a room in time

a "round two" if you will...

a room in time

get up early
take a drive to Rutter's
pick up the one newspaper a year
that sells out by lunchtime
2 copies please
one to leave @ home
one to take along
get back home
and settle in
eat, read The Book,
pray, stretch out,
sign the card for my blond
if I haven't done better at getting ahead
turn on Macy's annual parade
maybe write,
maybe do dishes
take down the decorations for
today's holiday
get out those Christmas records
-er, I mean "discs"
Start putting up the decorations
as a large vocal group ironically sings
"we need a little Christmas now"
think of 2 different friends
ministering to those who don't have
family
try
to get there by one.
cause that's when they'll gather 'round the table
dig into turkey, gravy, sweet potatoes, filling,
and several veggies
[cause we're all too picky to like the same ones]
afterwords
the "big" gals will sit with the black Fri. adds
planning their strategy
the "little" girls playing at our feet
we guys may saunter off to the TV
for a football game
-but not soccer-
or out the door for a quiet walk
knowing that the season for craziness
is close at hand
drive the interstate
back to our little home
my blond & me
exchange cards
loving glances
and speak of future plans
while making final decisions on Thanksgiving with
our other parents,
and looking forward to it
while this is not a "room" in a building
this is a room in time
named
Thanksgiving Day

by B.E. Noll

poem place

L.L. Barkat wonderfully gives poem ideas that can be a fun launching place for a poem.
As I haven't been reading the blogs linked here a whole lot lately, I'm a little behind on this. Here goes anyway. Oh, & to keep with the thankfulness of this week, I'm thankful for all the blog links to the right of my posts...
[this is very rambling...]

A poem of here

So
I sit here
amid the piles of papers
whishing I had taken better care of things
wishing I was “done” with them
done with projects
wires & speakers
setting on the desk
that is too big for the room
the room
that seems too small for my plans
there seems to be no room in here for me
and I should love to fix this mess
another fine mess I’m in
yet it is here that I also
amid the piles of neglect
write thanks to Yahweh
for many of the reasons
this room is messy
friends that I spend time with
a cold wife
who loves to cuddle with her warm husband
the room is chaos
& I listen to a chaotic piano
from a metal band that isn’t “usual”
which reminds me how
not “usual” I, myself, am
my printer setting inches from where I’m typing
hibernating
a borrowed Bible
a borrowed poem book
borrowed classical music
a jump drive lying,
abandoned on the desk slightly in from of the speakers
Ironic
I’m listening to music
but not on them
on headphones
yet another spaghetti cord
slithering about this chaos
yet I am laughingly calm
which doesn’t even make sense
waiting to buy a newspaper that will be
lathered with sales papers
almost resembling something I don’t even eat
-a taco
the “normal paper” being the shell
and the meaty reason I buy it
spilling out onto my floor soon
Yet I am thankful still
for the truth that
even though things are messy here
barely room amid the mess to move my chair
I am moving forward
the messy piles
remnants of
an “old self”
dying too slowly
yet dying all the same
and getting help from
the me that is being born
in it’s place
all this running through my mind
as I sit in this space

by B.E. Noll

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving!

A living room lead…

Living room sanctuary

I crawl down there

Hands & knees

Scramble onto the couch

Sunglasses on

Even though the sun can’t properly get in

A living room prison?

…not really,

A living room

Sanctuary, perhaps

I stay on the couch

Immobile for a while

Bothered that I cannot do anything

Never thinking that, for some,

This has been true for years

And will be

For the rest of their life

Stuck

Inside

But I’m just stuck till I feel better

Here with You

As I wait out the dizziness

When the room stops spinning

I can start to venture out again

Or at least try to be on my feet again

And, at last I am

Ready to venture out into worlds unknown

I’m so glad that this chapter in my story is long over… That I can go out & hike, or take pictures, or just take a long drive [Sat. morning was wonderful…]

latest challenges....

I'll start with a simple one [as I listen to Miles Davis' The Complete In A Silent Way Sessions set].
The latest challenge from L.L. [well, ok poems wise, anyway]
"if words were..."

A Love of Language
how odd it is
that I love language
so
when
sometimes
I seem so
"self quarantining"
from it's use
walling myself
away
from
those
who would
encourage
those who would
protect me
from my
own
dark words

...but
thank God
for journaling,
for poem challenges,
for friends
to share poems with,
who care
about me
the writer
of such oddities
Thank God
for a chance
to use words
as keys
to unlock
and open
the mystery
of me.

