Book List: November

Read:

1. Moonraker

2. The Wind in the Willows

3. The Princess and the Goblin

4. Thunderball

5. The Prayer of Jabez for Teens

6. Warm Bodies

7. Speaker for the Dead

8. Celtic Fairy Tales

9. For Your Eyes Only

Bought:

1. The Prayer of Jabez for Teens 

2. River of Destiny 

3. Warm Bodies 

4. Northern Lights 

5. Diamonds Are Forever 

6. Celtic Britain 

7. A Dance with Dragons 

8. Jane Eyre

Dreaming

As the sun fell, darkness rising up,

I lay my head down and dreamed;

Great marvels, dead memories given life,

New and fresh in the dreamscape.

A once friend friends again laughter

Of a weeper ringing in my ears

As a child unborn asked me to dance.

Then I was a child, unmarked by time

With flesh of soft butterfly dust,

Fragile to the dearest touch of love

So that love was kept at bay.

Onward in places unknown, yet familiar

Through nonsense feelings and colors bright

In kaleidoscopic, mismatching ways; a

Journey through my deepest, unseen soul.

Fire breathing leviathan, leather wings

Beating back my peace in hopes of panic,

Teeth gleaming an eerie blue, calling me

To shrinking, trembling despair, transforming

And then I was a lamb in your arms,

The noise of all else fading away.

Broom Tree

The broom tree was my last resort,

A place so alone in the wilderness

Without water or good, completely alone

As vultures wheeled above, waiting for

My last breath. You aren’t seen either

And though I followed your words,

The despair has still taken a hold of

My weak heart and I am finished.

The darkness inside is too vile to

Allow you near and I just want to

Doe, so don’t bother finding me in the

Harsh, desert wasteland. No, why are

You coming out here, walking my way?

A raven with food, stream softly

Winding near me, gifts I take grudgingly;

I’m still sick and broken, you know.

You’d best leave me in my shame.

No, why are you still here, as

I cry a thousand tears and more,

Yet still, you wait, watching over me.

Is there hope? Can my feet leave

This place to the cave where

We will meet? DO you truly want

Me, waiting until I am not full

Of my despairing, selfish thoughts?

Will I leave this place alive?

The Choice

 In the wasteland, among the tribes of dogs, she was the wolf, all alone in the crowds. Some thought she was alone by choice of the others but the truth was, the choice was ultimately hers and she reveled in it. Solitude was her sweet sister, days on end without a word spoken. Isolated by choice.

 Yet was it always her choice? Or was the source of her choices now spawned from the need to survive in the past? To fit in, she tried so hard to be with them, of them, one of them and yet time and again she was slammed into the wall until her bones were shattered and she withdrew.

 A choice, to be alone, but is it a choice when there’s only one way? Acceptance is for others, to be as they are and so she stopped seeking the dream. It became her new dream, new identity and there was no going back. So now it was her choice, a path of her own without friend to lift from the falls. Tears cried on starless nights fall unchecked and unseen and by morning, have made no impact to the world.

 Is it her choice to be alone? It is now, but still, buried somewhere deep within the mausoleum of her soul lies that yearning hope to be called out to, asked to join the group. Perhaps one day, a little girl sitting on a bench by herself will be approached, hands out; “Come play with us.”

Salt and Light

 There among the sugar sit salt grains looking for all the world like the white crystals it fraternizes with. So different, yet to the eye, who can tell? The salt should make a difference, preserving the breaking, cracking world, bandaging the wounds so deep and holding on to the disintegrating culture. Yet indistinguishable, it combines into the melting pot of society. Where is the different? Why does the rot continue on, unpreserved by our lackluster efforts?

 Flavoring a grey bland existence, parching the soul so it yearns for liquid pure and precious. Promises kept, keepers of the way not sweet, salt is, gentle to the hard hearted weepers and life giving to even the most dead soul, reviving from the depths of the earth.

 And in the starless night when questions pummel the mind, cloudy skies of pain overhead, even the smallest struck match makes a difference. Warmth, such sweet comfort in a night so cold, a difference in a consistent darkness. Fog is heavy and deadly among the rocks in the sea but a beam cutting through can become a lifeline back to safety.

