#stainedglass
A long unopened folder
Fell from a shelf,
Spewing unfinished poems
Across the room
Like shards of colored glass,
Edged as sharp as razor wire.
We know those fragments;
And how deep they can cut.
They speak of life and death,
Love and leaving,
Good, evil, and Roads.
I may arrange them
In a stained glass mosaic;
Not much symmetry,
But piecemealed,
Telling of my Inquisition.
Feb 5, 2024
Feb 5, 2024 at 11:51 AM UTC
I met someone
we had some fun
then we were done
he made me so happy I couldn’t write
he made me so happy I didn’t bite
he made me so hopeful I thought we might...
I met this man
whose daddy hand
could burn my sand
we stole each other’s shirts
kissed each other where it hurts
planted flowers in these dirts
repainted stained and tainted glass
gave each other words to pass
decided not to pay for class
alas...
sand falls through spaces
between fingers’ interlaces
wind blows it in our faces
we shared some time
body soul and mind
there is no rewind
I said things I didn’t mean
Across the darkness like a screen
Pages burned and turned the scene
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 12:58 PM UTC
Light of the world you broke through the dark
Came into this world and made your mark
We were lost and confused with no one to guide
Wrapped up in sin and shame we thought we could hide
Broken and cracked you picked up the pieces
Of our hearts. You smoothed the creases
Piece by piece you began to put us back
You gave us the support we once lacked
Slowly things started to take shape once more
And what I saw shook me to the core
You took the broken pieces and created something new
The picture upon which I gazed rang so true
A stained-glass window, a cross, a tree, and a heart
Out of death, love made life; a brand-new start.
I stood there smiling as I looked upon the scene
As I drowned in your mercy and love I was made clean
The stained-glass shone so beautifully
And my life will flourish fruitfully
For the light that now shines from within
Has made me more open
To your love and light, the son in the dawn.
At times, darkness creeps in and isn’t all gone
You are the light in me; an eternal flame
And since then I have never been the same
You are the star I follow to keep me going straight
But sometimes I wander and I make a mistake
You shine so bright that the darkness has to flee,
Light of the world help me truly see!
Dec 23, 2017
Dec 23, 2017 at 3:21 PM UTC
the most beautiful glass hearts are shattered,
patterned with perfect imperfections,
stained with painful expression of
rejection
dejection
reconnection
ingrained in the scattered reflection:
white light sliced into spectrum ascension,
the pension of attention.
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 3:56 PM UTC
My stained glass window
Changed the color of my outlook.
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 9:24 AM UTC
When you change the colour of the view,
The world takes on a different hue.
Writing's both a window and a mirror,
You can see life and yourself clearer.
This stained glass window labelled a poem,
Different phrases, different colours, different gems.
The scales of glass in an iron frame,
My words must fit the form.
Each word a different shard on the palette,
A poetic mosaic, not quite transparent.
A translucent lens.
I will you see creation through it
Extenuating before you in a piquant pigment.
In a tint I can show you joy,
In a separate, pane. Tainted.
Yellow, blue, red and green,
And a thousand nuances yet unseen.
You can't read all of it, nor look through every colour,
But perhaps the icon on the window can be discerned
When they tessellate together, the person I am trying to show, the bigger picture, the grand design.
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 5:26 PM UTC
The story teller writes
For a naked character
On a bare stage.
The one character,
One line play.
Profound, all encompassing;
A brief run,
But a blockbuster
With opening nights
In all the capital cities.
The visualist
Could use one brush stroke,
One lump of unmolded clay,
An unchiseled stone,
Weathered driftwood
Or a piece of glass
To display in the great museums
For our interpretation
Of the exposed truth.
One note could orchestrate
On string, wind or skin,
And the composition would be complete.
The maestro could bow and walk;
No encore could repeat.
I want one line of verse
To embelish my yearnings;
To explain the cosmos,
The meaning and crux
Of this place,
Including us.
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 11:50 AM UTC
Stained glass shattered shards
raining down in my sight
landing on the copses of lies
watching light with dead eyes
the coldest nights hold my stolen breath
which grows into longest death
thoughts slip by on wings of yesterday
in the silence there is so much to say
hesitant waves flow through the light
resting on the longest night
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 5:50 PM UTC
you're probably the reason i wake up unable to breathe thinking there are snakes slithering around in my bed, because you did the exact same. i'll never find the words to tell you just the way you shattered my stained glass, i went to dozens of cathedrals to try and beg you to fix my mosaics and give me forgiveness, but not even the hierarchy could help me now. I went from Nortre Dame all the way to St. Paul's trying to find peace but no glass will ever be the same as mine maybe a pastiche but I will never feel as if I am as beautiful as the Troyes, so I walk around with ****** palms grasping to the remaining pieces I have from that night. I'm gasping for air now, in hysteria I'm flipping through the pages of a poor mans good book trying to find the terms for repentance or contrition or whatever it could be named, I'm not sure because I've never pleaded like this before and I'll scream to the all the gods that might listen, I'll be ****** if Im going to go down like this. I found another chapel he's got mosaics like no other has ever seen, I'm looking into angelic hues of browns and blues and greens. I'm running through the backrooms trying to find an exit, I'm in a rut to get to a comforting haven. don't waste your time on me I scream. Ive been cast out of heaven for my sins and I'm paying for my crimes -my rosary has fallen to the ground. it's just us two now; I want to run, the apocalypse inside of me is tearing me apart. I've had a martyr in my bed and I remember the taste of his lips, now I recall how your mouth resembled that of a serpent and how it tasted -of venom. you lied while your head was between my thighs, oh the stigmata of a dismal life. I've found a new savior and I am more than what you've dictated to everyone else. I've undergone apostasy and devouted myself to a new God, I might even wear white with him.
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 11:04 AM UTC
Stained glass shattered shards
raining down in my sight
landing on the copses of lies
watching light with dead eyes
the coldest nights hold my stolen breath
which grows into longest death
thoughts slip by on wings of yesterday
in the silence there is so much to say
hesitant waves flow through the light
resting on the longest night
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 3:52 PM UTC
glass windows
crystal panes
quite mesmerized am I
colored parts
crimson shards
I wish to have you for my eyes
womanly arch above my head
your shapes are all that I have bled
my story starts like your creation
there was a time when all you were
was magnificent idea
in the mind of a man
a quiet plan unwelcome in the land
a time when you were a naked chaos
trampled by cattle
the dust watched your birth
you rose screaming from earth
men cursed while they worked
a torture
an eyesore
with potential at best
Barren poles for arms
Slabs of marble legs
when your beauty arrived
all were surprised
and verified the validity
of your maker's pride
his blood, your paint
his teeth become your enameled wall
the iris of his eyes, your windows
his mind the crowning dome
his life the mascara of your shadows
the bones are at rest now
no one pounds out their song
on the old wintry walls
and the days are long
the wounds shown are old
long out of style
you will soon recover from man's victory
and slip back into old ways
for from dust you were taken
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 10:06 AM UTC
The golden ichor of morning dew,
Dripped off blue leaves of different hue,
Falling to the soft ground below,
To feed the plants that were young and new.
White ravens flew over the bay,
Where the never-ending ocean lay.
It's silver tides lapped against the edge,
Of the purple beaches with its spray.
And over the horizon, the black sun rose,
Bringing black light to all the world knows,
As black iron holding this world together,
Under a red sky, red as a rose.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 12:00 AM UTC