Monthly Archives: January 2016

A Daisy: A Rondeau Poem

All I wish for is a daisy

The kind that is in stories of fairies

So soft, so sweet, the petals are perfect white

A gift to a princess from a knight

A flower that represents all goodly


Innocence, hope, symbol of simple beauty

A small token the world hasn’t turned dirty

When all hope is gone, a passion to ignite

I wish for a daisy


I know this simple, small hope seems flimsy

But on the battle field, this is a rally

A reason not to die for, but for fight

Find hope in war-torn meadow, I might

Hold tight to future possibility

I wish for a daisy






This poem is inspired by my second favorite author’s quotes about hope:

“Hope is hugging me, holding me in its arms, wiping away my tears and telling me that today and tomorrow and two days from now I will be just fine and I’m so delirious I actually dare to believe it.”

Tahereh Mafi in Shatter Me



It’s like a drop of honey, a field of tulips blooming in the springtime. It’s a fresh rain, a whispered promise, a cloudless sky, the perfect punctuation mark at the end of a sentence. And it’s the only thing in the world keeping me afloat.”

Taherah Mafi in Unravel Me


“Hope is a pocket of possibility.
I’m holding it in my hand.”

Taherah Mafi in Shatter Me




He tried to surround himself with stuff

with so much material gains he tried to lose himself

he tried to drown himself in possessions

so that his un-cried tears did not drown him instead.



The Guy With The Yellow Bike via / CC BY-NC

Life-Size Glad Trash Bags

Max Lucado in his book Just Like Jesus originally describes our troubles as trash. Unwanted garbage comes our way and we are handed a bag of trash. The first thing the world wants us to do is to hide it. Because the world, the culture has taught us that it is bad to not be okay, it is bad to struggle, it is bad to be vulnerable. You put the trash bag under your coat or under your skirt; of course this won’t fool anyone. Nevertheless, we trick ourselves into thinking it will because we aren’t all that different from the little kid that thinks that if he only covers his eyes no one will see him. Soon the hidden trash bag will start to smell; soon family troubles will start to show up at work. However others are too polite to say anything, that it’s ‘none of their business’. Therefore this isn’t just about the ones who hide their trash, but also about the ones who don’t say anything. Someone to talk to, a sympathetic shoulder to cry on, a note of encouragement, a prayer can be the help that someone needs to face their struggles. Caring enough to listen and act can be the stepping stone for a person to start on the road to recovery and stop being resigned to “soul sickness”.

Instead of hiding their trash, others paint the garbage bag green and pretend it is a beautiful tree. They tell their neighbors how gorgeous the tree/garbage is and how blessed they are. They water the ‘tree’ to keep up appearances and to have the luxury of sorrow. They look at the tree everyday and replay over and over the heartache. You look at old pictures of a time that will never be again, you look at the empty crib, you look at the foreclosure papers again and again. You indulge in the sweet self-torture called, What If? Because the garbage hasn’t been resolved only painted. Those memories, those longings, those bills, will catch up with you, and your beautiful tree made of a painted trash bag will start to reek. No matter how good it might feel to paint your garbage or to replay the heartache, there is no closure.

Others don’t hide or paint their trash but openly show it, but don’t want anyone to do anything about it. They go around and complain, but when help is offered, they refuse, still having that strength and ‘do it yourself’ mentality. However to have maturity and well-rounded strength you need to address and realize your problems  and be willing to do something about it.

We may look at our trash bag and ask why God hasn’t lightened our load, why He hasn’t done anything. The answer may be that we don’t want him to. Because the pain of abuse is easier  than the difficulty of forgiving the one who wronged you. Because the broken memories are easier than the difficulty forming new ones. God won’t  fix what we hide, what we paint, what we complain about, or more importantly what we hide from; not because He doesn’t have the power, but because He is respecting our wishes.



I Wish You

I wish you enough laughs to carry you through the cries

I wish you enough do-nothing-days to help you through the hectic ones

I wish you enough blissful moments that calm you in the storm

I wish you enough rejection to make the success feel even better

I wish you enough quiet moments to appreciate the small things and praise God for big things

I wish you enough people that make you giggle like school girls to soothe you through the grumpy ones

I wish you enough gloomy days to be grateful for the bright ones

I wish you happy birthday Mama.


Just a little personalized version for my Mom’s birthday of I Wish You Enough which you can read here. Happy birthday Mama! 🙂



More Than A Kelly Clarkson Song

Stronger by Michael Carroll took the Kelly Clarkson song ‘Stronger’ to the next level. Stronger has as much action as in a comicbook, and as much emotion as pages can handle. Written four years ago, Carroll links his two series together The New Heroes and Superhuman in a excellent tie-in. The protagonist, Brawn, is a thirteen foot tall, blue hairless monster, or so everyone thinks.


