and place:
Melody-laced
Life and faith!

With Christ in front,
Though danger’s about,
The ride is rough,
But faith resounds.

A Blip on the Radar

I’m not dead! My energies have simply been focused elsewhere. I’m in my last semester of college, working part-time, and leading a Bible study—all of which demand an enormous amount of time! Still, things are going well. I’ll try to post some riddles or poems soon. I’ve been needing to get my creative juices flowing for some time now. 

Silence is not Dead

Hello! I’m not dead in case anyone was wondering. My last year of college commenced and is proving to be quite the headache for me (I have one right now as a matter of fact l. Because of the chaotic schedule, my creativity facet has had to take back seat for a while. I note ideas down as they come to me, and I may try to post a riddle or two, but I cannot make any commitments at this point. 

Hopefully going to have time, after this year of college to write a book series that I’ve been pondering for some time now. Can’t tell you anything about it yet, but expect some poetry and riddles at the very least! 

Skylark 

​Do you feel the changing breeze? 
Do you see the golden leaves? 
Can you hear the melody
Of the skylark, as it sings? 

Wind is blowing, 
Trees are swaying, 
Skylark’s song is always shifting!
Sun is setting, 
Clouds are raining, 
Come with me and go skylarking! 

Do you sense the summer’s flee? 
From the curse have you been freed? 
Have you heard the beckoning 
Of God’s voice gently speak? 

Seasons changing, 
Years are passing, 
Skylark’s song is always aging! 
Time is wasting, 
People hasting, 
Blind to Christ they are rejecting! 

Is there hope in anything? 
Will ground stay beneath my feet?  
Sings the skylark in the tree, 
“What is life without meaning?”

Hope is failing, 
Ground is shaking, 
Skylark’s song is quickly waning! 
People searching, 
Never finding, 
Stubborn pride, again denying!

… 

Now it’s quiet, dark, and night. 
The skylark’s song is cold. 
A single Light shines out so bright;
Piercing the heart and soul. 

The shaking stopped, 
The noise abrupt, 
As onto the Rock I stepped. 
My heartbeat  stills, 
The fight is naught, 
As Christ, my heart, indwells.

Weekly What – Week 17

A beast o’ green with yellow crown
O’ertakes the landscape all around.
Mowing men and women down
With claws set deeply underground.
No fearless Knight doth dare confound
The countless creatures’ battleground.

Can ya hear that mournful sound
O’ cries o’ fear from dusk to dawn?
Lovers o’ the fallen ones’
Vengeful tears cry out for war!

Picks and pikes, shovels and swords,
Off to snuff the most awful o’ hoards.
Ripping and tearing the mighty cords
O’ the beasts’ behemoth legs and claws,
Until, at last, the growls and roars
Are ne’er but heard in tales of lore.

Weekly What – Week 15

Over white mountains, 
And through motly gray. 
Under the starlight 
Of deep outer space. 
There, I hear a whispering voice;
My spine chilled by a touch, too moist.

Dream of the younger;
Longing of elders;
Age doesn’t matter, 
Thus it’s called never. 
To reach out and find what you seek, 
Requires, in mind, a smile and wink.