 Every child knows that the monsters under the bed won’t attack if the lights are on, so can’t we be the permanent night light? Light to bring comfort when shadows dance and light to chase the hungry fears from the whimpering infant. Ringing across the glen revealing truth; monsters are only rocks and trees in the wind.

 In the world dark and bland should both salt and light be present and we are those. Different to make a difference to change the structure and the skeleton of society. Don’t let the table be left empty so that the meal be consumed untasted and to eat in the dark is not advised either. Flip the light switch on and please pass the salt.

Rising Waters

“Where are you”, you who once said

Be still, all is well and the storm fell

Silent then, but this is now and the

Clouds are crowding across the skyscape

Of my world; “where are you” now?

Now, as the rain starts to fall, turning

Ashes into un-treadable mud, my heart

Runs in rivulets like candle wax till

It’s misshapen and cold, breathing its

Last. Heaven’s love is seen no more,

Even the memory battered and bitter now;

“where are you?” The floods rise, crushing

My existence and I try so hard to swim

But my brokenness makes me sink down

Where Life is only a word, and it’s all

I can do, one last cry out to you

As I let go of my very self, sightless,

Heart stops with a final sigh, “where…

Are you?”

Bursting through the waters, a great power

And strong arms enveloping my soul

As life returns to my empty insides,

And as a hand waves over my eyes

So sight so sweet is restored,

I see Love, lighter than all darkness,

And the dearest whisper, “Here I am.”

Wasteland

(I'll be reading this one at an open mic night at my school)

Across the icy wasteland, wind whistles

In low tones, tearing bits of warmth from

My weary walking soul. Softly but surely

I tread through frozen fields, trembling

With cold so cruel, a constant all my days

As I journey across the land. A lonely place,

This is, memories of merrier times my sweet

Comfort when the storm clouds crowd above.

Still, well worn memories lose their sharpness

And then I truly am alone, the crunch

Of crackling ice beneath my feet the

Only sound in this, a dark bleak world.

For so far, I traveled, but even the strongest

Soldier fails, after a time, and I stumbled,

Slipped, and suddenly I knew I was lost,

Limbs broken, day growing later and night

Creeping upon me; I was finished, a corpse

Growing colder, alone on the road in the dark.

I hadn’t imagined that someone would save me,

See me fall and fail, then give up all hope;

Yet in the darkness, lamp lifted high, he

Knelt beside me; “Dear one. I am here.”

As the wind whistled around us, he picked

Up my pitiful form and carried me across

The final stretch, to safety and warmth.

So it was there in that terrible darkness

That I met the most faithful friend.

Seed in the Ground

 The seed has potential for greatness. It sat in a bag with other seeds, ready for new life, for exciting things. Brought out into the light, the seed smiled. Now life would truly begin, with joy. But then the seed was put in the ground, in a hole so tight, so cold and dark. The seed was so lost, so confused and hurt by what had happened.

 “This isn’t fair! It’s a mistake! Is my life to end before it begins?”

“Yes.” The darkness whispered.

  Life that was green began to die in the ground, hope and dreams rotting away. The seed called out, and then was still. But then…

 Then came new life!

 Then the seed was reborn, bursting through the soil triumphantly, full of hope and joy. There was always a great plan, the seed had never to fear. Death was merely a preparation for growth and new glorious, unimaginable things.

Failing Forward

Once again over rocks, I’ve stumbled

And fallen hard upon the ground, my journey

Stopped and I cry out in frustration, I

Messed up, failed again and let you down

And the pain of disappointing you, heavy

On my heart, fears rushing into my mind

And I’m so sorry, echoing in the valley,

Then back again to mock me, failure.

But while I may have failed again, this

Failure is a lesson, progress in myself

Despite the appearance of falling behind.

I’ve failed but not lost, failing forward

Time and again until I finally reach the end.

Not Today

I’m sorry but I can’t

Come out and play with you,

Not today and not ever

Because I’m not myself now.

You were a good playmate,

Well, I used to think

So, anyway, but not now

Because, you see, I’m not

You anymore! I’m a new

Creation and my playground

Is out in the light,

So I’m sorry, old self

But I can’t play today.

No Alms

All I asked was for alms,

To fill my belly one more day,

Hope for minimal survival weakening

And this is all there is.

