Wanting a Time Machine

Another poem before the end of the night, a butterfly or mirror cinquain for Brian’s prompt on the theme of wasted time. Sleep is important, but when I’m really depressed, I don’t really like to do very much so sometimes want to sleep for hours during the day. I have not felt like this since 2 weeks or so ago. 😀


Sweet sleep
Beckoning me,
Wanting a time machine
Or a chance for starting over,
I wait —
Trying
Not to waste more time with closed eyes,
Today I’ve already
Napped enough, please
Enjoy.

Life is still a lot like baking, isn’t it?

Reposting this poem from early March 5 years ago for Fandango’s Flashback Friday and linking with DVerse Open Link. I still relate to this (probably about 10 times more than when I wrote it) and hope to be able to take my own advice and see life like this, even when it feels nasty, and it seems like you’re at rock bottom (and then you realize that rock bottom has a basement…). One hopes that the metaphorical cake that will eventually be baked will NOT taste nasty! In the meantime, I might eat some literal cake to make myself extra cheerful. 🙂 Just kidding but also not.

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When Faith Doesn’t Make You Feel Good

A collection of a few short poems having to do with the Gospel story that I wrote about in the previous post:


i.
She
Hemorrhaged
Blood, very life, for
12 years — then Jesus made her
Healed

ii.
See us
Hemorrhaging
Hope — sometimes wounds bound up,
Then too soon the scarring scabs are
Opened.

iii.
“I’m
Fine”
Builds up
Resentment,
How long must we wait?
Hope’s familiar with the long haul,
Yet this story meant to be encouraging, instead
Is mocking — after all this time
You taunt me snidely,
You watch me
Bleeding
You
Laugh.

iv.
Yes I believe
That God exists; He’s beautiful.
Yes I believe
That God works miracles, relieves
Many aches of life, makes one whole —
Some days it feels deeply painful
That I believe.

Is Hope…?

This was inspired by someone I know, who said the other day, “Don’t wait to have hope.” In some ways, that’s easier said than done, but I had sort of forgotten that you, by definition, don’t have to wait for better times in order to have hope.

Update: shared with DVerse’s OLN on 8/19/2021


Is hope
Something that must
Be gone ’til better times?
The need for it climbs the worse things
Become —

Don’t wait
To dig deep, find
That precious, priceless pearl.
That little flame of hope can save
One’s world.

Purple

Linda’s SoCS prompt today is “color,” and I choose purple. I wrote an etheree and made it as stream-of-consciousness as possible, just counting the syllables per line to be sure it was correct. This was a fun prompt and pretty open-ended, so I might write some more, and it will be fun to read others’ posts also.


See
Purple:
Royalty’s
Lovely color,
And liturgical
Color for Advent, Lent —
Times of expectant waiting.
Reminders of the richness which
Comes after those weeks, months of waiting,
And that the celebration lasts always.

A purple candle for Advent
Photo by George Becker on Pexels.com

Hidden Treasure

This is a little silly, but it happened the other day. I may have hundreds of dollars in unused gift cards at this point. For FOWC: Redeem.


Unused
Gift cards waiting
Hidden, to be redeemed:
Forgotten in my old wallet
Now seen.

HOORAY!

woman holding fan of us dollar bills
Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

P.S. Before posting this, I was thinking about how I’m kind of surprised I didn’t write anything about Jesus. 🙂 “Redeem” is an easy word to use on that topic. One of the major themes of Christianity is redeeming a broken life (and we all have a broken life to some extent) so that even one’s mistakes, when admitted, can be used for good. (see Romans 8:28). Okay, my sermon is over. 🙂

Growing Strawberries

I wrote this string of haiku after observing the strawberry plants in my family’s garden. We have many berries growing and a few flowers on the plants. 

IMG_20210412_132836345

I wrote this poem, in a way, to the little flower and about them. The interesting thing about them is that, even though there are many fully-grown berries by them, they do not compare themselves, and they never think that they are growing too slowly, nor think of themselves as failures. There are lessons that flowers can teach us, I think. And by “us,” of course I mean “me.” 

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