This Christmas

As a gift for my family this Christmas, I wrote a poem. I started writing from my own heart and ended, I believe, writing from God's. I love you family!!!

This Christmas

I breathe you in and hold you there

Effusive warmth and effervescent mirth

My eyes brim with crystals

When you dance through my mind

We clasp hands, link arms at the elbow

Place palms at the small of our backs

I lift you up as you hold me aloft

With whispered shouts of supplication

If love can with words be painted

I seek to dip my pen daily in crimson

So you will know that I see you, feel you from miles away.

This heart string strung between these nine beating hearts

Plucked by the hand of God, fingers singing every note

A harmony birthed from the gossamer realm

The refrain returns to earth ever repeating

This family is mine.

Day 2, Blog 2

Wow! A second post on my second day of being a "blogger". I've amazed myself...I'm over it now.

So...I don't really have anything to say today. No soul searching inquisitions or mind blowing revelations to relate. Instead I'll just post another piece of poetry (enjoy the alliteration I just gave you). I think, for my next foray into bloggerdom, I shall confabulate with you on the wonder that is the thesaurus. Or perhaps, we shall endeavor to discover the delights of the dictionary. I can see you are quivering with anticipation.

Offering

These two hands, a duet of calm

Still unsung but not for lack of wanting.

The giving, one sided, unrequited

Stales and suffers like past tense foliage.

The offer still stands with faltering equilibrium

Like something newborn in high heeled desperation

Precariously balanced on the tip of tongue

Up or down, left or right, accept or reject

Please do, please do, lest your lukewarm spittle

Settle where decision once lied.

Virgin Voyage

So, here I am. Attempting to blog. It's a strange feeling to be typing words that you hope will appeal to outsiders. I mean really, if this was truly just for me, I would be writing this in a journal.

I have no delusions of grandeur regarding who might read this and what it might lead to. It's simply one of the things on a list of many that I can now cross off. I've decided to post my attempts at poetry here as well as anything else that suits my fancy. Hopefully I can make this last more than a week...we'll just have to see.

I have never thought of myself as a writer of poetry, prose or anything else. There were no piles of notebooks surrounding my bed as a kid, full of my thoughts and scribblings. I was one of those people that simply enjoyed reading poetry and any other type of writing I could get my hands on. I am still one of those people. So... I guess I'm a reader. But, I figured since I am physically capable of writing I might as well give it a try.

This poem was inspired by a conversation I heard between my sisters during an afternoon drive here in Washington. The first four lines were actually spoken by them after seeing a sign for a "luxury" trailer park, or something akin to that.
This is not an attack on trailers, mobile homes or the people who live in them. It's more a commentary on a state of mind that has permeated our society and suffocates what could be, what could have been. There's nothing hidden here, it's literally quite literal.

Reality of a Tinderbox

Trailers…? On a hill…?

Wait, what does that say?

Luxury living?

What does that mean?

One shrub, one scrubby patch of sickly green,

Is that the luxury of this living?

Redefine, renegotiate a meaning,

Poverty hiding behind a well-lit sign.

Promising promises, but

Only delivering littered corners,

Infused with the aromatic stench of ignorance 

And forgotten, misused pride,

Emotional refuse forming valiant pillars to support the facade.

1 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi, 3 Mississippi, drowned slowly by a state of mind.

Dust can be blown away,

Insurmountable obstacles burned by driven hands.

An effigy of energy, possibility, hope,

The mountain vanquished under the turn of a well shod heel.

Rebirth.