writing

Please, can I go too?

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Going to the store?
Yes, I’ll go. Sure, I’ll go.
Please, can I go too?
Anywhere you go, is where I want to be.
I want to go with you.

Lift me up onto your shoulders.
I’m taller than everyone.
Give me your rough hands
to use for reigns;
we’ll ride off toward the sun.

Going to the beach?
Yes, I’ll go. Sure, I’ll go.
Please, can I go too?
Anywhere you go, is where I want to be.
I want to go with you.

Sand is a world of adventure.
We’ll put it in my sandbox.
The ocean gives it up for free.
God knows I like to play.

Anywhere. Anything. Anyhow. Anywho.
Anywhat. Anyone. Anyis. Anydo.
Yes, I’ll go. Sure, I’ll go.
I want to be with you.
I want to go with you.

Your Word

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So will My Word be which goes forth from My mouth;
It will not return to Me empty,
Without accomplishing what I desire,
And without succeeding in the matter for which I sent it.
Isaiah 55:11

Your Word
Lord
sustains me
without it my likeness is poorly drawn

Your Commandments
direct me
push me
to run on

let me hide your Word
inside my heart
may it fill me from within

let it soothe the ache
caused by this world and
expose the damage of sin

help your Word
complete in me
what You’ve seen from the start
a destiny not of this place
but kept safe in Your Heart

Time Out

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One weekend
I decided,
being of the giving kind,
to take my friend Time out,
might he need a break to unwind?
To my view he’d been working too hard,
passing everything in sight,
until night blurred into day and daytime into night.

I asked him, might he speak with his boss,
to request an extended leave?
He replied this was unlikely,
as his boss, Greenwich
was a hard taskmaster and mean.

Nonetheless, upon the issue I prevailed,
until my friend agreed
to take a two-week-sail.
For that 14 day period,
he did not once count,
though he was the only one who knew
since no functioning clocks could sound.

From that day back
and forward
Time has taken occasional rest
because even a man like time
needs to take himself out
to be his best.

Thank You

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Just before or after last Christmas I decided to be more consistent with my writing by resurrecting a WordPress blog that had been dormant for quite some time. I had recently received a lot of encouragement and it gave me the incentive to write more poetry. While putting together the new blog I noticed a challenge put out by WordPress to post every day for 2013. I decided to give it a try and let everyone who read my blog know by putting the badge on my cover page. Today will be my 137th post. Accounting for a few days that I’ve posted more than once, that means I’ve posted over 130 days in a row. I’m looking forward to doing the whole 365.

There have been a lot of great things to come out of writing and publishing every day. For one, it has forced me to investigate different kinds of writing. I’ve explored poetry, song writing, devotionals, and humor. Along the way, I’ve gotten to know fellow bloggers who also believe strongly in writing, especially writing that moves them. I’ve had days when I thought I had written something relevant, only to get little in the way of results. But then I’ve had other days when I wasn’t all that thrilled with what I had put out, only to get lots of positive comments. It continues to be a fantastic learning experience and I just want to sincerely thank everyone who has read, commented, and shown me how fun and rewarding blogging can be. God continues to bless it. It’s my prayer that He is honored by what I write.

Pursue Your Passion

When I began my University studies, all incoming students were required to complete an English essay. This was basically done to judge our creative writing skills and to ensure we would be able to handle the courses and their writing requirements. Sometime later, the scores were posted outside. Although I worked hard, I was not normally an A student, so when I found my score near the top of the hundreds of students, I was surprised. Later on, I wondered whether I should have pursued a degree focused on Creative Writing instead of Journalism. Although I’ve always been grateful for the writing discipline my degree taught me, there have been times when I wished I had pursued something less “practical.”

Now, years later, I have dropped any pretense of being practical, and I’m doing the kind of writing I love, knowing that whether I succeed or not, I will have gone after my passion. I really can’t see any downside to that, no matter what your age. I believe at the end of our lives, we will have infinitely greater regrets over those dreams we failed to chase than the ones we went after. The recipe for success is different for every person, but I believe the efforts to pursue what most brings us alive are always worth it. God plants those desires in us for a reason, after all.

I and U

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I
a
door
U

the
1
eye
most
trust
in
side

U
reached
4th
with
2
hands

With
U
eye
doughnut
knead
2
Hyde

In
sail
or
swim
or
sink

with
U
air’s
know
missing
link

No
matter
how
ruff
the
see

I
a
door
U

Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and will dine with him, and he with Me.
Revelation 3:20

Please and Carrots

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Would you feed me please
and carrots?
It’s what this little bit of me
most dearly loves.
For other children
see,
it may be macaroni
but tender colorfully
grown fare
are what please me.

