Grace All the More

Priest

2009-05-13T14:13:00.000-07:00

There is something about a priest who walks into a bank on a Wednesday afternoon,

There is something sacred, something honored,

The black robes swish as he joins the queue,

His antique head covered in whisps of white hairs,

He holds back his crucifix as he bends down to fill out a deposit slip.

There is something wholly good,

So that the lady behind wonders if maybe he is on a mission from God,

And the clerk speaks soft in humble tones.

There is something worth respect,

So that even the firmest atheist cannot but stand in line silent.

Total Eclipse

2008-11-28T09:37:00.000-08:00

Listen close in springtime gardens; hear

A murmur soft of whispers late at night,

The love duet of voices drawing near,

More dulcet song than any tunesmith's write-

The perfect blending hum of dark and light,

A sprinkling treble chime and throbbing bass.

The words tonight will be tomorrow's delight,

She watches for the moment he awakes,

Shaking sleep to see, as daylight breaks,

Her face; she peeks to catch his first sighs

And bring him round with kisses and embrace,

Her sweetful love to last until she dies.

But now the echo of lips brushing lips,

Love blocking noise in total eclipse.

I'm Too Dirt Poor

2008-11-12T13:36:00.000-08:00

I'm too dirt poor

But not been raped

It's too my choice

To try escape

The bill's in court

And should have passed

The Vazquez veto

Breathed its last

With three-fifths more

For women's rights

And fewer kids

In dire plights

But Church is calling

For my soul

Eternal damned

Is the toll

To live on earth

The child must die

But if it did

Then so would I

The rulers rage

And I just wait

My belly grows

My twelve-week fate

I soon will know

But if my cause

Should this time fail

It will not pause

The world is moving

On my side

And soon my country

Will decide

To raise a child

I'm too dirt poor

Disclaimer: I am in no way advocating abortion. I saw this article on BBC News (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/7724125.stm) and tried to imagine what a woman wanting an abortion in Uruguay right now is feeling.

Smog

2008-11-04T23:33:00.000-08:00

Head bobbing

Hands beating the steering wheel

Windows down

Singing like you do in the shower

Waitin' for the light to turn green

Watchin' the cross traffic

Zoom zoom zoom

Air guitar solo

An eighteen-wheeler pushes through the intersection,

A widening gap in front of it

And a cramped line of cars behind it

As it moves sluggishly under all that weight,

While everyone stopped at the light watches with a frown.

Head bobbing

How embarrassing...

A thick, low cloud of smoke trails behind the truck,

Slowly creeping up to ruin the clean air,

Like some greasy, sleezy brown rat,

Slinking toward the open windows,

Sniffing around the wheels.

Air guitar

Push the button

Windows up

Disgusting...

Bible Class

2008-11-03T14:07:00.000-08:00

In class I see Your Word become alive,

No longer learning terms and facts

That help the people on earth to merely survive

In jobs and hobbies, other roles and acts.

My notes are no more covered in random sketch--

The lunch I wish I had instead of class.

Pages show my brain is prone to stretch,

My spirit filled by lasting cup and glass.

You fed me milk and kept me safe at home;

I never feared or doubted what I knew,

And in this fire I sometimes feel alone,

But know the truth will lead me close to You.

Praise to God, for faithfully guide You do,

And again and again my spirit, please, renew.

Humor at the Expense of a New Kitten

2008-10-24T13:45:00.000-07:00

I always find a way to tease the cat;

Her brain, you see, is sadly very small.

I'd stop it if I could, but that is that.

I put her treats inside a tilted hat

Then stand it up; she can't escape: too tall.

I always find a way to tease the cat.

Above her head a string she tries to bat.

An awkward spring; it only ends in fall.

I'd stop it if I could, but that is that.

I exercise her so she won't get fat;

I tempt her with a laser on the wall.

I always find a way to tease the cat.

Comfy, scheming in my chair I sat,

She scrambling after an elusive ball.

I'd stop it if I could, but that is that.

Some people ask, "Why do you do that?"

I shrug my shoulders; I don't know at all.

I always find a way to tease the cat;

I'd stop it if I could, but that is that.

Maggie: A Villanelle

2008-10-24T10:58:00.000-07:00

Though just a bud, your bright'ning petals bloom

And, racing time, they open toward the sun.

Your freshful sweetness drives away the gloom.

A million words like buzzing honeys zoom

To gather knowledge before your lips are done.

Though just a bud, your bright'ning petals bloom.

When hushed and planted in your bed you fume;

With yawns, demand more time until you've won;

Your sweetful freshness drives away the gloom.

You bravely stand when thundering shadows loom,

Defy the gray, and somber clouds you shun,

Though just a bud; your bright'ning petals bloom.