Flipping between two elegantly constructed and heart wrenching storylines, the readers are in Brawn’s mind at pivotal years of his life. Starting when Brawn is twelve years old, scared and imprisoned; betrayal closing in on him more than the walls. In the other timeline where all superpowers are eliminated, Brawn is protecting his fellow inmates in a mining prison. Brawn spends most of his excuse for a life in prison because the world cannot accept him or he is on the run from those who wish to use him for their own cause.


From  the many novels that I have held close to my heart, I have never read a masterpiece this agonizingly beautiful. My heart was broken and mended in the characters and in the writing style Carroll artfully creates. Carroll’s use of writing devices and plot twists put any other storyteller to shame, making him my favorite author. I trust Brawn in a deeper and more intimate way than I have with any other character before. Stronger is more than just exercise of imagination, but a true test of what the human spirit is capable of, even if it takes a superhuman to realize that.


If giant blue anti-heroes and mis-judged evil masterminds are not your forte, then read it for a crushing example of human nature. Though this book might seem like it is written for young adults; however, anyone with a heart should read it. Carroll took me into a new universe that I do not want to live in, but visit occasionally. I met new friends that intrigued me as well causing me cower, making Stronger my favorite novel of all time.



A Different Cinderella Story

There once was a prince who had a ball and all the fair maidens came and danced with him. The ball lasted hours upon hours but still he did not find a woman who would catch him when he fell in love. The last hour of the ball there was one who could catch him, and she too fell for him. They danced and it felt to the Prince as if he was dancing in the clouds. Dancing in heaven with this woman whose feet barely touched the ground.

Suddenly she apologized and said that she must go. The woman weaved her way through the ballroom and through the crowd. The Prince chased after her, wanting to know when he could see her again. He finally caught up with her in front of the palace. Strangely, there was no carriage to pick her up.

Prince called out to his mysterious maiden, “My lady, what is your name? Where do you come from?”

The woman replied, “Where I am from, gravity does not know my name.”



Photomatt28 via / CC BY-NC-ND

Like A Bird Flying

Freedom has often been personified by flying or by birds. The idea of being able to fly away from our troubles and stress and float on the wind with not a care. To let the whims of daydreams be like a gentle breeze beneath the wings of a bird. When one area is stormy or cold, just fly to another part of the world.

As free as a bird. In flying there is freedom and in freedom there is hope. Hope of making your own way in the world. Hope of accomplishing your dreams. Hope that if only you control your fate, troubles will turn into a distant memory.

We have hope and freedom in flying.

If flying was just like walking, where would our hope be?

We believe flying is freedom because there are no interruptions with roads, stop signs, traffic, authorities.  If flying like a bird had these same things, what would we dream to do? How would we dream to run away?

Things are only precious because they are limited.

Diamonds were only made three times in the history of earth, they are limited, so they are precious. Family is precious because you only have one. Flying is precious because we can’t.

Time is one of the most precious things. Time is money. Wasting time. The idea of time travelling and undoing mistakes. Time is ever inching closer to its end. Only having 24 hours until the day and its routine begins again. The hope that the new years will be different, the transition of time. Time is precious because we only have a finite supply. And because it can end at any moment.

Breathing is something we do without even thinking about it. No one inhales just for the pure joy of breath. Expect when air has been limited. Inhaling the sweet smell of natural, clean, fresh air after being in an airplane, a dirty factory, a cloud of perfume. Breathing is only special when we can’t have it. Our lives depend on the common.

The value of everything is determined by its supply. Limitations make the world go round.

Without boundaries, where are we? Floating through space coming from nowhere going to nothing in no amount of time with no reason.

Limitations gives us identity.

In this age of rebelling against authority, we are rebelling against limitations. Rebelling against what gives us identity and what makes the world go round.

We rebel in hope of freedom and rebel against any limitation. Then what defines freedom, if in that state there is no lines, no boundaries?

We are ever pushing forward, doing what the other guy couldn’t, always progressing. Always breaking limits.

We crawl. We walk. We created the wheel. We created boats. We created the horse drawn carriage.  We created the submarine. We created the train. We created the automobile. We created the plane. We created the spaceship. We created the internet. Always breaking limitations.

What happens when we break all our limits?

There has always been things to explore. The world, the big world, the tiny world, the people of the world, the high world, the low world, the space outside the world.

What happens when we have explored the world and everything beyond and below?

Preciousness stems from limitations.

Without any limits we have all the power to do anything imaginable, but nothing to do.

If flying was just like walking, where would our hope be?

Why was man not made with gills?

To come up for air.



Patrick Mayon via / CC BY-NC