Tag: poem

Fluffy

James HoganLeave a comment

And so I return to this posting apparatus, though not as quickly as I thought when I wrote last post. It is now Thanksgiving Eve and I sit with my mug of coffee here, about to do some more reading…but thought I should continue my chronicle first, while it is still fresh in my mind! I must say as I type this, I am much enjoying the Tampa home keyboard…it is very mechanically responsive and fun to type on. Much more bouncy than my laptop keyboard, I approve. This may or may not contribute to my being even more verbose than usual…apologies in advance.

Anyways! I think I ended my last post talking about game night with Laura and Caisson and friends and getting to bed far too late. Thankfully the next morning we were able to sleep in a little…had some coffee together, then we went out to get breakfast(/brunch?) at one of their favorite breakfast spots – a diner that had definitely not been around when I was in Gainesville! Actually…this was a running theme throughout my time in Gainesville…so much had changed since my residency there, even though it’s been less than nine years. Whole new roads had appeared and new shopping centers and other things have replaced woods and fields(my favorite open field at corner of University and 13th is now a shining uber-modern apartment complex – the horror!). Progress(in shape of concrete and steel) marches on unimpeded by more poetic concerns…

Pardon that interlude – but onward! We had a lovely time eating breakfast(I had a delicious breakfast pie with eggs and cheeses and meats and it was wonderful alongside the good strong coffee) and of course talking. We had so much good talking times throughout this trip that I shall soon neglect to mention them, but just know they happened because Laura and Caisson are truly both so dear. Following breakfast, I’m trying to remember what we did next…if I recall correctly, it was a trip to campus! We spent a few hours wandering the gameday-crowded campus, seeing old spots(the Bunker at Graham! the new-(and improved??) Union! the Florida bookstore – I think we spent the most time there perusing random books!) and eventually ending up at Pascal’s Coffeehouse. Oh Pascal’s – truly the holder of so many memories. I even have an old adolescent lit story I wrote back in ’09 where this coffeehouse was featured prominently. And I am actually wearing one of their shirts as I write this now, randomly! Anyways – it was great fun being there again, walking past the table where Laura remembered first getting a text from Caisson, peeking into the room where so many good Creekside College Ministry Wednesday night meetings were held…and eventually, we got some drinks(a hybrid London-fog/peppermint mocha for me!) and ended up talking there for a while, the three of us. Expounding on the power of poetry and the characteristics it should contain. Caisson has a good “Three Laws of Poetry” summary that I really need to heed when I’m writing. I have discovered that I’m not really that good in presenting a clear and easily understandable theme to my audience in my works. I may know what’s there, but the readers most definitely do not always understand what I’m getting at! But I shall not attempt to summarize our whole conversation here.

Eventually, it was time to part ways…for I had told Laura and Caisson that I had wanted to spend a few hours by myself. These hours that I spent wandering campus…I don’t know if I can fully and properly put them to page here as it is something maybe best left to my heart and soul alone. But I had long desired to undertake what I have now called a pilgrimage back to the lands of my youth. And so I did walk through campus, stopping at the sites of so many hallowed memories. At each spot I was able to sit and reflect and think and meditate and pray on what God has done in me and for me and through me these past years. And as I brought back many memories…some bitter and some sweet…I could not help but thank my Father God for holding me fast throughout every dark night and every raging storm. I was able to write various things in my little notebook throughout this pilgrimage and while I shan’t reproduce them all here(partly because they’re very crude and quickly written and not at all amenable to proper editing and partly because I want the majority to remain truly personal), I will put down one…

Lake Alice
gleams prettily
in glow
of setting sun –
its quiet beauty
thrills my soul.
A heron rests
atop the stillness.
I shiver
at the
crickets’ song.

That is the least emotional(and/or personal) so I think it’s ok for sharing here!

