A candle flickering with light -
The comfort of a lonely night,
Where melancholy shades of me
Blur with the raindrops perfectly
And where my soul, seeking to nest,
On scribbled page discovers rest.
The air is thick with scent of pine,
The heart is merry with a rhyme,
The storm outside keeps on, despite,
The comfort of my lonely night.

You mention that you're tired.
They tell you that you're weak.
You say you had five hours of sleep,
They say that's what they had all week.

It's not that your day didn't ****,
It's just that theirs was worse.
Your uncle's in the hospital?
Well, theirs is in a hearse.

You share a funny story, then,
Some memory you miss,
Only to have them respond with,
"Wait 'till you hear this-"

It's not that you're not funny,
You may be humorous.
It's just that they happen to be
A little more hilarious.

At some point, conversation,
On your end, goes bone dry.
You're left feeling dejected
And don't seem to know why.

The motive of the One-Upper
Is still an open question.
Just make sure you aren't one-
Is my one suggestion.

The dead rest and I rest with them
under the shade of the maple leaves.
Their world is cold, eternal, cramped;
mine: sunny, free,
temporary.
We share a home but they are confined
while I am free to roam and wander,
or lie upon their mossy bed as I read
about yet another world -
Imaginary; existing somewhere in between.
People come and go as the day drags on.
Sunlight glints off the headboards.
They arrive slowly. Leave quickly.
We stay.
The air is fragrant with the scent of freshly turned soil; their blanket, my bedsheet. This is a land of peace
and I am a guest,
temporarily.

She watches me
as I illuminate her
head on the pillow,
still cornering the daylight
into the rear window.

She lays, outstretched,
filling the back seat of the car
with unwrapped thoughts,
too deep;
my rays can only reach so far.

Her sleepy eyelids blink
at me in question.
A suggestion?
I hide my face behind a cloud.
"'till soon," I whisper.
I'm only just a surface moon.

Hate, Doubt
Uncertainty, Fear
Has crept in the hearts
Of many this year

Spirits have weakened
Love has grown cold
As we watch, with defeat
Revelations unfold

'One nation under God'
Now torn and divided
The 'States of America'
But no longer 'United'

Let us not place our faith
In the 'red' or the 'blue'
But instead on God's promise
Which we know to be true

Let us speak, unafraid
To be shunned or oppressed
For it's time that our faith
Be put to the test

Let God be our hope
And our refuge in fear
Let our hearts be made ready
For His coming is near!

rejoice, oh rejoice,
who are weary and lost!
turn your eyes to the blood
that was shed on the cross

Jesus paid the full price
for your wickedest deed,
there is nothing to do but rejoice-
you are freed!

He was beaten and mocked;
unjustly accused,
and He died on the cross, marked
"the King of the Jews"

rejoice, oh rejoice,
for His blood has been shed!
accept it and live,
"it is finished!" He said

how can I sit still when the world
just outside my window is
bending, twisting,
changing,
shedding its skin in a beautiful array of colors;
becoming more alive
with each passing moment...?
i long to be a part of its every sunrise and sunset,
to explore the depth of each mountain, to fill my lungs with its crisp, fresh air,
and to dance on its
soft green carpet
with my head turned up
to meet the rain.

my branch bends
with the weight of
ripe fruit
and my basket is empty.

when you perceive God's grace,
you simultaneously uncover
it's reward: flawless,
untainted Love
and the moment you begin
to understand the substance of it,
you can't help but
cease resisting the current
and allowing grace
to pull you to the surface
where you can float
in perfect peace

the sun is a warm
blanket draped across
your shoulders

you pedal faster
letting the salty wind
break on your face

the boardwalk
stretches for miles
and you catch sight
of him, pedaling ahead,
a red blur against
endless blue

he stops and looks
back over his shoulder,
waiting for you
to close the distance

and as you pull up beside
him, your hair
tangled, your heart racing,
you smile
because you're
home

the difference between seeking to find me and seeking to stumble into me is the guarantee of only one of those.

solitude is a peculiar thing, for it is both freeing and bounding.
how can one be imprisoned by their own solitude?

a blanket of white
descends slowly and steadily,
pausing
only to weave silky threads
through the evergreens.
it resides gently
upon its terminal resting place,
muting the muddy earth
with a barely audible "shh.."
and the finality
of an icy embrace.

Thick, heavy raindrops beat against the window, reflecting the moonbeams as they chased each other down the window pane.
I watched, fixating my gaze on one rivulet at a time as it joined with another, and another, and another.
It was midnight, and I sat wrapped up in a fleece blanket by the window.  The steam rising from my mug mingled with my warm breath. My mind was blank, with only the steady rhythm of rain in the distance.

patience is not just waiting. it is a practice of composure and humility. if hope is the thing with feathers, patience is a smooth riverbed stone: gentle, yet uncompromising.

My family's gone, there's no one home;
It's only me - who's home alone.
I should not hear a single squeak,
There shouldn't even be a creak,

So what's that thumping that I hear?
It must mean one thing: death is near.
"You're an adult, you'll be just fine",
I tell myself as I dial "nine"..

Was that a knock upon the door?
My heart beats faster than before.
I know it's closed, I've checked the lock,
At least my killer knows to knock.

I cannot sleep, though I'm in bed,
I've made amends with God instead.
If He decides that it's my time,
Then this will be my very last rhyme.

I hear a bang, and then a break,
My head shoots up; there's no mistake!
I turn my music volume high
So I won't hear the way I die.