Day after mind numbing day,

I sit here, passed by the

Healthy, strong and perfect,

Useful while I am useless.

I asked for no great

Thing, doubtful even of that,

As they stopped before me.

And sure enough, no alms;

Why do I drag myself

Here all for nothing, weak

Hope beating fainter, dying.

“No alms. But rise up,

And walk!” The impossible,

I would never ask for,

And yet it was given,

Mercy overcoming small dreams

And I began to walk.

Raised From The Dead

With claws, an iron grip around my soul,

The demons of my fears and sins giggle

As they drag me to towards the pit of darkness.

I long to struggle, yet I know I deserve

To be lost forever, trapped and chained down

Against a stone cold slab in fiery dampness;

That is my well deserving fate and I resign.

In my grave, new home of my heart, one

Tear of hopelessness and pain down my face

And then I let go because it is finished.

Except it’s not, for there, in blazing glory

With eyes so overwhelmingly kind, hands out

To pull me from the mire I’ve been tossed into.

“You are mine.” With finality, no room to argue

And from darkness I’m drawn into pure light,

Glorious light so cleansing and redeeming

Chains broken by his strong hands, joyfully

Twirling me around, laughter of sweet delight.

Redeeming love so undeserved and new life

Changing me into the most beautiful child.

Prelude

Once in darkness, my heart did lie

Where chains drew close so I might die,

And though I knew the light would heal,

The pain inside was just so real.

To show my wounds and bring to light,

That right there was half the fight

And only then could I break free

From clever lies that held onto me.

The voice of truth, it held my heart

As the darkness ripped me apart;

Then truth replaced my broken pride

And now I have no need to hide.

My heart and soul are now unchained,

The glory of God in me proclaimed

And in the light I will now tread;

The darkness in me is finally dead.

Control in All

Even when the powers of darkness

Seem to have everything in their claws;

When a close companion cheaply betrays

And evening falls swifter than a stone,

Even then is power in His hands.

When powers of the teachers twists

And rulers plot for their own gain,

As the gates of hell open up

To put a triumphant end to good,

Even so, He was fully in control.

And now, in my own dark times,

Can I not reply on His complete control?

Tempus Fugit

We believe the clock will never stop

Or the notebook to always be full,

The pen to always bleed new ink,

Lazy summer days to follow another.

Like babies in blanket warm

Without care or fear of the rain,

Laughter being our non-sustaining bread,

Soft, careless kisses our unfulfilling wine.

But all those promises grow cold

As new lines are drawn by time

And eyes bright are dimmed down

As the travelling sun begins to set.

So for our tick-tocking time here

To not be reliant only on sunbeams,

Let us hold hands, never let go

And grow old with grace and joy.

Galaxy of Longing

 Oh, such things in this wide world, a starscape of wishes, hopes and twinkling dreams. My heart leaps and falls with the changing tides and with it, my desires dear and memories, fading even as I breathe. A universe apart, are we, weak willed to speak in the silence and though we both know, we are not brave.

 The heart pulls, tugs at things light years from this small place, pretty things so precious and despite its’ force, gravity makes dreams fall. The sun was too hot to sojourn upon and with sorrow, we could not meet there. I sent you a stardust telegram instead, in the hollow hope of reaching you before the moon had time to wan.

 Across the expanses, every passing ring a reminder of what was lost and little by little, the scorching beams of sunlight melts even the ice on Pluto. Mu hands reach out to touch the last lonely rays as they fade away forever and still, the heart longs. In a murky nebula where you are not found, still believing you will be found, in time, for time is all I have in this wide world.

 Pulsing light, one of who knows how many billions, somehow your light will match mine and hearts will become fused together until no force on earth or in space can re-establish the separate selves. So I will swim slowly across this galaxy of longing and hope we’ll one day land on the same dying star, and we will finally see the dawn of a new delightful dream.

Beyond the Glass

The pitter patter against

The cold window pane was

A steady beat as I cried

At the cruelty of life.

With words so swift,

My fragile world of glass

Was shattered beyond repair

And now I sit among

The countless shards.

Slowly down the glass,

I watch rain droplets

Reflect my streaming tears,

Falling one by one

Adding to my inner despair.