Now eventually I realized that even over two hours of walking around by myself was not sufficient for my purposes…but I knew I must return to Laura and Caisson’s place for dinner! Laura came and picked me up and after a quick detour to Target(where asparagus and…er…the long desired new Taylor album reputation were acquired), we returned to the apartment. Caisson was in the middle of crafting a delicious Guinness-beef stew..full of beef and carrots and onions and parsnips and other savoury ingredients. This was poured over mashed potatoes and it was definitely a proper and hearty dinner! After we enjoyed that, we eventually decided a quiet movie night was in order. It may have taken us a while to decide on a movie, but eventually we did settle on an old classic I’d never seen before…10 Things I Hate About You and it was much enjoyed – full of classic Shakespeare references and fun 90s nostalgia! I do so love fun high school movies from my era and this is a well-deserved classic…Heather Ledger and Julia Stiles..simply perfect.

Now…this entry is far too long and I’ve decided to end it for the now. Going to go off with my coffee and have more reading time. Also listening to some classic hymns(And Can It Be currently playing) and I just can’t focus on writing anymore. Peace and love.

the Ninth

James HoganLeave a comment

How the road tarries and dips and spins
now out of sync with the earth again
yet still the moon rising o’er the land
signals, beckons with uplifted hand.

May this lonely wanderer rest a spell?
Or discover some forgotten dell?
There is a candle that flickers anew –
And for that hope oh I hope ’tis true.

The light upon the path is fearful bright
And does so illumine this fearful night –
Though not as glorious as coming day,
Unto my feet this lamp grants its ray.

For slowly, surely
the tears may flow and
fall upon the path
for that hollow of the dark
for that creeping horror stark.

Yet the rising morning star is promised
and it shall surely not delay.

Praises to that Bright Morning Star!
Praises to the Coming Promised One!
Praises to the Lord of lords!
Praises to the King of kings!
Praises to the Son of Man!
Praises to the Christ of God!
Praises(praises!) to His Name!
Praises to the One who was!
Praises to the One who is!
Praises to the One who is to come!
Praises to the One who is First!
Praises to the One who is Last!
Praises to the One who lives forevermore!
Praises(praises!) to His Name!

See now light descending from the stars,
As through kitten kisses from the rain.
Thunders softly the gloried storm clouds.
Whispers furiously the storied dawn.

Interlude the Second

James HoganLeave a comment

Wrote a quick poem yesterday…when I say quick, that is not an understatement. I think I wrote it in approximately 45 seconds. Of course, that also means the quality is a bit…compromised. Nonetheless, I share it below as a glimpse of my random soul.

Pride cometh before a fall,
but sometimes the fall precedes
the threatened pride,
and this fall may be
a stumble, large or small,
and may stinging
bring such tears of pain,
but nevertheless it is
a mercy true,
that we might remember
we are not
the fairest of them all.

Bedewed

James HoganLeave a comment

quickly now, look and see –
fast-fallen dusk lifts his head
and smiles tartly

but though the long-feared night approaches
there is yet hope of dawn
there is yet that hazily remembered
conceptual light.

Come rosy-fingered aurora!
Come and succor our gloom-filled minds
Come we beg thee,
Come and aid our flight from night’s embrace
and all shalt yet be saved.

Slowly now I do see –
smoldering night lingers yet
the sky breathes deep.

Landscapes, far Away

James HoganLeave a comment

The grey poles swooped past our car,
a bit in time with my beating heart,
brushed up next to her but we
were not together
not yet apart.

And as the train slowed to a halt,
I glanced at her,
she glanced at me,
and not a word was shared.

She apparently had nothing she cared to say to me
but that’s alright,
because I had nothing I cared to say to her.

Stepping onto the platform,
sticky with residue of shattered dreams,
I glanced once more at her
tear-stained face and
we walked together
we walked alone.

what Else is There to Follow, what Else is There to Love?

James HoganLeave a comment

A bit of honey upon the bread makes it oh so tasty and sweet
but oft times we forget the honey and the bread
and just grab a mouthful of cornmeal
instead.