...oh
if words were
chocolate
they'd have to be
dark chocolate
rich
and sweet
some melt
in your mouth
and bring a smile
to your lips
caress the taste buds
making you long for more
of this
delicacy...

if words were
wine
to lift
to your lips
to sniff
the aroma
they purvey
to sip, tenderly
to swish around
in your mind
to ponder the painting
they evoke
to ingest them
hoping, praying they will
help to
challenge
to change
you deep in your soul
to make you different
than you were
before....

if words were
an ocean
[& they sometimes are]
washing over me
with all their power,
all their adventure,
all their daring,
yet lying with them
as they are absorbed
into the skin of my soul
to linger in them
to enjoy
the way
they effortlessly
reintroduce me
to a good friend
the way they connect me
to a community
of souls
encouraging me to use them
as wings
to soar up, out, away
from what
gets in my way
to free me
from the junk
brought to me
by my day

Words help me so much. Journaling, blogging, emailing, even "facebooking" seem to help me "let it out" & let others in. Sometimes simultaneously. I'm "more glad tonight" than usual. Today shouldn't bother me, but it did. My poor neighbor, trying to be nice by waiting for me to park my car, is slighted by my poor reaction to it. I cannot even be helped out of this lousy feeling.... at least not till I quickly "run" into the house, up stairs to my music.... which is why I'm listening to Miles Davis. For some odd reason, this is soothing to my soul tonight. Music & words. Tonight, I'm thankful for both. I'm fine, now. Calmed down from my "spaz" of earlier. Even Cnctema [the martial art I took for years] tells me, woven all through it, to be calm. You hurt yourself & others far less if you stop resisting, & being so stiff. Which leads me to thoughts of God...... is He trying to "move me" & I'm resisting? Is He simply trying to say "hey, chill out"?

As for the posts on dreams from High callings & Co. My dream seems to be more in the hands of others right now. A dream of a permenant "Sacred Space" or Labyrinth. A hybrid of Sacred space...& healing space. A place, a space to try art "on for size". A place to "hang with the Almighty". A place to learn to "live into your skin". This year is many things for me. Being comfortable in & living into my skin is one of them. I didn't die of mortal embarrassment on putting my real name to the Grace found me poem. [featured in INKLINGS] Nor did I have problems with having a picture on the cover. [though, I DO feel like I'm bragging to mention & link to it. But I want to brag about the others who are in there, & deAnn's wonderful way of putting them together. Check out the whole "issue" it's really good!]

On another blog, a very wonderful talk about being naked [though, not the porno idea of it that naturally comes to mind in a culture such as ours]. Naked in a healing sense. In a sharing sense. To recognize the shame we often feel. The difficult way of being real about our struggles. On Stuff Christians Like [which, usually does a nice job with comedy] Jon writes some serious questions. He'd love the stuff I wrote in the Labyrinth on one of my visits. About 3 pages of questions, fears... painfully honest fears & questions. And a "God sized" challenge. [on what to do with them] I have begun [last night, yet again] to try to write about abuse. Largely, for the purpose of sharing a "color poem". My first red poem came out & I thought ....who could read this? To my suprise, the few who've read it like it. I won't say more on it. But if I post twice in a night... that may be why. I also thought, & hope to, write a post on the anatomy of a gift. And what my favorite gifts are. [i would share pictures of these gifts, but I don't have permission]

May His grace
drip from your fingers...

the 3 mysteries of place [part 2], poetry as comedy, ...& signing my work

...in no order. So, the writing poetry as comedy thing wasn't easy. [I'm not sure I did it write]
but... here 'tis:

Poetry as comedy
one
funny thing
about poetry
[@ least mine]
is
the more
raw& honest
it is
the more fear
of sharing but I do it anyway
I am
the more people
resonate
with it
I never thought
that
what I use
to break out
of my
self made
trap
would end up as someone
else's
escape plan [map?]
I also
never realized
that
writing my
private
struggles
would be
so helpful
[even to me]
I never
realized
how poetry can
be comical
-& yet
in the midst
of the
laughter
[or after]
it can
still make me say
"yeah, I feel that!"
still teach
so much

I never realized
that I
could use
poetry
to learn
to talk.

So that's the attempt at comedy. [hopefully I'll do better at this in the future]
Now for the "3 mysteries of place part 2"...

