an old poem

Written a few years ago now, this was my answer to the question: Why do you write? [I may write a new ..."poem answer", sometime]

why I write to you

I’m trying to write to you
Because the silence is killing me
I’m trying to write to you
Because when I look at you …
You look back at me (in the face, in the eye)
Because when you look at me…
You make me think you care
think you care whether I live, or die
you look hurt when you look at me
and realize that I want to die
you look like you will listen to whatever I say
…and care about me anyway.
You look like you want to protect me
You look like you believe that I matter
You look at me & don’t run away
You look at me & you seem to cry when I bleed
When I hurt, you have tears
When I’m lonely & you see me, you come near
Sometimes you are what I fear
I know you want to help me
When I talk, you hear me
When I’m not well, you watch over me
When I hurt, your presence heals me
When I wish I could feel God hug me
He sends you

This is my answer
This is the why
This is…
Why I write to you
You are… the end of my silence
You are… the ear,
That hears
I am finding my voice
Because you bother to hear it

...I don't know if someone pointedly asked me why I write to them, but the thought popped into my head at some point. And that came out.

hope you enjoy...

Poems based on the word mask [& the challenge of “pretending to be something else”]

Masks

Collect them all

Tiny little

Fake lives

We hide behind

So no one

Really knows

Who we are

Are they safe?

Of course they are

…but

That

May very well be

What’s wrong with them

Masks

Challenge no one

They don’t offend

[& it wouldn’t matter

If they did]

Because

If you don’t like

This one

We can

Swap it out

For a more appealing one

But masks

Are

Dead

It’s pretty hard

To keep a lifeless thing

On something

Organic

Sooner

Or later

The real person

Shows up

Anyway

The longer

It takes

The scarier

The day

When the mask

Falls

Off

Masks [what you meant…maybe,

kinda, sorta]

I love it

That I am

What you

Grab

And take with you

When you go off

To spend time with Him

You smile

[& laugh @ yourself]

He does, too

I get to be

The “paint brush” you use

To have

“Conversations in art”

With

The Artist

You pick me up

And look toward the sky

Pushing my buttons

To capture a small fraction

Of what you see

Thanking Him

For His ability

To make

What you are

Looking at

I’m not new

[& neither are you]

We fit

[we’re both more than a bit worn]

We’re both “scratched”

A bit “dented”

Here ‘n there

But He doesn’t mind

And we belong to each other

When you grab me in your hand

I feel your excitement

….& I hear you singing in your head

Laughing & giddy

Like a little boy

Wondering

Where

He’ll lead us today

Wondering what

He’ll point out this time?

So glad I can be a connection

A tether from you to Him

musings @ breaktime

love the clouds today.
the folding, swirling, puffy, abstract art of God. Marching slowly across the sky. Right now intermittently "flicking" raindrops on my windshield. Shades of blue - gray, sharp whites with shadows. Ribbons of rainbows playing hide 'n seek among other dark & light shapes.....

turning titles into poems

I'm having a bit of trouble with my computer lately. However I thought I'd post a few newer poems. These are based on L.L. 's latest post title.

A Golden Chain

[first angle]

A golden chain
Poetry seems to me
A secret weapon
To set me free
A chance to say
Things that sometimes
Can’t be said
A chance to
Get
Some black thing
Out of my head
To put it down
Lay it down
Fold the book
& walk away
A chance to
Get it
Out of the way
So I can better live
This day.

A golden chain

[second angle]

A golden chain
To lock me
Away
To keep me
From this here day
Private thoughts
That shouldn’t be
Robbing me
Of any good
That could be
Why do I
Allow these thoughts
To chain me?
When I should
Give them
The boot…

well... it's my birthday too, yeah

...today is my birthday....
will you do something for me today? -consider it a gift to me that you do this.
Even though you may feel silly, or awkward doing it, please do it for me.
Ready? ...here it is:

today I want you to go look at yourself in the mirror
[preferably a full length one.... really look at yourself -for like 3 minutes]
oh... & this part is for the girls mostly,
don't just look at what's "too big or too small"
don't listen to the voices
that say your nothing at all
& realize.....
you are priceless.
you are a gift. you are a work of art, masterfully carved by The Artist.

love,
B

to continue reflecting on gifts, among other things...