You play, your smile light as petals' plume,

And innocently boss your friends in fun.

Your sweet-fresh fullness drives away the gloom.

I see some seeds were in our mother's womb,

That you and young Me share so much in common.

Though just a bud, your bright'ning petals bloom;

Your freshful sweetness drives away my gloom.

Prayer

2008-10-10T13:42:00.000-07:00

An open air 'neath leaves of green

Is where I love You best,

Where just effects of grace are seen,

Like wind, and give me rest.

With blue and red the stage is lit;

A concert for the King

Is fine until I need to sit,

And hear the Shepherd sing.

Guitar and drums awake my soul

With passion when I'm strong,

But when my heart feels weak and old,

I need a gentler song.

My heart is still now; speak to me

With murmurs in the streams

And whisper softly in the sea

And quiet in my dreams.

To the Greats: A Sonnet

2008-10-05T00:30:00.000-07:00

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

When I have fears that I may cease to be

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways

William Shakespeare and Christopher Marlowe,

Elizabeth Barrett Browning, John Donne,

Robert Burns, and Andrew Marvell, have won

The majority of the poems I know

And love. I listen to their words at night,

And their sonnets are the thoughts of my days.

Quotes and lyrics come from my lips as praise;

The genius of my teachers is my sight.

Oh, would that I were a small, humble leaf

To grow on their tree, and there find relief.

Sisterly Advice

2008-10-03T13:26:00.000-07:00

In high school lots of people date--

I know some make it; some just don't.

It's fun to cast yourself as bait

And see what you can catch out there.

It's fun to have those silly fights;

It's fun to feel that someone's stare.

There's always a little drama involved;

We're human and it can't be helped

(And no one wants that problem solved).

My friends and I were all so sweet,

But wanted to grow up too fast

And thought we knew how to handle the heat.

The skirts got short, the smiles got wide,

Then we saw the destruction ahead

And rushed back to the safer side.

Now you're coming to that time, too;

Your friends are looking just like mine

Before we danced the whole night through.

Be careful when you go that way;

I didn't have a sister then

With lots of good advice to say.

I'll help you do your hair and dress,

But tell me you'll stay with your friends,

'Cause, trust me, boys are just a mess.

When you date, Sister, I will cry.

Please wait at least until I marry,

But better yet after I die.

Reading at the Stadium

2008-10-01T22:21:00.000-07:00

Nine o'clock on Wednesday night

Lights are out on the football field

Lovers whisper in the stands

Watching stars and holding hands

Solo runners listen to iPods

Each running at his own pace

Shuffling or sprinting to my right

Nine o'clock on Wednesday night.

This House

2008-09-26T13:38:00.000-07:00

I got this house from my old woman, broke

And beaten, life to her was just a joke.

I got this house-- the walls were crumbling down,

The paint was chipped and off-white turned to brown.

The faucet dripped, a never-ending sound,

Like lies she told and blows she beat me round.

I learned from her the best the way to kill

A house, a home, a love, a mind, a will.

With scorn and hate I would have made her proud,

And drowned my fears with music screaming loud.

I watched the house dissolve before my eyes,

The termites eating all I did despise.

Before we razed the house it was a joy

And happy times she had there with a boy.

But God is cruel, she said, she said, she said,

And sent that boy to war and now he's dead.

Revenge was wrought upon the house that bore

The memories, and the scars for her I wore.

I wore them like a badge bequeathed to me,

A medal for the person I had come to be.

I wear them still as, walking, I perceive

The ashes of the house and her I grieve.

I sit and wait for death to come for me;

At least I know the terror dies with me.

Let's all talk in poetry

2008-09-21T22:20:00.000-07:00

Dude

let's all talk in poetry

Idd be frickin' awesome!

We'd say all these

tight

words

like trembling and devouring

And we'd describe

everything

in all these

crazy

details

And we could

say

we're talking about

flowers n' nature n' stuff

but really

we're talking about

sex or death or

something like that

Yup

Idd be pretty sweet

Directions to Me

2008-09-19T17:31:00.000-07:00

Take Innocence all the way to High School and make a left.

Push right on through the stops at Awkward, Shy, and Rebellious.

You're going to completely pass Popular and Extraordinary.

Take a right at College,

Which goes over a few crazy bumps,

Then turns into Acceptance and Maturity.

You'll make a dead stop at Soul Mate,

And don't be afraid to hop on Married Highway

Till you reach Settled.

Take a left at Children.

I'm past Struggling,

In a nice little neighborhood called Happy Enough.

If you hit the light at Perfect,

You've gone (way) too far.

