a maiden dares to veil her face, hidden now by shrouds of midnight blue silk and lace
and although the voluminous fabric hides her wide and darting eyes,
her sigh of wistfulness does not escape the notice of the one who soft approaches.
and though she steps delicately over the conduits of merchants mean and voracious, varied
and as she tiptoes past the worn and crumbling pillars of viaducts grand and tragic both,
her walk of longing unfulfilled is not hidden from the eyes which spy her now, he approaches.
and little pricks of starlight strewn in her silken hair do frame a face and form of beauty
yet her tears do hotly fall upon the earth, even as her hands softly brush the boughs of trees, eagerly.
and so as her face pales in no uncertain terms, he steps close and whispers, lo – he approaches.
Oh, my lady sweet and friend most dear, I have a jewel for thou to fix in thine raven hair. Yea, accept it, I pray!
But, oh, my lord – I must confess, I have already a jewel of mine own that in my hair I wear.
Yes, it is of luster dim and quickly fading and not by half as glorious as the one you bear.
But, oh, my lord – I must confess, it is precious to me. And I love it so, even so I dare, my lord.
My lady loved and friend most dear, that jewel of yours, does it not make thine heart sere, a leaf upon the wind.
I pray thee, take this rising sun, this gem of greatest price. To thee I offer, maiden fair. It is thine.
and so as he kneels before her upon the land, a blinding jewel of light and beauty in his hand,
he bows his head in quick anticipation and quivering does she take this jewel from him, exultation!
and oh she lifts the rich-wrought gem to her brow and though she cries, her song is one of beauty unrivaled.
oh the veil falls from her face, oh the light beams upon that maiden’s silk and lace
and although her eyes shimmer wetly with her tears, no longer do her eyes dart to and fro in fears,
her sigh of wistfulness now resolved, her heart swells in newest blissful song, eternity approaches.
Tag: creative
Strange Seasons
Of courtship sweet, of tongues and eyes
and varied things
Of dancing feet, of sashes, skirts
and sundry things.
Of dancing eyes, of cups of coffee
that she brings.
What more can I say to her this night, I pray?
What more can be prayed by me this day, I say?
I say.
I say.
I pray.
I daresay.
Of life so sweet, of lips and songs
that she sings.
What more do I say?
I rejoice this night and laugh this day.
I dance upon the moor and I pray.
I pray.
Neon Haze
Morning, all!! Quick update time. It’s a wonderfully sticky Monday morning here in Houston and as the day slowly lightens, thought I’d let you know what I’ve been up to lately as I sip on my peppermint mocha…
In actuality, this weekend was a nice and calm one, which I appreciated much. Friday night, went with Sammy to a random church’s young adult group meeting, where he was engaged to preach. He was much blessed by God and preached mightily on 2 Samuel 11 and the effects sin has on us. Powerful, convicting and encouraging – God be praised! Saturday, I got many random errands done, then went to Natalie and Andrew’s engagement/wedding party in the afternoon, where it was awesome to celebrate their soon marriage!! Sunday was church and afterwards, I went straight home and did various household chores before finally sitting down and having my dinner of leftover lasagna and a tomato salad. And…with my dinner, watched Return of the King. It’d been far too long. And even more fun was me and Maryanne watched it in sync, so we got to text each other random comments back and forth as we watched. Fun times…just wished we lived closer so we could watch in person!!! Alas. Oh! I also was much engaged in writing yesterday afternoon…got a powerful urge to put a story to paper, even though I am now doubting my literary powers and ability to do the themes of this story justice. I’m about 2200 words in and halfway done, but it is most rough so far and I am unsure whether it will get to where it needs to be. We shall see. I need to fly now, but shall leave you the opening…sorry to be such a tease. Love you all, my friends!!
A window stained, spattered with raindrops and grim in both general aura and appearance. Thunder rumbled in the far off distance and the harsh neon lights glared into the window, through the rain streaked plastic and into the cramped room. The room, mean in appearance and dim lit with a single lamp beside the bed, had a singularly utilitarian appearance. A bed, a sink and a mirror. Nothing more, nothing less. Nothing more was needed. Nothing less was used.
A Situation
The loss of oxygen was actually not that alarming, considering the circumstances. Multiple alarms warbled in imperfect harmony and far too many lights flashed persistently on the status boards. Irritated at her ship’s newfound desire to self-destruct, Juliet jerked her control cord to a new setting and hissed quietly in frustration. It was going to be close. Groaning in arrhythmic stutters, the chamber around Juliet’s pilot pod began to heat up. This was not entirely unexpected, but a bit too soon for comfort. Juliet glanced at the altitude indicator again and bit her lip. She needlessly tightened the strap on her rebreather and flipped the final switch. In one last protest, the structure surrounding her began to crumble into nothingness. Outside lay blackness and flame. Juliet leaned her head back and sighed. An explosion of soundless beauty. And then, the lights came on.