My gift posts & poems haven't "come out" the way I first envisioned them to. But I will continue, on this with this post....[picking up from yesterday:]

...anyway, I know it's tough to see yourself as a gift sometimes. We are our own greatest enemies. As a video, created by a self-injurer, so powerfully put it: "Where do you go, to escape from yourself?"
While I cannot escape from myself, I'm learning [painfully slowly] that it isn't really so important what I'm running from.... as it is who I'm running to. I'm not perfect [I know someone who is...but I'm not Him]. I don't have all the answers [I'm not even sure I have all the right questions].... but I know who does have all the answers. And sometimes I lie on the floor & pound my fists into the dirt & beg & cry for the answers.....& sometimes.... I'm afraid He might actually give them to me [afraid that getting the answer won't make me feel any better...or fix anything]. The answer I really need, the stuff I really need to know & cling to is:
I'm loved.
I'm loved by THE somebody.
[& He's not the only one...]
I've written this, this way, partly because I suspect I'm not the only one who needs to read it just that way. In the First person, singular.
I WAS going to go to a concert tomorrow. [tomorrow being my birthday]
I'm not going. I'm VERY mad that I'm not going [at least, as of this writing I'm not.. I'm very "wishy washy" about it at this point]....but not for the reason you'd expect.
I'm mad at ME. I waited till this last week to even ask anybody if they wanted to go.
I just "assumed" [& we all know what happens when you assume don't we?] that
"no one would want to go with me to this."
I emailed some friends about going.... not one of them said:
#1 "No, I'm not interested. Why would you ask me?"
#2 "I really HATE Jazz, Brian -sorry."
#3 "I'm sorry, I just don't like him"
Nope. Not one person said any of those things.... but I planned this as if they had. How cruel.
As a matter of fact. My answers were: "Sorry, I'd love to, but I'm really crazy busy right now"
"I think we'll pass this time, but thanks for asking us."
"I'd love to go to see him with you, maybe next time I can go along."

Why do I do this? I essentially gagged them & made up my own answer. ...which makes me wonder.... do I do this to God, too??

[tomorrow I'll try make my last post on this. It's just a little favor...]

The Anatomy of a Gift

The Anatomy of a Gift [or how I see humans, the appreciation of my friends]
As I have said [probably too many times now] Humans are The Sculptures of God.
Your clothes, glasses, jewelry, hair color [if you die it, anyway], tattoos, etc. are the wrapping paper. Your body is the box... but your soul is the gift. It is the essence of you. I look at my friends, my family, my wife... as someone who goes to a gallery looks at photos, paintings, & sculptures. I'm thankful for my friends. [& my family. I've known a lot of people who's families suck. I am blessed, believe me. My life would have been so much worse...& probably a whole lot shorter, if it were not for family.]
I'm thankful for all of my gifts. You may not believe it... but you are a gift.
[& now, "gift poems" 2 of 3]

A poem to my gifts….

You have no clue
Do you?
How very significant
You are.
How you are
The very physical
Tangible
Hug of Yahweh
Just by walking by
Saying “hi”
Your message
Your email
Never liked
Being followed
Till
A couple of you
“twittered”
That you were
And
It just meant
I’m not alone
What happens
To me matters
Thanks,
Seems
Like such a small word
For it
…
I’m so glad
That God made
Each of you
Not only that
But He is actually willing
To share you all with me
You are art
You rival
The sky
The grand canyon
In all it’s spender
Is not as wonderful
As each of you.
One day
I hope
He pulls back the veil
And lets you
See you
As I do
Only then
Will
You understand
Why
I love you
Thanks for
Loving me, too…

So…
Once again
It’s my birthday
…but
I’m not waiting
To see what I “get”
I have
A priceless gift
You…
[all I want is you]

The best friends…

When you’ve come unglued,
You’re insides have all been spewed
You’ve exploded,
& your heart lies in a million pieces
They walk in…
They are the only ones
who dare….
They dare to care
“here’s a piece”, one will say
“I found one, too”, not far away
They gather all the pieces
of your once whole soul
Then they kneel before Him
& this is what they’ll say
“Daddy,
… he’s broken
… please…. fix him”

By brian n.
[written several years ago]

you are a gift,
you matter,
don't forget...