Would you feed me please
and carrots?
Just stay away from me
see,
with those doughnuts.
They only make me feel slow,
I’m certain
don’t help me grow,
and surely
worse
I perceive,
than no lunch.

Noise

It’s noisy out there…
city fare constant pounding
resounding
to the tune of progress

engines winding up
and winding down
moving citizens round
where do they stop?
they don’t stop…
they rebound

even listless feet
beat the street while
other feet
passing
are in sync
creating rhythm

no chance
for tedium
from the strum
of a corner
guitar whose star
waits
to be discovered

there will be others
to take his place
when the pace
is too fast
and at last
a pause
in the action
occurs

what would it be
worth
if all the
noise on
earth
simply stopped?

would we be
deafened
by the
silence?

No Airbag, Bees and a Dog Pack (Bees)

One Saturday, I was out riding with the usual crowd (gaggle, gang… I especially like what they call a bunch of crows, a murder) when we decided to leave our bikes at the bottom of a hill near the end of our neighborhood. We walked up a ways, past some blackberry bushes and into a little meadow of sorts where the hill leveled off. It’s unfortunate that we were never able to go back there, because it was a really neat place. It would have been a fun area to get together and plan pirate raids, or whatever sophisticated adventures 10-year-old boys can devise. My memory is foggy regarding everyone present… David, because of the bumblebee. Jodi, because what happened was his fault. After we got to the meadow we were hanging out and shooting the breeze. Jodi found a few cans and started throwing them at a line of berry bushes. If you’re a boy and you pick something random up, there’s a law that says you have to throw it. Whatever you try to hit then becomes a target which any other nearby boys must attempt to hit too. You have to do it. It’s a law. Still, what followed was Jodi’s fault, law or no law.

bee

So, like I said, we’re standing there talking and throwing and all of a sudden, they’re all over us. Bees! What smidgen of manliness we were able to display at any given time was now thrown out the window as we began to scream and run for our lives toward our bikes at the bottom of the hill. The whole scene resembled a cartoon as we pedaled madly down the street toward our homes. Bees were falling out one of my short sleeves as they left their barbed stingers in my upper arm. David managed to get stung by a bumble bee which must have been hanging around the honey bee hive, waiting for stupid boys to stop by. David was the biggest, so I guess it was fair that he got bragging rights, since he was stung by the largest bee. Neighborhood stores of Bactine were depleted as we each visited our own first-aid stations. My one swollen arm gave me the appearance of a professional tennis player. Home we stayed, for the rest of the weekend, just in case the bees were conducting surveillance outside each of our houses. Yes, they were good times, the worst of times, the “beest” of times.

To “bee” continued…

“I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike…”

Somewhere I have a photo of myself standing next to my first faux Stingray bicycle on Christmas morning. My smile is huge. A bicycle for a young person means freedom. For the first time, you’re able to expand the physical boundaries of your adventures. The narrow, two lane road we lived just off of saw a lot of traffic because at the time, a small Navy base was located at one end, just off the beach. My family ran a tow service, and periodically a young sailor would drive too fast or too drunk or both. Later, you could tell where the accident had been, due to the new stretch of wooden fencing. I wasn’t allowed to ride my bike on that road since my parents were afraid I’d be run over. Later, when I was older, that five-mile-road between town and the beach was one of my favorite jaunts. bicycle

As I got older, of course, the bikes got bigger too. I put a lot of miles on a Schwinn Varsity that I saved my money to buy. I think it cost around $100. I later regretted buying the small frame, because I got my big growth spurt the next year and raising the saddle was not a perfect solution. I’ve never been much of a mechanic and some lessons along that vein are learned the hard way. One morning I decided to ride the 15 miles to our county seat. Later, I would make that same trip with my sister and my bike would be stolen, only to be returned to me by the police when we made our way there to report the theft. But that’s another story. The day before my first ride I had worked on my bike, mostly cleaning and doing minor adjustments. The brake pads on this model were mounted in such a way that they slid in one end of a bracket. It was important to have the open end facing opposite the direction the wheel was going, otherwise the pressure of the wheel would slide the rubber brake pads out and you would lose the ability to stop. I learned the hard way that I had put the brake pads in backward when they popped out about halfway down a hill connecting to the main thoroughfare. Several drivers witnessed my demise, so after laying my bike down to avoid the traffic at the bottom of the hill I got up and waved that I was okay. Later, after I had made it home, I was listening to a local radio station. The on-air host told about going to work that morning and seeing a bicycle accident. He described exactly what happened to me. The only thing that could have made it better would have been film.