Mac & Cheese

2008-09-19T13:49:00.000-07:00

I've reached that age--that independent age,

When knuckles turn white from clutching freedom so hard.

Finally, freedom! Beautiful freedom. Funny--

It looks like mac and cheese in this light.

Tomorrow I'm going to the doctor all alone,

And I don't know my insurance information,

Or even my doctor's name, for that matter.

The car's on empty--maybe I just won't go.

But mac and cheese sucks when you're sick and tired.

My roommate's too busy and healthy to give me a hug.

I'd kill for one of Mom's backrubs.

You crazy tyrants--why did you give me what I wanted?

From a Reader to Her Love

2008-09-14T22:12:00.000-07:00

My dear, I don’t wish to torment you;

Don’t lose sleep about the moments I do.

My fleeting affairs with impossible heroes

All end the same way: a close.

They crept in my mind while you, unknowing, slumbered.

But rest; my pages with them are numbered.

I hope I often enough confess my love

To banish your doubts with a sure shove.

My heart is only yours, unmoved by their touch.

Please, do not think this lady doth protest too much.

But my actions have prompted your unwilling accusation,

And I am grieved by your frustration.

So because the evidence I cannot deny,

Here I lay this chapter open to your doleful eye.

My first intrigue was Romeo, blinded by his sun,

Proclaiming her beauty even before their love had begun.

In his unrepentant devotion I was lost,

And I, too, became star-crossed.

Yet I am no Juliet; on him I waste no prayer.

I know his cries can move not even air.

Then as I went on with my life,

I met a man who I didn’t know already had a wife.

His aloofness held for me a mystery;

I couldn’t help but be drawn out of curiosity,

For behind his crude insults I occasionally saw

A greater virtue far surpassing any flaw.

Mr. Rochester’s eye had been sharpened by fate’s blows,

And for every slander a new praise later rose.

But to his secret love I am no more chained,

A fresh view of reality I soon regained.

For my next dalliance I cannot be wholly blamed,

Though the scalawag could not be shamed,

Till when, forsaking all appearance of a knave,

Rhett stood a father true beside the grave.

But Rhett himself cannot be found,

And so our love remains page-bound.

There have been many others to whom my thoughts have drifted,

Merely fiction, and the mask of fantasy has been lifted.

Now as I write my own, real story,

Only one character has the glory.

Let the cover confirm my devotion anew

Look at the title, love: it’s you.

In the Blink of an Eye

2008-09-14T22:06:00.000-07:00

Oh, God, give me no more than a passing thought,

Let my plight pass but fleetingly through Your mind,

And I will be healed.

In Your love, my Lord,

Your thoughts for me outnumber the grains of sand on the beach

And I trust I will be healed.

My physical pain is temporary,

Healed and long forgotten in a blink of Your kind eye.

I beg you, God, but blink!

And Lord, as I wait for Your eye to open,

Turn Your attention to the needs of my heart,

And for them blink again.

PA St.

2008-09-14T22:02:00.000-07:00

Remember Pennsylvania St.,

The places that you walked,

The people that you chanced to meet.

Recall the colors and the scents,

Then vivid and gleaming,

Which, hazy, memory now presents.

Replay the sounds in wiser ear,

The conversations held,

And forget gossip you did hear.

Judge anew decisions made young

With hollow omniscience.

Repent anew your hasty tongue.

Allow time to soften and blur

The anger in your heart

So repatched friendship may occur.

See in your life the blessed themes

And strive to imitate

Those who, unasked, made your dreams.

The Plight of a Poor Man

2008-09-14T22:01:00.000-07:00

Falling, shimmering stars from under bright orbs

Ringed with blackness,

Her tears capture another heart.

It selflessly beats to protect her,

To fill her seemingly empty life,

To end her assumed misery.

He offers the sun and moon—

Who only obey the One

That established their place in the sky,

And who do not stray from those

Trails which Providence blazed—

For he does not own the earth.

Yet the only treasure

Which would replace the shine on her cheeks

Can be found nowhere but deep within

That which he does not own;

That is, the sparkle of a diamond.

Lorena

2008-09-05T13:59:00.000-07:00

Sitting on a church pew

Before the Yamaha keyboard;

Even in the dusty Romanian air,

I engaged in music.

Turns out I wasn't alone;

A little chick skipped up.

She perched right next to me

And gabbered unintelligably.

I frowned and played again,

But she pushed away my hand.

She hit the keys herself

And spoke just with her eyes.

The message clicked,

But where to begin?

"A, B, C, D,

E, F, G."

"Ah, beh, che, de,

Euh, fe, ghe."

On up the pitches,

One more octave;

Now speaking a language

We both understood.