Sphinx at the World War I monument.
they say gargoyle
when they hear the sound he makes
I say prophet
I really reacted to today’s prompt after struggling over the last two. I also wrote a tanka for today and wanted to share it.
wondering why the
guardians look so evil
evil ones have no mercy
they will not flee from sweet faces
I looked it up and gargoyle comes from the French word for throat, and not all dragon or lion-like statues are gargoyles. Only the ones that serve as water spouts are gargoyles, the decorative ones are called grotesques. They were named gargoyles because you could hear the water rushing out of them. That made me think of what the word “prophet” meant. Prophet means “to boil forth.” Also, the gargoyles were thought to ward off evil spirits. Disclaimer: I believe that only praying in Jesus’ name wards off evil, but tanka poems can use metaphors as they are often autobiographical.
So I wrote these poems. There is a lot of false preaching out there, be sure to check what you hear against your Bible.
winter wind blows hard
but I have a big warm coat
thankful for God’s love
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Today’s prompt is “something open”. Here is where I really want to cheat and just redirect you to an old post. But I won’t. The point of NanoPoblano is to write new content.
I have written new poetry and finished some paintings and started some others. To see my finished oil paintings, follow the link to my Instagram in the sidebar. To read my new poetry, follow this blog by email and you will see it as soon as I share it. The poem that I am sharing with this post is really old. I wrote it around 2010. It has not been easy for me to be open about my issues with anxiety. But because other bloggers and writers were open about their issues, I was able to find coping mechanisms and community. So I share in hopes that I might encourage someone who has yet to find a voice that they can relate to.
Screaming crying, praying out loud
Begging you to please, remove this cloud
Have mercy oh Lord, hear my plea
How long can I float upon this sea
I whisper and sob asking you please
This burden from me to ease
Take mercy oh God, on a sinner so small
Down this hallway, I can barely crawl
Pick me up, hold me tight
I can barely see the light
Without your strength I will surely fall
Up so high, can you hear my call
Your guidance is coming, soon it will appear
Then your Holy Spirit will be here
Take my hand, pull me up
Don’t make me drink from this cup
Your words so peaceful, fill my head
And now I lay me down to bed
Thank you God, so true, so fair
I always knew that you cared
I wrote this when I was pregnant. I wrote several “mom poems” when I was pregnant. I hope to one day put them in a book.
I hope those of you who are American are enjoying your family today on Thanksgiving. Day 22 for the Somethingist Challenge was to be about “something lucky” but I don’t really believe in luck. God will bless me a little or a lot, but luck doesn’t have anything to do with it.
Let me be blessed
Let me be round with joy
Send your spirit and let me be fruitful
Let my house be full of noise
Of commotion and chaos
Toys, laughter, and clothes
Bless me with long nights
Filled with teddy bears and one more story
Let the fevers be few and the hugs many
Let help be near and fear far away
Give us patience to handle the blessings
Bless us greatly dear Lord
It is National Blog Posting Month and while I have not made a post to my blog every day, I am keeping up with the Somethingist Challenge by posting to my Instagram or by doing catch-up posts here on my poetry blog. Today’s prompt is “something terrifying.” This is a short free verse poem about how Jesus will one day come back and we will all have to face God. I believe that if you do not have Jesus as your savior and advocate when you go in front of God, that you will be sent to hell. I try to tell people this when I feel I am in an appropriate setting and someone is open to hearing about religion and my beliefs. This poem is about when I see people reject Jesus.
my vision was of death
I called out
trying to warn them
they said my words were
confusing and archaic
just let death come
we will brave it alone
no help needed
Today I am playing catch up. I am posting a haiku for Day 18 of NaBloPoMo. The theme for yesterday is “something obvious.” It is obvious that the person celebrating their birthday is aging, but sometimes it surprises us when everyone else has too.
birthday cake frosting
all the beards in the room are white
another year gone
May 6, 2018
I am posting one of my free verse poems for today. The Somethingist prompt for today is “something celebratory.” I am thankful that God gave me the gift of writing and that He occasionally gives me poems to write.
Thank you God for this gift.
Thank you for allowing little me,
to build a bridge where there had been a rift.
The soothing words do not come from me,
I’m not always that wise.
Because of You the poems be.