I run upstairs, desk lamp in hand
Over my head, ready to land..
And right before it did just that,
I remembered: I have a cat.

The light fades and the day drains;
Its secrets left untold
And whether the sun will rise again,
Is not by us foretold.

Today has been a gift to you
Despite its aches and sorrows;
Another chance for you to claim
Unlimited tomorrows.

So do what you can, with what you have
And give thanks to the One above.
Give more than you get, and leave more than you take,
And do all these things in love.

it's not
the fear
that stunts
your growth,
it's the
choice

We all know of someone who's tougher than nails
     Amid sorrow and failure, whose courage prevails
The one who is down but denies his defeat
     The one who will rise back up on his feet,

The one whose voice is as strong as it's steady
     The one whose knees don't feel like spaghetti
Upon whose shoulder we often have cried
     The one who is fearless...
     But shaking inside.

Once upon a special day,
Twenty years ago,
God placed a legend on this earth:
Anzhelika Van Gogh.

She's the epitome of art,
Her curls are a sculpture.
Even the coffee that she spills
Creates an abstract picture.

When she walks into a room,
All eyes turn to stare.
It may or may not be because
She overturned a chair.

Eating healthy is a chore,
Water just won't do.
She'll wash down her chicken wings
With a Mountain Dew.

Her fashion inspiration
Is any mom of four.
All outfits are determined by
The options on the floor.

She's wild and chaotic.
But often, so is art.
The more you get to know her,
The more you see her heart.

Fellas, are you hearing this?
She's beauty AND she's brains.
But bring umbrellas with you
'Cause in her life, Christ reigns.

She'll leave an impact on your life,
And shower you with love.
Happy birthday to the gift
God sent us from above.

and
just like
   tree buds
    in the
  spring,
i have been
     granted
  a season
     to grow

My dearest Prince Charming, am I being stood up?
It's starting to look like you'll never show up.

There's thoughts in my head that are hard to ignore;
Like you showing up to another front door.

Maybe you're hurt, bleeding out on the ground,
Or worse - you've decided to just turn around.

Your horse will not ride, it's dying of hunger,
Or maybe you've met someone else that is younger.

I wish you would send me your current location,
I'd order a faster mode of transportation.

And if you're asleep in the shades of a tree,
I hope that you're dreaming a sweet dream of me.

Keep moving, dear prince, clear the path with your sword,
At the end of this journey will be a reward.

It will be you and me, together at last,
And it can happen soon, if you ride very fast.

But no matter how long your painful endeavor
I pray that you get here, better late than never.

first love is
a candle flame
you watch from afar,
admiring its red hues,
enchanted
by its tenderness,
yearning
for its comfort
but then you allow yourself
to get too close,
letting the passion consume you,
not feeling the burn
until
you are reduced to ashes

a world of cotton
lies above
white puffs
s c a t t e r e d into the blue.
I watch them move
from a world below
and wonder
if they’re watching me too.

they met
online
he was
so fine
his words
were sweet
she wished
they'd meet
he was
on guard
she still
fell hard
and then
one day
he did
not stay
he led
her on
just to
be gone
after
goodbye
she had
a cry
but now
with time
she is
just fine
his messages
have been erased
his memory
has been replaced.

Today I watched you fall again.
I felt your weary heart.
The burden you've been carrying
Was tearing you apart.

I longed to take your pain away,
I longed to make you whole.
If you would just look up at Me,
I'd surely mend your soul.

But you continued steadily,
Relying on yourself.
Pushing every thought of Me
Onto the farthest shelf.

You thought you had everyone fooled,
You put up a facade.
But you can’t hide even one tear
From the Almighty God.

My child, why are you ashamed?
Why do you hide, unspoken?
My job is not to heal the whole,
I’ve come to mend the broken.

the keeper's yellow canary dwelt in her cage,
          her smooth, silky feathers untouched,
    tucked gently to her sides,
as she listened to the soothing quivers of her own beating heart.
and when came morning,
her joyful song echoed all around,
illuminating even the darkest shadows
of her beloved keeper's heart.

but alas, the day had come:
      the keeper left the gate unhinged.
it beckoned freedom,
   whispered chances,
and with a ruffle of those dainty wings,
the keeper's yellow canary
fled home.

days, weeks, a month had passed,
the keeper waited for her return
       searching for a glimpse of yellow,
              the only color he had truly known,
hopeful,
    but afraid
his heart has found another home.

and then, come nightfall,
he saw the bird under his window
  the perfect feathers he once knew
        were torn and mangled,
stained deep red.

he lifted her
and cradled her broken wings in his palms
until they were whole again.
and then he placed her gently in her cage,
sealing the gate forever.
vowing never again
     to let her taste her freedom.

they fell into
a sea of words
and drowned side by side
in silence.

i am the sea
and you think you are a submarine
completely submerged
in the deepest part of me,
but you are a boat
barely touching the surface of the water.
and the only way to let you in
is to fill you up
with me.

I cannot help but think of you
And though it’s been a while,
When I remember times with you,
I cannot help but smile.

I know I’m just a friend to you
And that’s okay with me.
But still it makes me sad to think
That’s all we’ll ever be.

I overthink each move you do
And every word you say.
Looking for the smallest hint
That you feel the same way.

I’m driving myself crazy here
And you don’t have a clue.
One question keeps me up at night:
Would you care if you knew..

I’m crazy about you?

in the vast, blue sea
a ripple is born.

it churns,
rises,
pulls,
ascends,
intensifies,

breaks
onto the shore.