Is It

I’m sensing a stereotype developing

Warriors haunted with PTSD

Strike fear into their charges’ hearts,

As though the shepherds would devour

Their own lambs

I’m driven to ask

If there is not a soldier

Holed up within himself

Now, now that the champagne is quiet

And the confetti lies dead,

Unwilling to crawl out of his skull to so much

As kill a fly,

Staring out of his cells,

Thinking that to unlearn

The war in his hands

And take up gentleness again

Is not an effort more worthy

Than a quick and quiet self-violence

That might come easier than

Flaring out at an oblivious psychological trigger.

I Laid Me Down {draft 3}

to sleep and did not know the wolf to fear.

I lay me down, and sleep comes no more, for

The light that glares within the wolf’s eye is

Too near and never will sleep.

I lay me down and sleep, for nearer still

The shepherd sees me this night and he sees

The wolf, who never will understand nor

Can ever overwhelm this other light

And will come not a step closer.

It was in vain to wake, rise early and

In vain to stay the wolf with darting, watching eyes,

In vain to eat my daily bread in snatches and fear.

I have laid me down

because He gave me, beloved, sleep.

{inspired by Psalm 4:8; 23; 91:5-6; 121:4; 127:2; John 1:5; 10:1-18; and personal experience}

Binding Tides

I feared the sea’s mercurial pull, stayed

Onshore, when I was small. But now

 I find

With some dismay the ocean is in me.

Moons pull and shove me, but beyond the dark

Blue moods I see a Star for me. So, go,

Rage, waves. See if you can blot out that high,

Eternal north star.

Your consolation

Prize? This. A faulty compass, cast aside.

Miranda by John William Waterhouse

 

Miscellanea Item No. 2

I'm of the following opinion.

Sometimes people--friend, acquaintance, or a chance-meet--make mistakes and are very painfully aware of the enormity of the decisions' stupidity or recklessness. And they are sorry for the deed, not just the consequence.

When these people come to me--for advice, to vent, or so on, and whether or not they have done offense to me personally--I hope God gives me the perception to sense that they are indeed sorry. I pray even more for the grace and kindness of my Brother Christ Jesus to see that they have beaten themselves up enough about what they have done and that I will have the ability to take their "club" away from them--they don't need my help heaping up guilt on themselves.

Not everyone who has strayed from the right path needs a thrashing, and if they do, it's very likely not supposed to come from me.

Hugs, tea or coffee, chocolate, silent empathy, or all of the above are maybe better salves for the grieved hearts.

Foundations I Art Class Project

Our professor assigned a folio project for our class. The first page requires us to answer the question "What is art?"
We can quote others if we wish, or we can write our own definitions. Here is mine.

Art results from the methods in which the artist may manipulate various materials in diverse styles — via color, form, and other sensorial elements and principles — to evoke specific emotional, intellectual, and/or physical responses from his or her audience,  be it admiration, fear, disgust, wonder, etc.

What do you think? Have I missed something? Or should it be narrowed down somewhat?

I closed my eyes and leaped

A few days ago, for the first time, I voluntarily submitted three poems (Edifice, The Southern Thing, and Sestina for my Charlotte) to a literary journal--Crazyhorse--for publication. Crazyhorse has published a few works by Billy Collins, a major influence on my own writing. I decided to take a chance with this publication because if his poetry found a niche there, perhaps mine could.

My submission was the 34,411^st.

Prayers.

Very rough draft--suggestions wanted badly

I Laid Me Down

I laid me down to sleep,

Not knowing that the wolf walked near.

I laid me down and sleep

Came no more. Hellfire in the wolf’s

eye is too bright and sleeps

not and forbids me sleep.

I laid me down and slept—

One Shepherd sees through night and

He sees the wolf who does not

And will not understand this light and will not—

Cannot draw one step closer.

It was in vain for me to wake, to

Rise early and run, empty to try staying

The wolf with darting wakeful eye,

To eat my bread in snatching fear.

I lay me down

Because He gave

His beloved sleep.

[unlabeled curiosity]

How awkward it is, waltzing with two left feet
In a stained glass masquerade--
How frightening it is, wearing a broken mask
To a stained glass masquerade.

An unlabeled Seedling, dry and unsprouted for now

Just for the record--

To know what I did

To alienate you so

To know why you aren't you looking me in the eye

when other eyes are on you

Maybe I seem crazy

Too over the edge for your tastes

I stared too long--

my eye lingered too long outside your window

I'm sorry my admiration made you angry.