Stuck

One day we went to the fair.
Lights were flashing,
Music trinkled here and there.
Cotton candy poofs in the air.

Booths that proved a strong, courageous man
from a weak one lined the rows.
You proved yourself with the first hammer slam:
the button flew up with a whoosh, zoom, bam.

I decided to go on the ferris wheel;
Not sure what I was thinking.
Disillusioned by the lights, all was surreal.
For I've always hated ferris wheels.

I'm afraid of getting stuck at the top,
the cart swinging wildly in the wind.
No one there to make it stop.
The ground too far below to drop.

So up I went. Around and around.
Stuck in a circle
never looking down to the ground,
hoping that facing upward my fear would be drowned.

But I was stuck as could be.
Trapped alone on the wheel
spinning, spinning endlessly.
No where, no way to flee.
Wondering how I could fix me.

And where were you while I was stuck?
On the bumper cars
is where you tried your luck.
But everything just went amuck.

You were trapped in a corner against a wall.
Continuously ramming your car
into the very same stall,
not recognizing your own downfall.

You rammed and you slammed your car to and fro,
but stuck you remained
with no place to go
not forward nor backward and nothing to show.

There helpless you sat not wondering why,
not puzzled, not weary,
not willing to try.
Not thinking about what being stuck could imply;
Content just on sitting, watching people pass by.

In the beginning.

In the beginning we were

embarking on a journey.

A journey that would lead us

into thorns and briars

And sunbursts and cloudless skies.

We came.

We came willingly, longing to grow.

To become.

And so we started.

We commenced on this journey.

We met rocky paths and climbed

mountains.

We waded through mud.

We watched sunsets.

Slid down rainbows.

Jumped in puddles

And were blown in the wind.

Some days we grew.

Some days we died.

Some days we felt we were

trapped in a never-ending cycle.

A circle that neither begins nor ends.

We wondered if we were becoming.

If we were growing or shrinking or

stagnant.

And one day, we looked back.

We looked back on the paths we had tread,

The mountains we had climbed,

The dreams we had found,

And we saw.

We saw that our lives were not a circle,

but a spiral.

An upward spiral stretching

heavenward beyond the stars.

Feast

=...........................+

X..............................Confusion

+..........................=

Famine

Release

Right now I want to scream;
to cry; to sob;
to let the tears roll down my
cheeks while my nose gets all stuffy.

I want to run away.
Jump in my car and just go
until I can't go any farther.
Until I find solace somewhere.

I want to dive until I touch
the bottom of the ocean,
until I become one with the
waves and fall back in with the tide.

I want a place to hide
when everything becomes too much
to handle; when I just can't
be with anyone anymore.

I want to be somewhere else.
Somewhere I can just be me.
Somewhere I can find myself;
Somewhere far away from noise and congestion.

I want to go where I can love
completely and be loved
completely in return.
I want to feel whole.

I want rejuvenation:
A new shot at life.
A fresh start; A new day,
A day to begin again.

I want a place to rest.
To be free from worry,
Unbound from fear.
A place of security.

I want to breathe deeply
inhaling life and all things good,
exhaling all things destructive.
An escape from suffocation.

At dusk
just before the
street lights buzz,
the fireflies dance
and the crickets chirp
in sync with their flicker.
The drooping trees
and climbing bushes
add to the ambiance:
creating what should be
a magical land
full of awe and wonder.
But the graveness of reality
overpowers any wish of fantasy
and extinguishes
the fireflies' magic
and silences the crickets' chirp
to a mere drone
of dead weight and
disillusion.

Becoming

My mother taught me kindness
when she was kind.
Even when others (including myself)
weren't always kind in return.

My mother taught me to love learning
as she was a natural teacher
who was always learning herself
and made sure we learned lessons
before we went out to play.

My mother taught me to work hard
as she woke every morning well
before the sun to put in
more than a full day's work.

My mother taught me to do my best
as she always tried to do better.
And always expected me to
do my best in school, at church,
and in my relationships with others.

My mother taught me to be brave
and do hard things with her
never-ending encouragement,
her support, and full investment in me.

My mother taught me to put God first
when I saw her quietly studying her
scriptures, sharing gospel insights
over dinner, and the faith and trust
she always put in God.

All that I am or ever hope to
become, I learned from my Mother.

Clunker

First it was the radiator.
Then it was the carburetor.
The tail lights,
and a flat tire--
you're in for a whole new set.
The left gasket goes out
The right one too
The side door's dented
The oil leaks.
Then the brakes
Then the a/c
Then the starter
and the battery
Then the
Then the
Then the
Then the....
Everything is broken.
The original is gone,
a mish-mash of pieces and parts.
An empty frame that
sputters on;
it's fate looming on the horizon:
A used car junkyard.
R.I.P.
Rust In Pieces

You're unfixable--
A clunker with too many flaws.

Told time and again,
it must be true.

Cherry Blossoms

In the spring the time does come
when trees are laced in white;
the blossoms flutter in the breeze
like dresses twirling in delight.

The sweet scent drifting on the breeze--
it sinks into your soul;
it spreads all through you deep inside,
you find it's your heart it's stole.

You long for it to keep you there,
all bright and white and new;
New life bursting all year long--
Bursting, blooming out of you.

But petals fall and flutter down,
they go just one by one;
the rich green leaves will take their place,
their glorious beauty done.

And soon the rich green leaves will fall,
they'll tumble to the ground;
the limbs all sparse and barren,
no sign of life is found.

Until another year begins
and dances in with style;
Twirling, spinning, life returns,
rewarding life's dim trial.

the elephant

It was written on the walls

But nobody read

It whispered in the noise and in the silence

But nobody listened

It shimmered through the lights

But nobody turned them off

Until now

And then the darkness settled

still writing

I'm still writing, but not teaching. I miss teaching. A lot. I am writing quite often, but not posting here, don't feel that anything is really ready to go public quite yet. Maybe soon? Right now I should be writing my midterm exam essays. And clearly, I'm not doing that to write this meaningless little tidbit. Meh...there you have it. This is what I do when I don't know what to write. I start writing something else. Hoping that what I really, really need to be writing (because it's late and I'm tired and I have more to do than just write two exam essays and because I should have been in bed over an hour ago and because I should tutor tomorrow and because I have to work tomorrow and because I am so overwhelmed and and and and and and AND). An unfinished sentence, that just stalls, just like I'm doing right now.