The sacred mystery of landscapes

I don’t
Really know
When,
How,
Or where
My love of landscapes
Began
I do know
That the first rays
Of a new dawn
Began
In a park
A chance
To encounter
The Almighty
Something
That when “birthed”
At my church
I looked back
And realized
I had already been
Going to
The Labyrinth
Years ago…
Now
As I try
To learn
To both:
Be comfortable
In my skin,
And
To live
Into my skin.
I’m learning
But I’m certainly
Not “there” yet
Landscapes
Are a place where
God seems
So much
Closer,
Louder,
Larger,
Than other places.
I feel surrounded
By the
“God who is bigger than air itself”
Surrounded by
An intimate lover
I walk into a park,
Onto a trail…
And it is like entering
The God of the Cosmos
Sometimes I talk
Sometimes He talks
Sometimes we just
Silently listen
To the orchestra of nature.
The symphony of birds.
I take in
The amazing painting…
That I’m standing in.
The living paintings of Yahweh.

by Brian E. Noll

I have to get used to looking at this now. To explain, I have been giving my friend deAnn some poems for some time now. She publishes poems in Inklings, a quarterly publication that is available at the Common Grounds Coffee Bar [@ LWCC]. Yesterday was the deadline for submissions to the next issue. I have been taking photos for about a year now. Contemplative photography, as some call it. Just "borrowing images" [for an explaination go here] of God's painting the Earth. The last photo field trip, I really got cought up in being His kid. Anyway, I was asked to provide photos to be posted on the VC Photo blog, no problem. I [for whatever reason] decided to tell Kevin to use Brian E. Noll. I don't know if he will post them or not, nor do I know when. Don't care. I love Kevin, he's like a brother to me. And I can't wait to see what he writes next [his few posts have been wonderful]. And he's amazing with a camera. deAnn will [I think -don't hold me to it] use a photo I took while at my Uncle's cabin, for the cover of Inklings this next issue. So I told her to use the same name. I don't always communicate very well [especially when I'm nervous]. So between misunderstandings & divine movement in my life, I am [quite timidly, & with much trembling] using this name for my new poems to be published in there as well.

I really need to go for now, but it feels good to be laying this out here..... [pray for a fool, will ya?]

currently listening to Bruce Coburn's "Slice 'o Life" live solo discs online, here.

[Thanks Byron]

a few poems that came from other places

Barkat is still creating these writing challenges [or prompts, as others may call them].
I am also inspired by a commercial over on Vertical Creativity. A Visa commercial is the inspiration for this next one. To see the commercial first, click here. To read her wonderful post on this commercial.

GO

The moment

You here this tiny word

You feel like you should move

By itself it sounds

Like a command

In the military

In an emergency

…but

It can seem

Like an impossible task

When all that is around you

Seems broken

…maybe

Just maybe

In the brokenness

GO…

Means finding the pieces

Maybe

It means taking steps

To heal

What is broken

…the commercial

Is speaking of a form of

Brand new day

Of starting over

…but

What is starting over

Going to look like

For you?

Does it mean

Dusting off a

Long neglected

Instrument?

Is this instrument

Musical?

Or a paintbrush?

Or pencils?

Will you

Share this with someone?

Maybe going out your door

Isn’t your problem

Is it letting others in?

Is it sharing

The deepest part of yourself?

Maybe

GO

Is to the store…

For groceries…

For modeling clay…

A new notebook,

Or sketch pad…

Maybe…

It’s to find your friends

To remind yourself

Your journey

Connects with others

Will He…

Go with you?

Or…

Will you

GO

With Him?

…there are many things money can buy….

But what matters most in this world…. Isn’t found in a store…

And isn’t for sale…

[thus proving, once again, God gives the very best gifts. You are one of them –even if you don’t feel like it.]

So that is the first one... [I, for some reason, hear it read by Morgan Freeman]
Now for a [humm..... how do I say this?]
a different angle on a previous poem. [or... I found my soul pt 2, or I found my soul, revisited]

I found my soul
...in a cd
...in the loving eyes
of friends
...in the electronic words
hurled through
cyberspace
...different hands
...different minds
same...
gorgeous,
loving
God
[artist supreme]

So much is being "spoken into my life" lately. I'm at once excited, & a bit freightened, by it. Almost as if "God is my stalker". [now there's an image you don't think of everyday]
Seriously, it's not enough that from conversations, to The Labyrinth, to my lent devotional, to things in growth group, to music, to TV, to movies... but that all this can be speaking to me "harmoniously" on a theme is quite wild. [not to mention nail biting]
I may try to be brave, & post a few variations on the idea of "word painting". From my writings inside the Labyrinth. [it's a bit more of me than I'm used to publishing, but who knows?]
May you have a wonderful day... [or night's sleep]

