lhyrre
Only in you do I find peace, my Redeemer. So many questions drown my reason in screams of agony, as the protestations of a screeching wife drowns the goodwill of the most gracious of husbands. I have days where the evidence of you is somet…
Hey guys! I'm sorry for being absent. I've got midterms. -.- I'll probably be out for another week... Sorry!
The weeping, drooping yellow glow Pouring from the light Soaks into my flaking skin; Tinting the faded wallpaper The same color as My suffocating hope. If the door opens, Will color sit on the other side? Or is the whole world soaked In me…
I came home to find two boxes of chocolates and a Pandora bead. My daddy is the greatest!
Without Him, we are Struggling in the darkness, Searching for meaning in a hopeless world, For color in a lifeless body. We search for an answer to the puzzle of life, But you hold the pieces that we never can find, The answer to questi…
Tiny leafy fingertips, Striving towards the light, Climb on arms of progress, Gaining, gaining height. Happily they rustle, Achieving their great quest, As light that they are catching, Sinks down into the west. And yet, when the moon ris…
Writing free verse is like playing tennis with the net down. ~Robert Frost
What do you choose for your pallet, O Lord, As you set up your Atlas, your easel? What do you splash on Aurora's skirts While Helios prepares for his ride? Do you borrow from Neptune's endless depths? Do you snatch up Dawn's heralding pinks…
After the thousandth plodding line, (That pedantic, graceless curse,) I feel the need to teach a lesson On the basic nature of verse. What is the key to a fluid poem? (Techniques and opinions aside,) Does it lie in pouring your heart on th…
I don't quite understand. The poems I love and cherish -- That I've worked on for weeks-- Get nary a like or comment, Despite their brilliant verse. But those I throw on paper, The newborns of my mind, Are passionately popular Despite the…
I've noticed Most of my poems Are about plants. My parents Like to garden So that helps. New metaphors Are probably needed For originality. That would be A serious problem If I cared. Oops. "Even in literature and art, no man who both…
The soft green buds of knowledge peep up through the dirt - Soft contrast of potential at first sight of the light. The petals of understanding slowly start to unfurl - Delicate blue maturity revealed by the dawning sun. The open flower …
A moment of sun Holds a lifetime of joy If we could be still.
The bleakest canvas before me stretches In great swathes of salt-blue and foaming white -- True silence reigning in secretive wind That breathes salt secrets of long-dead men Past my cheek and up into the mangroves. This stone seat by the …
The shivering fingers and trembling toes are standing on the edge Stomach dropping in nervous fear seconds stretching beyond ~To anticipate~ The toes curl around the edge as the moment stretches Until eyes close and a mind flies away wa…
I. A poem is a snapshot of the soul; A feeling frozen in time, A memory stuck on flypaper, A window into the garden Stopped between night and morning. II. A poem is an ink-pressed imprint Of an orchestra set to paper; A p…
I rush about from place to place To find somewhere to hide Screaming my soul's displeasure To those whom I pass by. And sometimes I am romping Racing from pure joy Chattering like a maniac (Or every girl and boy.) As the days get hotter …
A monster sits in my chest and my belly Coiled and waiting to strike. It rips open my newly-torn, nearly-healed scabs Spears my heart on a razor-sharp pike. Every time I have wandered out, And put my heart on display - That monster sits i…
"I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: “I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept his claim to be God.” That is the one thing we must not say. A man …
An abuelita came to my register, with bitter, ungrateful returns. Expensive sweatpants from a grown-up daughter and a hand-picked grandson’s sweater. Her brown-spotted hands shook with age as she sorted out her receipts -- she outlined the…
Come, my loves -- Let us sit and sing Of a world without value! How evolved! How loving! If you want this world, my children, There's just - One - Simple - Key -- Make your premise No premise at all And paint the lenses Of your spectac…
A/N: This is a poetic description of my daily battle with ADHD. Haven't I gotten it wrong? My mind is so full of questions - jockeying for answers that only create more questions. If my mind is a bag, it's full of writhing snakes - will …
The concrete man Stares up at the sky Kissing all feet That pass him by.
In vibrant purple, I saw a little girl drinking water out of the corner of my eye. In a moment, she became, with clarity, the girl she would be, the woman she was, and the children she had left behind...
The west glows golden As the winter chill descends. The lone cicada sings.