dpbowman

The posings of a poet.

Archive for the category “Writing”

All the Feels

When it feels like
You’ve lost
It’s because you’ve
Likely won
When you feel there’s
Only darkness
It’s because you’ve
Known the sun
If it feels like you’ve
Wandered from the way
It’s because sometimes
A heart will stray
If you feel truth is
Too often hidden
It’s because you’ve seen
It flow unbidden
If it feels like time
Won’t let Love win
It’s because you’ve been
Scarred but loved again
If it feels these feelings
Are too much
It’s because they are
As such
If it feels that feelings
Are not enough
It’s because you’re made
Of stronger stuff
If feelings feel often
Less than real
It’s because you are free
To begin to heal

If God is the Sun

If God is the sun, I don’t want to be the moon. It implies I alone can receive and reflect His grace and love.
   I want to be a blade of grass. To absorb His loving kindness and grow with those like me that surround me. I want to share the joy with others of stretching out to greet Him. I want to understand the fear of being cut down and the comfort of knowing those around me feel it too. I want to stain the lives of others with the very soul of me. I want what makes me grow to be evident and mysterious. I want to put down roots that get tangled in the lives of others and hang on tight together when the storms come.
    I need God to be my Sun and my gardener. I need him to feed me and tend me too. I can’t cultivate seeds for future growth in myself, only He can do that. I can’t pull the weeds out of my life or those of other’s lives. I can see them. I can see how they steal what God intends for us, but only He can dig them out for good and for my good. I want to cover this planet with evidence of growth through God’s light and love and mercy.
  If God is the sun, I want to be grass.

In Hale

Some moments I seem to see
Some malice stalking me
I my sword unsheathe

I lash out at life
And perceived wrong seems so rife
I begin to seethe

I whine and then I shout
I let it all hang out
Like a baby begun to teethe

Until I finally recall
Through the fire of it all
As smoke begins to wreathe

I am the master of my heart
I will tell it to finish and to start
And take a moment just to breathe

RE: Define

Courage – Beauty standing in shadow of death, nodding grimly, and taking a bullet

Truth – Beauty calmly waiting for all to see there is one logic and reality, simplicity is reality

Honor – Beauty announcing pure intention

Faith – Beauty seeking it’s origin

Hope – Beauty believing tomorrow is always possible

Peace – Beauty injecting love into chaos

Kindness – Beauty settling silently in responses

Sincerity – Beauty seeing and saying what always is

Gentleness – Beauty touching another in word or deed

Goodness – Beauty explaining what ought be

Self-control – Beauty holding the reigns of emotion

Love – Beauty translating the language of the soul

 

I Prep Positions

Lower Hellhole Dam, concrete, rebuilt 1966

I from passing…

I on words fire set
I over memory forget
I under am standing reason
I in caught up am treason
I through ever push on straight
I by writing my guess fate
I against fighting am staleness
I amid become strong frailness
I between do stories tell
I from passing attempt heaven from hell
I near point I the make would
I opposite of not hope it is the good
I off dream write to and am
I except flooding would be for the dam

Word Math #2

evolution of the j-rune.

JOY rune = JO(rune)Y/(rune) ~[urne] {JOurneY} = Journey

The mystery of JOY

In runic letters glow

As you go enjoy

And purpose you will know

Punk Chew A Shun

We.
All.
Know!
How?
Sentences.
Grow!
The
marks!
Just
make(!)
us
feel.
But
ma,ke
it
so,
unreal!
Free!
The words!
Will(?)
fall.
,AND
add(+),
Sense!
without.
slowing…
Which?
Is bad!
Let.
The words!
Themselves:
Ignite!
Only.
Then…
Do you?
Truly!
write.

An Uncliche: Halloween

Putting on a play

Putting on a play

 

It was a bright and clear night
And all seemed to be aright
The goblins decided that on this Eve
T’would be better give, than receive
So they visited the Altruistic Witch
(Gingerbread Habitats were her niche
She built them you see, as act of good
For those whose children were lost in the wood)
“What kind and public plan should we
Enact on our neighbor, the silent banshee?”
“I believe she ever enjoys a good play
Perhaps you could write one for her today.”
So the goblins ran out to begin their scenes
They consulted a ghost on being serene
“We’d like this piece the banshee to excite,
She’s ever so quiet every night!”
The ghost just murmured, “Well, then I’d
Write a scene where no one died.
What is they say without fail
At the end of every fairy tale?”
A zombie spoke up, with sibilant laughter
“They all lived happily ever after!”
“That’s the ticket!”, The ghost agreed
After all the zombie was PhD’ed!
The goblins finished their skit and went to perform
In a well-lit attic, which was their norm
The banshee silently entered in
A vampire sipped milk till it did begin
The goblins gave their all in spotlight shine
Then thanked their director Frankenstein
The Banshee quietly made applause
Then announced that she was given cause
To invite all the monsters every fall
To join her in a monster’s ball
They arrived and wanted to do good
But sadly were misunderstood
All arrived dressed in their best
But humans got scared, you know the rest

De Colores

I pray for you a red letter day
And that you be not green with envy along the way
I taupe that you are ever in the pink
Or in the black if you consider you’re ink
Know this that there is no area grey
When in front of you the red carpet lay
Once in a blue moon we get
The green light from life and we are set
To see things through rose-colored glasses
And paint the town red with all the masses
Of joy that seems to come from out of the blue
Because the grass is green on this side for you
I could go on til I’m blue in the face
But I wanted love to show it’s colors in this space
So that your day is never duller
Or your mood ever off color

Remix #1: If Ulysses met Hamlet

It little profits that an idle king

Lose the name of action

I cannot rest from travel; I will drink life to the lees

And enterprises of great pitch and moment

I am become a name

No traveler returns

I am part of all that I have met

The undiscover’d country

The untraveled world whose margin fades

The dread of something after death

To rust unburnished, not to shine in use

That patient merit of th’unworthy takes

As though to breathe were life

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time

To follow knowledge like a sinking star beyond the utmost bond of human thought

That makes calamity of so long life

This labor, by slow prudence to make mild a rugged people

Must give us pause

Souls that have toiled and wrought, and thought with me

What dreams may come

Some work of noble note, may yet be done

Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished

Come, my friends, ’tis not too late to seek a newer world

To say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to

Though much is taken, much abides

Take up arms against a sea of troubles

And though we are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven

Tis nobler in the mind to suffer

That which we are, we are

To be or not to be

Strong in will to survive, to seek, to find, and not to yield

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