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Alyssa Underwood Jun 2016
O darkest night, what are you for?
Sometimes to wrestle, sometimes to rest
But always to cling to Jesus more

Though senses are dulled, desires awaken
Aching grows stronger, inhibitions are taken
Less seeing, less hearing, more hunger, more longing
Answers are dimming while questions are thronging

More drilling, more filling
The canyons of my soul
More boring, more pouring
Himself into the hole
More stretching, more catching
Away my gasping breath
More tearing, more sharing
In the union of His death
"But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them *******, that I may gain Christ and be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ--the righteousness that comes from *** and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.

"Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which *** has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."  
~ Philippians 3:7-14

~~~
Alyssa Underwood Dec 2015
Feasting table under a shading tree
Swaddling robe that warmly cleans
Mirror beautifying while it reflects
Sword that pierces yet never rejects
Light penetrating the blackest hole
Water filling and healing the soul
~~~
Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
My wounds are like a canyon
But Your love is like an ocean
Filling it up

My filth is like a mountain
But Your grace is like fresh snow
Falling over it

My rage is like a fire
But Your power is like a hurricane
Blowing it away
~~~
Alyssa Underwood Aug 2017
In the darkness of constricting depression
I begged the Lord to give me joy even if it killed me,
and He promised me it most assuredly would,
for this is joy’s mantra:

“Death to self!”

It is simply not possible to know the deepest kind of joy
until we have experienced the anguish of death to self
with a cruel stake of affliction though our hearts.
For it is there on the altar of sacrifice
when we have finally surrendered what is most dear to us,
when we have willingly brought our costliest gifts
to lay humbly at the feet of the King,
that we are raised up to know firsthand His resurrection joy
through the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings.
No one who has ever truly learned that
“to live is Christ and to die is gain”
has ever escaped this path.

Find me even one.

There is nothing quite like rejection to teach us about ***’s love,
nothing quite like loss to teach us of His joy,
nothing like storms to teach peace,
nothing like ruined plans to teach patience,
nothing like loneliness to teach kindness,
nothing like failure to teach us of His goodness,
nothing like betrayal to teach faithfulness,
nothing like being completely misunderstood to teach gentleness
and nothing like humiliation to teach us self-control.

Why is this?

Because there is nothing like pain to chase us to Jesus
and to teach us to rely so helplessly on His Spirit’s filling.
And when we have His filling, we will know His fruit.
~~~

“For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.”
~Philippians 1:21

“But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them *******, that I may gain Christ and be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ--the righteousness that comes from *** and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead.”
~ Philippians 3:7-11

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the sinful nature with its passions and desires. Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.”
~ Galatians 5:22-25

“Then He said to them all: 'Whoever wants to be My disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow Me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for Me will save it.'“
~ Luke 9:23-24
.
The waves spilled the rising tide
back into the scattered footprints  in the sand
deeply entrenched in life’s mystery,
receding into every breaking wave


A stiff sea breeze put back every grain of sand,
elements of a larger object gathers,
gravity firmed, into the silent shoreline chasms—
the beheld essence washed out to sea
by the fugitive tides and retreating sea-foam


Soon all trodden traces visibly vanish;
unmarked mileposts on a metaphysical pathway
slip away back to a windswept shoreline
and elapsing summer tide


Seabirds glide in slow-motion,
held sway into the shapeless gusts —
as if feathered puppets hovering,
hanging from the rafters
of the burgeoning orange sky


There's an uncommon peace in the renaissance;
effervescent crisp ocean air filling
the indefinable emptiness
marooned within each heartbeat’s echo


Each new breath inhaled,  disappearing within
the unhealed hollow of every thing once believed;
fully aware this life is unholdable as time,
yet feeling many things deeply retained
    in each passing moment—
slipping away like a handful of sand
sifting through all these hands once held


Presence becoming wreathed in a miasma of stillness,
space that levitates like an unpredictable fog
that seeps into the gnawing voids
of an unsated hunger



harlon rivers  ...  August 1st,  2018
a piece from the TRAVELOGUE collection:
https://hellopoetry.com/collection/27104/travelogue/

Getting away from my ordinary life maze seems to be changing perspective; moments still unfold as they are intended, but there is less peripheral distraction, more focus on the simple things that enrich life in the moment.

I did not plan on posting anything else until back to daily Internet access
in Fall ... plus, much I've scribbled these days, seems derivative of the last  pieces i've published: that said, this is of the present moment and as close to peace as I've tread in eons:  Thank you for taking the time to check out something newly written at a time when my web access and participation @ HePo is sporadic at best.   :)  rivers
elaine Jul 20
I.
brown eyes and soft lips; hushed words on cold nights, marijuana filled lungs, constant affection with loving arms always wrapped around my waist.
angst feelings overtake the love that had once moved into the heart of a broken soul, eyes seeking **** in another, loving the next who came by.

II.
pale skin with a caring smile, friendly eyes, living in the greater good, Marlboro pressed against her lips as the painful words begin to tug down her smile.
waves crashing against the rocky shoreline of her mind, fighting about whatever there is to, coming clean with the hurt that has overcome her soul. promising a better life calms the storm raging inside her hazel eyes.

III.
deep blue oceans trapped into the soft craters in her mind. dreadful for the loss of love that slowly destroyed her young mind. skipping school and upset parents.
restless nights, dark circles hiding under the spark in her beautiful eyes that once held her lovers captive. medication slowly slides down her throat as she is accompanied by pills and whiskey, slowly fading away from this pathetic world.

IV.
Smoke fills the midnight air as her petit face quietly enters the crisp cool night, daydreams filling her thoughts that pull her away into a better life.
heartbreak and ***** filled every friday night aching to be released into the adult world, free from all restrictions.

VI.
skin like hot chocolate that melted the cold inside others. laughter filling the room as we stepped in just me and you, never thinking of what was to become.
Hidden secrets became reviled as we said our goodbyes. silence washed over us and soon i took my last glance at the passing girl who once knew me. streetlights dimmed, showing teardrops dripping down as we thought about how it was.
CK Baker Jul 2017
They weren’t all cut from the same cloth
vilified tenders of an iron *****
some were lovers
or lucid dreamers
stage romantics
hidden under jackboots
and skull caps
and switchblade seams

Caste members of a forlorn pack
counting their patchwork and deeds
conjuring demons
around the console
filling dreams
with radio reds
and dusted quarries
and faded sepia prints

Brass knuckles
and marches of the few
lightening bolt cracks
from a chilling blood moon
death’s dark specter
cold and ominous looms
the cobalt sea swells
near the nestled, and lost
Clubhouse at Kiusta
Show us some light, Mr Jimmy
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