But there is a voice

Calling to me from beyond

The cold, spattered glass.

A call to shift my

Nearsighted gaze, to

See past the dripping

Drops, past the sorrow,

And through the window.

Suddenly revealed to me

Is a glorious sight;

Green shoots rising from

The ashy ground, new

Life proclaiming a mystery

So breathtakingly wondrous.

So, despite the cold rain,

I focus, with sweet grace,

On the glorious plan

That lies beyond the glass,

And one day, the rain

Will forever cease to fall.

What Faith Is

 Faith is not always a sweet feeling inside, honey flowing in milky fields of blessings. It’s not always feeling bold and striding against the current, completely unaware of glances from strangers cold. Faith isn’t a constant “well done”, a sovereign pat on the back or a reward given every time some small step is taken.

 Faith is stepping out after the ledge seems to end and fully trusting in a net beneath. It’s being caught out in a never ending rainstorm and continuing to force one foot in front of the other, believing that the sun will shine again one day. Faith is sitting on a high rock while sinking sand is all around, peaceful in the highest danger.

 It is not a path smoothly glazed and gentle for tender feet. The path is strongly laid out but stones so sharp cover it and branches bare will reach out to snare you. Sunshine is not guaranteed, no, in fact, the biting storms and valleys of deepest decent are promised to you, things to be counted on.

 This is faith, raw and unmoving through all times, good and bad. An anchor weighed down, worn but not worn out, constantly added to with experience and new memories. To hold onto a thing unseen no matter what the cost or how illogical it may seem. To trust in words written so long ago and still believe, despite trials of fire and water. Faith is not dependant on good or bad, blessings sweet or a thousand curses upon your name.

 Faith is steadfast in all things.

Death of the Grey Swan

Why did you do it, white swans,

Why turn on one different from you?

Did she come to you, resigned at fate

With her head laid low to the ground?

Or did you sneak in the night as

She slept in blissful unawareness,

So sure of tomorrow’s hopeful dawn?

Haughty, gazing in what, jealousy?

Surely not, your feathers so pure and

Yet, they noticed her, not you two,

And so she had to lose her life.

Preening your feathers as though

All is well, blood stains on the ground,

And there will be no justice.

Yet I know now that your beauty

Does not go past your feathers.

For These Things

These things I pray for;
courage to face the future,
wisdom when looking behind,
faithfulness despite heavy storms,
a heart of endless joy,
strength to say thank you
for breaking my heart,
and the ever knowledge
of your sweet love.
All these and more
do I humbly ask for.

Drinking Seawater

So many fools drinking seawater,

Eyes wider than their brain space.

Yes, there’s an ocean of water

To fill your empty gut, quench thirst;

You think yourself so rich.

Yet no matter how you gain,

Consuming more and more still,

Bursting but hungry for more;

It will never be enough.

Noses turned up at a small

Pool of precious fresh water,

For the quantity is too meager.

Don’t you know that seawater

Only makes you more thirsty? 

Wild Fire

For so long, only dry kindling

Resting inside, uselessly doing nothing.

Yet it took only a small spark,

Alive and full of potential, to

Begin something great, a wild fire

To burn through the dross and

Bring forth the light of hope,

Life given for a purpose.

Passion began and let rampant

Across the land, fire bright

In the eyes of the once blind

Cripples who now dance with joy.

Spread fire across the dry land

So it may be revitalized

And prepared for something great.

Hands of a Murderer

The sticky blood covered my pale hands,

And though I washed them time and again,

The stains of what I had done remained.

Echoes of our cries, the mob so frenzied,

Determined for blood to be spilled,

Though we did not quite understand why,

Oh, I can’t stop hearing my own voice.

That night is forever burned into my mind,

Torches, dogs skulking among our feet

And the rising hunger of our dark hearts,

All now bringing me to my knees, in tears.

His words ring in my mind now, cutting

Deeply, for the love and gentleness in them

Puts my previous anger to utter shame.

But that shame has come too late,

And my endless tears won’t revive him.

I will always be haunted by my sin,

Having slaughtered the purest lamb,

My ears and heart having been stone cold

But not now; now broken and so sorry.

Can there be any way for a murderer

To be forgiven, blood scrubbed away?