And I can’t express what is in my heart, but then
when have I ever had that express desire
fulfilled?

And oh I’m waiting
as the autumn leaves float down around my head
and oh I’m waiting
for something more than promises of breathless hope to here remain
for something more than promises of fragile tea mugs in their alcoves
for something more than promises of lighted candles upon the windowsill
and oh I’m waiting
oh oh I’m waiting
for leaves of summer to crown my brow
someday soon
someday
and then shall I weep anew for fulfillment sweet
and so I’m waiting
for that crimson sunset
and in-drawn breath
before the silence
before the storm,
before the long
lost called home.

Meanwhile listen
for that true music,
echoing of ages past
echoing of age to come
echoing achingly
painfully
wonderingly
wonderfully
staggeringly
beautiful
and so
listen closely, for it still sings
faintly yes,
but it still sings.

And better now than scattered crumbs of mercury and steel,
the true bread rests upon the plate, invitingly warm and hearty,
even a little bit of honey drizzled sweet,
that worn old book sings to me anew,
not faintly now.
Sometimes yes,
but not the now.

Repose

James HoganLeave a comment

A crowning of clouds hugs the sky,
deep and lusciously does it lie,
a bit like a blanket atop the bed,
the type that makes you want to snuggle deeper,
never wanting to get out and up and start your day.

And as the eastern horizon slowly catches fiery light,
it seems to be an assumed fact that this day will
roll on like all the rest.
This may be assumed, I suppose – as most days do indeed roll on.
But what does this say of us that we have lost our sense of wonder
of the dawn?

And so now, see now,
we most diligently employ these fancy wrappers and this coiffed hair and these most proper accouterments
to carry ourselves as high and lofty persons,
but so now, see now,
though we style ourselves as a grand affair,
fragile and weak are we in and of ourselves for true,
and though we do a good job to hide that fact, our infirmities cripple us in a deeper sense
than merely what our eyes can see now.

Still I must acknowledge that our eyes lift to heaven and catch the dawning light
a bit like our flesh and bones and souls alike are crafted –
to the tune of that greater music
to the harmony of that more beautiful truth
to the song of that more truthful beauty.
and sweetly does that herald cry
of crowning glory from the sky.

of Early Mornings and Other Things

James HoganLeave a comment

The music pops and warbles,
crooning smooth tunes
over the corporate approved radio
and the woman near me –
you’d expect her to have a bob perhaps, but no –
her hair is a riot
of darker brown with lighter pink
and a few beaming golden tresses ties it all together
and as the espresso steams and the lights dim and
fragrance of peppermint fills the air,
her smile dazzles more brilliant still.
Let’s dance the charleston now and forget
what lies behind
what lies ahead is far better.
Let’s dance my love,
let’s dance.

A Cup of Water

James HoganLeave a comment

May I have some water?
Cracked lips and parched throat
and fevered, restless soul
toiling and spinning
and groaning e’er more –
what is this shadow I see?
The grass is brown and dry
and the flowers wilt
all for lack of water.

An autumn leaf
slowly spinning to the earth
in what seems
to be a very long moment,
but it is only a moment.

Boots crunching on the snow
and first flush of winter’s blast
reminds one of two conflicting points –
the terrible power of nature’s wrath and
the terrible beauty of the same.
All the flags and all the battleships of all the petty kingdoms of the world
are revealed for how small they truly are.

And in that long night,
as a tear gently traces the cheek,
there is a cry that rises.
Oh to lay this burden down
Oh to let this yoke be broken
Oh to leave this shadowed land
Oh to love forever.

And in that night,
there is remembrance brought and
there is peace and comfort wrought.
For surely rest is at hand.
Forever.
But not yet.
The scent of lilies on the wind
and through the doorway, open now –
I see a rising sun
and there is
a hint of jasmine.
Someday
glory comes.