A rainy day!

A rainy day has inspired me to write today. It was so dreary most of the day and then on my way home I watched the sun set and it was gorgeous! Funny that at the close of a grey and soggy day I should witness something so beautiful and full of color and light. So I came home and wrote. It isn't exactly what I was going for, once again, but I am posting it anyway. I am just no good with putting that kind of beauty into words. I am night person and I have better words for describing that than the sun and colors and blazing sunsets. I hate it, but its the truth. I always wanted to describe a sunny day eloquently and someday I intend to do so. Until then you will all have to make do with my paltry attempts. Enjoy!

Water into Fire

Songs sound out monotone.
Colors all out in monochrome.
The heavy clouds move across the sky
The rain falls before my eyes.
What a weary day.

The sun shines about the clouds.
The birds dare to sing aloud.
Color floods a drab world.
Light catches water as it whirls,
Into the ground.

A blazing sun meeting ground,
Glorious light again abounds.
Setting the dusky sky ablaze,
The last of the day to raze.
Daylight dies away.
-Constance

A lament.

Right here at the beginning I want to say that none of you, my readers, should go feeling sorry for me. I wrote this late last night or early this morning, depends on how you look at it, and I was just having a "poor me" pity party and I all better now. I have those from time to time and then I am good for a while. It is just how I cope with all of this. I have found that these maudlin moods of mine do result in some artistic inspiration if I am at a place where I can indulge in it. Using these moods to do something productive, I find, is also rather cathartic and I feel much better. So, I am feeling much better today and I got a decent poem out of my moodiness. I even have a title! Now you all must be really proud of me! Anyway, just enjoy my latest poem and forgive me for going so long without posting. Up until recently I have been desperately lacking in inspiration and I couldn't even bring myself to post my older poetry.

Lament of the Lonely

I look out through the forrest.
I imagine running to the sea.
Seemingly endless expanses
of the world before me.
I am so small here.

How am I meant to stand
To face things alone,
To survive with you gone,
So far from home?
I feel so alone here.

Despite the support, the love,
The family, the friends,
Cold creeps deeply into my soul.
I pray for relief, for warmth.
I grow cold here.

Tears hide reserved, deeply they hide.
I have a well within myself
Sealed so tightly, none shall see,
The deep yawning chasm in me.
I am so empty here.

My love screams for you.
My skin feels dry and brittle.
My sorrow will pass from me.
To visit another day.
I am not trapped here.
-Constance

Some more of my weirdness for you!

So I wrote this last night and once again I'm not sure where it came from. I wonder if this is what a fiction writer goes through. I was just listening to some music and had this pop into my head. It's a little dark and I'm not positive what exactly is going on. There is a very definate sense of some one reaping what they've sown though. That much I have picked up. Some one has done something evil and selfish and is paying the price. Whoever the speaker is has absolutely no pity for them, no forgiveness, and is a little bit gleeful about their fall. In any case I am posting it so I can share with you my poetic wackiness. Let me know what you think is going on. I would love some feedback and perspective on this.



Pagan; A Traitor

A sacrine sweet sound
Piercing the hazy fog,
Penetrating the smoke
Smoke surrounding my soul.

Sacrificed on a funeral pyre
Over pages so pagan.
Words spoken crumble
Ashes in a faithless mouth.

Ruthless control rendered in hands,
Hands so frigid and skeletal.
Embers glow in the black.
Ash rising to join the wind.

Bare bones charred
Exposed to the universe.
Time watches the torment,
Torture of an innocent soul.

Does your mind war within,
A battleground your inner self
Blood dripping from your soul?
No sympathy have I for your pain.

It is yours rightfully earned.
Bask in the blackness,
The suffocating evil of self.
A complete succumbing.

The wickedness overtakes you.
I name you faithless traitor,
Pagan demonstrator to humanity.
Drown in the waters your ways have wrought.
-Constance

Dawn

I watched the sun come up this morning, which is a pretty big deal really, since it requires you to be awake for it and Caleb was still sleeping. Still, I was awake so I watched the sun come up. I don't usually wax sentimental about dawn, I am an sunset kind of girl or even better a moonlight lover. The sunrise was just so beautiful this morning though. So, while sitting on the front porch and sipping a cup of tea I wrote this. I am not completely happy with it because I didn't quite acheive the effect I was going for and I couldn't get my brain to come up with words befitting the glory of it all. I am reasonable happy with it anyway and I hope you all enjoy it! May you have a wonderful and very blessed day!

Incredible Dawn

The sun peeks over the horizon
Chasing away the grey predawn hues.
Dawn's brilliant pinks and purples,
Slicing through to start the day.

Radiant light warms my face
And fills the cockles of my heart
With its warmth and light
Chasing away the dark of night.

Beauty and magnificence all around,
Leaves me in awe of God's artistry.
-Constance

One word. That's all it took.

I wrote this today. I am ever so proud of myself. The inspiration for this is kind of odd for me. One word spawned and entire poem. I was listening to music, as per usual, and I heard one word, "fire," and that was it. The word fire brought to mind dragons and from there the ball just rolled along. Dragons destroy and consume, so it seemed logical to use one as a metaphore for life. We fight everyday, whether we realize it or not, to stay afloat and every second of happiness. Maybe we don't always feel the strain of it, but even a smile or laugh is a choice. You choose to enjoy life. If you didn't you would be content to let life consume you and eat up your soul. There would be no happiness, no smiles, no joy, nothing. Misery would be all that you had to hold close to your heart. So, yeah, I think it is an ongoing battle to be happy in this world. Every choice is a strategic move, even the simple ones, because they affect you in some way and every way you are affected has an impact. We slay dragons every day, only to turn around and do it again and again. Some day we won't have to, but until we leave this world we do. I think I expressed a lot in this particular poem. I hope you all enjoy it.

Dragons

Life consumes us.
Its fires they rage.
A dragon always there,
Night and day.

Rigid control
Keeps us going on.
Waiting for an opening
A chink in the armor.

Waiting for the dragon
Its weakness to show.
To pierce its belly
To obliterate the threat.

We wait for peace.
The peace of mind.
To rest a while.
It never really comes.
-Constance

The judgement seat.

For the past few days I have been contemplating the nature of man and his tendancy to judge those around him. This, of course, is no new thing, but it never ceases to amaze me. Not only that, but we judge and then find every one wanting in some way. People are just that, people. We are full of flaws, which really should make a person stop the judgement and take a look at themselves. We rarely do though. I am not trying to point fingers because I too am guilty of looking at others and thinking myself in some way superior. You would be hard pressed to find someone who hasn't put themselves in the judgement seat. So I found this poem that I wrote several years ago, well almost five years ago actually. (There is a date on it!) I read it and thought it oddly appropriate for my state of mind. Funny that I ran across it just a couple of days ago in a book in my bookcase. That is the way God works though. He brings things to your attention and then continues to reinforce that until he is finished dealing with you on that subject. I hope it speaks to you as it has spoken to me. Then again it is mine so one would think it should always speak to me!

The Forgiven

Here we are
Casting stones
When we should be
Collecting souls.
Are we the sinless lambs?
We are the forgiven
Clensed by The Spotless Lamb.

Foolish children
We live to love
And glorify Him aove.
With His love
Who are we to accuse
When we ourselves are prostitutes.
Or if not then scribes and Pharisees.
Counterproductive to Jesus' will.
He sees us and loves us still.
We are the forgiven
Clensed by The Spotless Lamb.
-Constance