Category Archives: poetry

The Light and Dark Side of Imagination

I’m afraid of the dark

I sleep with a nightlight

and I always have to have a light at the end of a dark hallway.

I’m not afraid of the dark because of the unknown

or because I can’t control what is there,

I’m afraid because of what I imagine there.

I know there are not boogey-men or vampires or robbers

but there is a difference between imagination and reality

Imagination can dream stories and cities and people

as an escape from reality

Imagination can create innovations

to better reality

Imagination can believe in possibilities

to change future reality

Imagination can transform monsters in my mind

into monsters hiding in the dark of reality

But I’ll take these monsters

so that I can have my imagination

of people

of places

of inventions

of hope

of faith

Light may show us what is there

what is reality

but darkness shows us

what could be there

and maybe,

what should be there

imagination

Teddy Bear

Sometimes I wish I could be a little kid’s teddy bear.

I could be held tight and loved,

they’d whisper secrets and good night wishes in my ear,

I’d go to tea parties or fight evil masterminds,

I could be a princess or fly to the moon.

I’d be able to comfort them when they had to go to the doctors,

I’d go on family vacations and look out the window on a plane!

I’d be their closest friend and be with them everywhere.

But then the kid would get older

and have to go to school.

How I would long for them to come home for a nice snuggie embrace,

the hours would get longer and longer because they’d go to friend’s houses after school.

One day they’d be late to school and I would end up on the floor,

sadly, I wouldn’t be missed for a few days,

I begin to wonder if I am still loved at all . . .

Until I am picked up, held close and kissed on the head,

My boy or girl would exclaim, “I have been looking all over for you!”

I would be hugged extra close that night!

School days wore on and

I’d watch them practicing their spelling, then their multiplication tables, then geography.

Eventually there was pages of homework!

And I thought all you had to do to be smart was know how to give a really good hug.

Sometimes late at night, my boy or girl would whisper to me about their crush at school,

I loved knowing their secrets and still being held close again.

One afternoon the crush was going to come over

My boy or girl would run around in a frenzy making sure their room was up to par,

They’d pick me up

(I would think they’d want to show me off!)

but instead they would say, “I can’t have you lying around! I don’t need my crush still thinking I sleep with a teddy bear!”

I’d be tossed in the closet along with some dirty old socks!

How dare they cast me away when I kept their secret for so long!

Maybe I didn’t like this crush so much after all?

But they seemed to make my boy or girl happy and that’s all that matters,

right?

I would begin to find my new home in the closet,

it was dark and small,

but I would just pretend it was peaceful and cozy.

I was picked up years later and what I saw was a room full of boxes,

the room had changed more than that,

there was college flags, sports jerseys, band posters.

My boy or girl would wipe the dust away from my matted down fluffy and say,

“Oh, teddy bear, I almost forgot about you!

Little good you’d do me now, I am going off to college. I couldn’t let you be seen there.”

So with little care,

I’d be tossed in this big black trash bag.

Maybe after all,

I wouldn’t want to be a teddy bear.

teddy-bear-315390_960_720

Pixabay/user:PublicDomainPictures

Being Human

Some say being human is an art

each person has his own style

his own way of brushing paint and choices across

this canvas we call life

his own way of sculpting his perspective  on

this statue we call life

his own way of tracing patterns and cutting the cloth of

this fabric we call life

his own way of sketching lines only to erase them on

this paper we call life

each way a creation of new life

each way making something that wasn’t there before

each way budding with imagination

Some say being human is a science

a method to the madness

with notes and numbers

organized in neat little piles

with experiments and graphs

to quantify and qualify

each and every experience

and research papers to write up afterwards

each adding something to the collective knowledge

each adding to the answered questions and creating many unanswered ones

Some say being human is randomness

no light in the darkness

no purpose or meaning

just people and events colliding like pin balls

everything left up to chance and luck

a complete external locus of control

no rhyme or reason to living

Some say being human is a dance

twirling and spinning with others

on this planet sized dance floor

here with one dance partner for a moment

and another the next

a hip and a hop and a jump

a smile and a tear and a kiss

a dip and a twist and a shake

a wave and a laugh and a sigh

listening to the music and moving with it

no scheming, only living

The art

The science

The randomness

The dance

of being human

each believes in something

each creates something

each lives for something

Not which is good or bad

neither better nor worse

rather,

which fits you?