Take time for quiet moments, for God whispers,

And the world is loud. –Anonymous

B

reflections on finding my soul

Lots going on this week. Bad week for my allergies. Got to celebrate one of my favorite gifts this week [my Dad's b-day was Mon. Good food, great conversation. once again I find myself saying: "it may be your b-day, but I got the gift. I got you." People are the best gifts. -I'll post the poem born from this in April] Got home from an evening with Dad, & found out that my friend & neighbor, Jared [& his wife Becky] had a boy. Then bad news, in 2's. Tues. a co-worker mentioned the anniversary of his wife's death. Wed. I found out that 2 friends I'd lost touch with [who are now married to each other] lost their baby boy. [...& an old wound bleeds anew...] I, myself, am fine. I am [as I commented on L.L.'s blog] unfolding myself. Finding my soul. [or, perhaps better said, my soul re-awakens] Things seem different, lately. As though God has started over, yet without "throwing the other me out". I write, pretty much every day now. Some is very poetic, almost to the point where it's an "out of body experience". I almost say "I'd like to meet the person who wrote that". My allergies have me on pills [those who know me well, know how I despise pills]. My skin isn't too bad, right now. [besides hives when I weed out front. I get this itchy, weird, "can't stand to be in my skin" feeling at times.]
I again, swing back to the fact that in spite of the "downer" stuff that is in my life. I am in a mending, awakening, artistic phase. I am also stuck on the new U2 disc. [wrote a poem answer to Magnificent, among about 5 or 6 other poems while listening to it.]

I found my soul...
It seems like I have been looking for you
forever
I'm sorry you got lost
I'm sorry
that the last time I saw you
you were being violated
torn up
beat down
but I'm glad I found you...
[I'm glad you are still here]

I found my soul
damaged
whimpering in a corner
trying
not to make
a sound
so worn out
like a three legged dog
a weird
shriveled thing
that I thought
no one wanted...

I found my soul
& I found people
who would pray for it
people who would nurse it
back to health
I keep losing my soul
I found it in a youth ministry
They helped to make it whole
I "refound" it
in an odd place
a church
in an old school building
a living church
a beautiful body
of Christ
that has
[and seems to continue
in new & ever deepening ways]
written love
all over my soul

[...I'm not sure this is finished, but it is for tonight. I will get back on track soon...]

forgive me for my intermitten poem bursts...

L.L. Barkat has been doing a bit of a "poem challenge". I like giving these a stab. As most of my poems simply flow out of me. Without any guidelines. My guidelines usually come after the poem is finished. This one seems to have no light or hope in it. This one shares too much of a darker part of my story. These are 2 "filters" that I decide no, I don't think this one should be shared. L.L. 's latest is for us to use "Once upon a time" [or other fairytale language] or even just the word "Once".
Well "Once [pt 2]", I do not think I'll share. However.... how about a really old one [that deAnn almost published in Inklings [called Only Once] & one I wrote on break today [Them].
Only once was born out of a book [this book, Inside a cutter's mind, understanding & helping those who self-injure by Jerusha Clark & Dr. Earl Henslin]


What made me buy this book, was a story near the end of it, lifted from the site sloppynoodle.com. An anonimous story, called: Only Once. I lifted the title only. And I borrowed a line from a video I watched by a self-injurer "protect me from what I want". [This was written over a year ago]

Only Once

I can’t seem to let this go
It separates me from everyone I know
I don’t want to be alone
But they can’t reach me,
Not even one
How did I get here?
How do I leave?
Can anyone help me?
How long will I hold onto
That which wants my death?
How long
till I see the sun again?
Will You help me give up,
What is killing me?
Is it too late to reach back
For the ones who seem to want
what I despise?
Will I see me as they do?
Why do they want me?
When I don’t?
They remind me of You
Loving what seems unlovable
Help me give them what they want
What You want
Protect me from what I want
Save me from the whispers in my head
I know You can
I know You want to
Help me let You
Help me to reach for them
The few that seem to walk near
but cannot touch
cause when I can stand their touch
when I can feel them near
I can feel You
It is You that I see
In the looking glass of their eyes
Is Your reflection
They are beautiful
Thank You for making them
Thank You for ….
Having them want me
To reflect Your feelings about me

As I wrote this one [on break today] I was thinking about my friends. And how much I need them. Thinking about how important the facts stated here are to me. And to people who have been through similar things. This fits L.L.'s poem guidelines...

Them
once
upon a time
not long ago
I told them
[well, some of them]
I thought
I'd die
but
I didn't
thought
they'd
run away
[dump me like a bad habit]
they didn't
the ones
who know
are fine
the ones
who know
that they don't know
are fine
[...they're fine
'cause they know some do know]
is this
my "happily ever after"?
-no
...but I can
see it from here
[...@ least some days]

Take care, be safe, know you are loved