(no subject)
Just putting up some of my old poetry to make sure that it's archived somewhere.
I wrote this for class a few years back. I'm not particularly good at haiku, but these came out okay.
Internal heating.
smooth wood and the scent of pine
little glass baubles glow.
Old leather and wood
the scent of fire, snow and ash
falling together.
Frozen grass and mud
icicles frosting the eaves
Endless stars above.
Creaking chain and snow
mirror crust of ice on top
bordered by warm light.
Open light and fire
prickly carpet under cold toes,
bright colors beckon.
The yard is filled with
frozen dirty snow angels and
half finished Snow-Men.
I like sestina. They're fun. I started writing this about three years ago, when I was playing around with a story idea that involved medieval lesbians. The story didn't pan out, but I still like the poem.
It has always been the Word
That tells us what we need to know of God
And lets us know that we have been found
Keeping faith in the pews
Waiting beneath the steeples
To be rewarded with a smile
So tell me, why is it that my smiles
Are met only with censure, and reproving words
When I come to the steeples
looking for God
And instead meet you in the pews
And believe myself found.
Is the fact that I find
Joy in your smile
As we kneel together in the pews
So wrong? I can find no words
In all the books of God
To tell me that I should feel but one love beneath the steeples.
So we meet beneath the steeples,
And I come to find
That as time passes, God
Seems ever more to reside in your smile
And it seems that your words
Give me more peace than those ring out over the pews
Still, I am told that I must kneel in the pews
And pray beneath the steeples
And humble myself before the mighty Words
That ring out, and find
myself solemn, and must not smile
When I come in the house of God
But could there be such cruelty in God?
From all that I have heard whispered in the pews
He is kind, and smiles
upon love, whether it is comes in the streets or beneath the steeples
For it is in God that all love is found,
Whether it comes from their sermons or your words.
And tell me this; Where should I find God in the steeples
and the pews if I could not find him
in your words, your smile, your laugh?
I wrote this for class a few years back. I'm not particularly good at haiku, but these came out okay.
Internal heating.
smooth wood and the scent of pine
little glass baubles glow.
Old leather and wood
the scent of fire, snow and ash
falling together.
Frozen grass and mud
icicles frosting the eaves
Endless stars above.
Creaking chain and snow
mirror crust of ice on top
bordered by warm light.
Open light and fire
prickly carpet under cold toes,
bright colors beckon.
The yard is filled with
frozen dirty snow angels and
half finished Snow-Men.
I like sestina. They're fun. I started writing this about three years ago, when I was playing around with a story idea that involved medieval lesbians. The story didn't pan out, but I still like the poem.
It has always been the Word
That tells us what we need to know of God
And lets us know that we have been found
Keeping faith in the pews
Waiting beneath the steeples
To be rewarded with a smile
So tell me, why is it that my smiles
Are met only with censure, and reproving words
When I come to the steeples
looking for God
And instead meet you in the pews
And believe myself found.
Is the fact that I find
Joy in your smile
As we kneel together in the pews
So wrong? I can find no words
In all the books of God
To tell me that I should feel but one love beneath the steeples.
So we meet beneath the steeples,
And I come to find
That as time passes, God
Seems ever more to reside in your smile
And it seems that your words
Give me more peace than those ring out over the pews
Still, I am told that I must kneel in the pews
And pray beneath the steeples
And humble myself before the mighty Words
That ring out, and find
myself solemn, and must not smile
When I come in the house of God
But could there be such cruelty in God?
From all that I have heard whispered in the pews
He is kind, and smiles
upon love, whether it is comes in the streets or beneath the steeples
For it is in God that all love is found,
Whether it comes from their sermons or your words.
And tell me this; Where should I find God in the steeples
and the pews if I could not find him
in your words, your smile, your laugh?