The craft

and the skill

and the technique

and the flair

and the talent

of being human

is being you

face-636092_960_720

Pixabay/user:geralt

Drowning in Words ~In 100 Words

The

Hate

Door

But

Candy Cane

Bunny

Eyelash

For

Fast Forward

Do

Card

F

Lose

Why

Liver

And

Touch

Vibrant

Zebra

And there are times when I am drowning in words

His words,

her thoughts,

their words about me,

swear words,

articulate words,

sweet words.

Sometimes it is just too much trouble to filter them,

to categorize them,

to put them in their own nice little sparkly boxes.

And so they clog my throat,

sting my eyes,

make me wrinkle my nose.

Words:

too much,

too little.

But right now,

I feel like all of them are in my head.

A_picture_is_worth_a_thousand_words

 

Know Vs. Feel

So the SAT is tomorrow.

I have been preparing my whole life for this 5 hour test

But I have been studying everyday since February

At least 30 practice questions a night,

hours and hours on Khan Academy,

countless SAT study sessions staying after school,

over 500 flashcards that my English teacher gave me (love you Ms. Tabone!),

poured over a 850+ page textbook,

practice test after practice test after practice test.

I mean what better to do than grammar questions at 2 AM?

I know that I am prepared,

And yet,

I don’t feel prepared.

So I study to convince myself

I take every advantage I can

just so that I can feel safe.

I know that I am a little strange

for spending ten minutes debating what pencils to buy to use on the SAT

(eraser, price, strength, where it was made, pre-sharpened, how it smells)

but I do these things to feel secure.

In my brain,

I know that I am ready,

but I want to feel it in my soul.

So I have 4 new batteries in my calculator,

5 sharpened pencils

and

1 calm heart.

test-986769_960_720

Pixabay/user:lecroitg

I Am So Glad

I am so glad that I don’t have a friend who worries about having the in-style jeans,

but instead she has the seemingly out-of-style response of actually answering truthfully when asked “How are you?”

I am so glad that I don’t have a friend who is concerned about having blonde highlights in her hair,

but instead having the highlights of kindness, respect, love, and joy in her life.

I am so glad that I don’t have a friend who listens to the ‘dirty music’,

but instead jams out to Christian artists.

I am so glad that I don’t have a friend who constantly complains that “Life sucks”,

but instead she complains that too many people are ungrateful for how amazing life is here.

I am so glad that I don’t have a friend who is obsessed with money,

but instead she is obsessed with raising money for her charity 30 Famine for starving children.

I am so glad that I don’t have a friend who complains about school,

but instead makes me realize time and time again how I appreciate my education.

I am so glad that I don’t have a friend who is distracted by boys,

but instead knows what to focus on and unwilling to change her boundaries.

I am so glad that I don’t have a friend who goes ga-ga over Cure for Wellness

but instead geeks with me about The Lego Batman Movie.

I am so glad that I don’t have a friend who anxious about her make-up being top-notch

but instead cares about top-notch values.

I am so glad that I have you,

my best friend.

friend-986159_960_720

Pixabay/user:Mary_L

Simple Fear

I sometimes wish

that our fears

stayed as simple

as the monster under the bed

stayed as simple

as the shadow in the corner.

Instead of life choices

and concerns over our nation

and how our future will look five, ten years from now.

But those fears from childhood

only represent the anxieties of adulthood

fear and worry about the unknown and uncontrollable.

But only sometimes do I wish that.

Only sometimes because

I know my God holds history and the future

in the palm of His hand

just like He holds me.


“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?”

-Matthew 6:25-27