Closing her eyes, Juliet asked in barely concealed anger, “So how’d I do?”
“You died,” came the disembodied voice in her earbuds. “Again.”
“Really?” scoffed Juliet. “Well then, let’s run it one last time.” Her eyes flashed purple fire. “Again.”
Raise a Glass
Hello my friends, and happy Tuesday! I am in work early today, trying to get some things done before the office fills up. So right now it is quite quiet here and I thought I’d at least take the chance to write a few words here…
A tattered flag waves in the salt fragrant wind, all its faded colours on display,
And I sigh and ask myself if it is enough to merely stand strong and silent
Or shall I pour myself another cup of coffee and begin to have my say?
I think both options are fairly equal, although words serve just to draw out the pain
And at the end of all things, I confess my heart is burdened and oh so weary
Still I trust God and look to that far country as I stand amidst the pouring rain.
So Neatly Written
Hello, dear friends, and happy Friday! I sit at my desk at work, minutes before the clock ticks over to working time, but I couldn’t resist just saying hello. I’m drinking my peppermint mocha and pondering deep thoughts, like say…what shall I do this weekend? Actually, I’m a bit stunned – I’m going to be in Houston all weekend, a shocking development! Been traveling so much lately, it shall really be quite nice to be at home and get some proper rest. But for now, one more day of work, so no rest for me(yet!). Have a most blessed and wondrous day, my friends.
Fingers drumming on the tabletop,
coffee mugs littering the counter,
clamorous chatting fills the kitchen,
Something comforting, this home sweet home.
Closer Creeps the Night
Beth sighed as she sat in weary anticipation on the front stoop. Hearing a car approaching, she looked up warily, only to see a little black ’88 Volvo approaching. Not her ride. Actually, she had no idea who the driver was, and she knew most people in the neighborhood(naturally, as she’d lived in that same neighborhood for most of her 19 years). After the Volvo drove past, she put her head down again and watched the late autumn leaves tumble down the sidewalk in front of her. The leaves seemed to be dancing with gleeful abandon as they darted by, rejoicing in the winter-tinged air. Beth shivered. She didn’t share the sentiment. Pulling her orange coat closer around herself, she sighed once again. Where was Rich at? He had promised to pick her up at the crack of dawn, but as the early morning light spilled over the sleepy neighborhood sprawled out in front of her, Beth started to worry. She tended to do that a lot, particularly when things didn’t go according to plan. And in her life, things had a tendency to not go according to plan. Unfortunately. Beth rubbed her arms again. She was cold and irritated and still not quite awake. A squeal of tires skidding around the nearest corner shook Beth out of her brown study. In a flash, she hopped to her feet, grabbed her small knapsack and started walking towards the street. Rich’s lime green monstrosity jumped up next to her and she tugged on the door handle violently. Time to go save the world.
Penstroke
A morning where a
darkness reigns throughout the land
and yet there is a wind that blows,
a return of sweetness and decency
mayhaps.
A morning where a
bowl of oatmeal upon worn table sits
and brown sugar swirls in dreamy paths,
a return to first love and hopes fairest
maybe.
A morning where a
moonlit herald sings in quiet wonder
and I hear a call to that far country,
a return to truest tales of yore
perhaps.
First Blush
A mount untraveled,
a tree not blooming,
a flag yet unfurled,
and the sweet colour
of the pale of dawn.
I look upon a crescent moon
and I sigh
in unbridled wonder
that there could be such
beauty.
And behold
tulips blossoming in purest white,
stars singing sweet and strong in dazzling night,
fields of wheat rippling in warm sunlight,
that music bliss and those blue eyes bright
oh behold!
Beauty
that there could be such
in unbridled joy now
and I sigh –
I look upon a waxing moon.
The path is winding through the wild moors,
The trees stand tall and kiss their brethren,
And upon the terrace of brick and stone,
look and behold the aching sweetness –
oh the tale of dawn.
Unwilling
Dirty feet and
dirty floors,
See how all the
filthy money pours
across counter-tops and
tables stained,
not a cent is clean
or rightly gained.
Who dares overturn
our ways,
crack the whip
and halt our days?
Who dares let his eyes
grow sharp in rage
Who dares shout aloud
and then say,
This was to be a house for prayer,
but upon this holy ground
your dirty feet quick into wickedness
have trod;
This was to be a house of love,
but upon the poor and weak
your dirty feet quick and merciless
have trod;
This was to be a house for peace
but now comes near a sword and flames,
oh how I weep,
return, return,
come nigh to God.
