True Life

I wrote this a few days ago when I was feeling discouraged about my life, especially since my grades at school aren’t as good as I want then to be. The truth is, though, that life is so much deeper than grades or even having people’s approval and compliments.

Life does not consist in grades,

Or pretty things, or accolades:

I’ll prove this with my life.

Life does not consist in empty

Words or vain pursuits, you’ll see:

I’ll prove this with my life.

Life is made worthy in deep love,

And worship to our God above:

I’ll prove this with my life.

God all-in-all is glorious,

And Jesus Christ is God-with-us:

I’ll prove this with my life.



A Little Bit of Hope

The first line of this poem was taken from the starting line of a poem by Emily Dickinson.

Hope is the thing with feathers:

A word spoken, taking flight

On the wind of breath —

A word of truth, born in

The Spirit of Truth, borne up,

As hope staves off death.


This poem was inspired by someone I know who always says that orange is the color of hope. She has given me a new respect for this color that I formerly thought was obnoxious.

Orange is the color of happiness.

Orange is the color of Halloween

Pumpkins whose guts are scraped out,

Who have a candle’s light inside.

Orange is the color of falling leaves,

Dying while expecting renaissance,

Trees laying down their crowns.

Orange is the color of these cloths hanging,

Held up at all four corners by white pillars,

Gracing this holy place with beauty.

Orange is the color of hope.


Truth: A Sonnet

I wrote this poem this morning. It was kind of interesting because I didn’t know that it was going to turn into a sonnet. Sometimes, I don’t know how a poem will end at the time that I start writing, and it ends up surprising me! That makes writing even more fun and exciting.

The path to truth is not perfectly paved,

And sometimes it is dark as a dense wood,

But all who seek Him will by Him be saved,

Uttermost and fully, beyond what could

Be ascertained or guessed by human minds.

The light of deepest Love constantly guides,

Though the worn path, seeming serpentine, winds,

As Truth, like a child, seemingly runs, hides;

But all that’s needed is to walk along,

Trusting, trusting, slowly, yet ever more,

Singing, singing, with angels Grace’s song,

Which penetrates stone hearts straight to the core.

The life of faith’s a journey, ever on,

For our Lord lives, and hope is never gone.