Thank you for making me a cistern.
I prayed for you to use me,
and now it’s my turn.
I am the vessel to pour out.
The precious jar of ointment.
Your gracious name I shout!
I give the honor and glory to Jesus.
I am but the pen,
writing the word that pleases…
Today’s prompt from the Somethingist Challenge was to a post about “something illuminated” so I thought I would share this poem. I wrote this on a Wednesday Night as Bible Study started. Our churches offer so many ways to help, but people do not take advantage. People are always saying they want answers, but then they say that they don’t have time for church. The answers to many questions that you have, about yourself, and about society, are in the Bible. People who go to church regularly know this, but are too afraid (or lazy) to invite friends to church. People who read their Bibles regularly find so much comfort by what they read, but yet they hesitate to recommend that book to friends when discussing books, or discussing how confusing life can be. Volunteering at the church brings so much confidence and fulfillment, but people want someone else to do it while they sit at home and complain about how they have nothing to do and no friends to do it with.
drops of water hit the pond’s surface
but make no ripple or echo
corn stalks grow but produce no fruit
words are spoken and heard
but nobody moves no hand stirs
the fields are furrowed and tilled
but no one drops seeds
then they cry as they starve
wondering why nothing grew
while seeds rot in the shed
photo curtesy of Poets.org
This post is for Day 10 and 11. I could NOT think of a poem for a deal, or a poem about no deal. I have decided in 2018 that posting every day is just not for me. I am also not one of those people that can churn out a poem every day. They say you should write every day, but I think “they” are people without children or people who can afford a nanny.
The prompt for Day 11 of National Poetry Month was to write a warning poem. I immediately knew what I wanted the subject to be on, but I couldn’t get my errands done and my brain in writing mode until today. So here is day 11’s poem. It is a Rispetto, the kind with 8 lines and 11 syllables in each line, it is not supposed to have end rhymes but they just kind of appeared. What do you think?
The End of Time
your grandma told you when you were a child
it’s a story so old she heard it when she
herself was but a child on her dad’s knee
It’s all over but the shouting, so we wait
for when the angels blow that trumpet and shout
we will all rise up and the dead will come out
Jesus came once and is coming back again
when heaven is built, He will call us all home
They bled me for words
not knowing I was all used up
Like the woman at the well standing
next to everlasting water
but feeling dry as
dead bones in the desert
I thought my well had gone dry
then I heard a splash
I wrote this for a #WrittenRiver prompt. There is always hope. There is always something to write about. Pick a different form, pick a different medium. There is water in the desert, one just has to know where to look. Are you making a new year’s resolution that has to do with writing? Tell me about it in the comments.
Cobwebs On My Soul
As I clean here in this quiet house,
I pray to the Lord:
“Lord please knock the dust off of my heart.
help me to be passionate again,
to speak for the hurting souls
who cannot speak for themselves.
Clean the cobwebs off of my soul
and give me a purpose.”
a wild rose
grafted to make it stronger
the way of Christ
Today’s prompt was “a way of” I changed “a” to “the” and wrote about the greatest love we will ever know. Christ hung on a cross for us. In doing that He made a way for us; now you don’t have to be Jewish to be a part of God’s family. Once you accept that Christ died for you then you become grafted into the family of God.
And if the people of Israel turn from their unbelief, they will be grafted in again, for God has the power to graft them back into the tree. You, by nature, were a branch cut from a wild olive tree. So if God was willing to do something contrary to nature by grafting you into his cultivated tree, he will be far more eager to graft the original branches back into the tree where they belong. Romans 11:23-24 NLT
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an open door
with no lock to shut it
God is my way maker
Today’s poem is a senryu, but it is all I could come up with. I kept thinking of verses out of the Bible. Today’s prompt was “a door” yesterday’s prompt was “beckoning.”
Do remember that haiku are usually not written in three sentence fragments, or one complete sentence. There is usually one fragment and a phrase in the other two lines. The fragment is separated by a kireji, or a cutting word. The word should be so strong that the reader takes a mental pause as they are reading your haiku. I am trying to accomplish this with my poetry this year in National Haiku Writing Month.
If you would like to learn more, then go to my What is Haiku? page. Also, stop by the Facebook page where most of us poets meet to get a prompt and share our work.