To April!

After reading April's blog I went on a Bowie kick starting with "The Man Who Sold the World" and from the I went all over the place with my Bowie and people covering Bowie. While some of it made my ears bleed and offended my musician's heart others were fabulous. I know April was sure I would flame her for posting Nirvana's cover of Bowie's "The Man Who Sold the World" but like I told her I actually like it! As a matter of fact I have been known to listen to Nirvana's version just as often as Bowie's. That is not to say I like their version better because I am a die hard Bowie fan and that would be an impossiblity for me. So since I have no idea what poem to post I am posting the lyrics to go with April's video. Song lyrics are after all poetry sent into motion by music. Well, some of it is anyway. Some lyrics are just crap. Case in point... Brittany Spears songs. Okay off of that subject before I go all soap boxy on you. Here are the lyrics which I love. It's a brilliant song from a brilliant, if not extremely strange man.

The Man Who Sold the World

We passed upon the stair, we spoke of was and when
Although I wasn't there, he said I was his friend
Which came as some surprise I spoke into his eyes
I thought you died alone, a long long time ago

Oh no, not me
I never lost control
You're face to face
With The Man Who Sold The World

I laughed and shook his hand, and made my way back home
I searched for form and land, for years and years I roamed
I gazed a gazely stare at all the millions here
We must have died along, a long long time ago

Who knows? not me
We never lost control
You're face to face
With the Man who Sold the World

See isn't that great! I know a lot of people who've never actually heard Bowie do this. If you haven't go on youtube and check it out!

Sacrifice

I often find myself wondering how Jesus could sacrifice himself for us. I know He loves us and all of that, but can you imagine? Imagine leaving behind a divine home to come to earth as a human baby! I once heard some one say that it would be something like us becoming a slug so that we could save them. Not that we are slugs exactly, but we are just that far away from Christ's divinity and all that He had. Still He did it and isn't that amazing? I hope that I never cease to be amazed at that sacrifice. His resurrection too is quite an awe inspiring thing as well, but the initial sacrifice is what leaves me feeling so humbled. What must it have been like to know you were going to die and why and be willing to do it just because you loved that much? Still, He loves us and how much more humbling is that?
Since I have been in this frame of mind this morning I though I should give you a poem I wrote several years ago that is actually extremely appropriate. I remember writing this very clearly. My dad was actually preaching and this came to me. Most of my good stuff comes to me in church. (I know you are probably thinking I shouldn't be writing in church!) It usually starts with something the preacher says and then wham! I have a line in my head. Of course, I have to write it down and it just kind of goes from there. It only takes a few minutes usually and I can get right back to the sermon. So here is what I wrote a whole 4 years ago.

His Grace

Rain sounds in His place
And I wonder on His face.
What a mighty God is He
That commands the sky and sea.

His hands can calm
Or raise a storm
And yet the cross
He has worn.

And as the torrent comes down
I think of His thorny crown.
How a saviour with such grace
Can bear to look upon my face?
-Constance

A Return

Wow! Two posts in one day! You should all be so proud of me. Earlier today I posted a poem written by Robert Burns because I had nothing of my own that fit the occasion. I did, however, promise that should I write something that did fit I would post it. Well, I've done it! It isn't exactly what I was going for, but I am still fairly pleased with it. Of course, most artist, even amatures like myself, are rarely truely pleased with their work. I think that is mostly because what you have in mind and what comes out rarely match. Still, I managed to write something so I am very pleased about that. I even managed to give it a title, which is also the title of this blog entry! I hope you all like it!

A Return

My heart leaps,
Joy is so immense.
The swell inside myself
Is far beyond intense.

To have you returned,
My love, my heart, my life,
The past weeks with loneliness,
Have been truely rife.

I know that time
Is but a fleeting thing
A small reprieve for us.
It with joy shall ring.

And when time is gone,
When I am left again
Alover lost, alone,
In my soul it will rain.

Tears of sadness will fill it.
Hope will live inside
Waiting for you return.
Hope in myself shall hide.
-Constance

I think that is fairly appropriate and conveys fairly well things I feel. I like that about poetry. You can let the world know how you feel in a nice flowery way and it's okay because poetry is meant to be at least a little flowery. That is it for today I think. At least, I don't plan on posting again until tomorrow.

Jacob is home so read a Scottish poem!

I don't have a poem that is appropriate for the occasion. I have looked and come up empty handed. Nothing I have written speaks to me in the appropriate way. Maybe I will write something later and post it. I am feeling rather inspired today, probably due to having my sweetheart back, even if for just a short while. So since I couldn't find anything of my own to share I went in search of something relatively appropriate to share that some one else had written. After searching I came up with a poem by the Scottish poet Robert Burns. It's always fun to read his work because you have to get through all of the oddly spelled words. Being Scottish he spells some of his words differently than we as Americans would. If you ever get the chance you should read more of his works. He wrote some remarkable poems. I love to read his work! While this isn't really the perfect poem and maybe I should have stuck with one about love returning I just really felt like this is the one for today.

O, My Luve is Like a Red Red Rose

O, my luve is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June.
O, my luve is like a melodie,
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I,
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi the sun!
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only luve!
And fare thee weel, a while!
And I will come again, my luve,
Tho it were ten thousand mile!
-Robert Burns

Random Selection

I had no rhyme or reason for picking this particular poem today. I just went trough and decided that I like this one. It deals with truth and human nature and a little bit with sin. There are actually several things a person could read into this poem. Sin, Satan, truth, human nature, fear, denial or emotional avoidance. It just depends on the reader. I hope you like it. This one, like many of my poems, doesn't have a title. I have a hard time with those. I don't know why, but I can write a poem, no problem, but ask me to give it a title and my brain goes on vacation to la-la land.


Blazing tounges
Engulf humanity.
Passion red berries
Steal our sanity.

Cold snow
Freezes lost souls.
He pretends knowledge
To those who don't know.

And away in corner
Truth hides,
In a human shaped
Desolate bottle.

Alone, scared
Because he is
Not welcome.
Not what you wish to hear.

He may remind you,
Of your own scars.
That...
You most fear.
-Constance

My weirdness... or craziness maybe?

This is another poem of mine that like the last one is just strange. Unlike the last one this one I can't make any sense of and I wrote it! The writing of this poem was a little odd too. Usually I write because I have something to say about something or to give myself an emotional outlet. This was not the case at all with the writing of this one. I was actually in a poem writing mood and had written several poems over the course of a few days and I was just sitting around reading them over when suddenly I felt the need to write. This is what came out. I have read it over and over and I still have no clue where it came from or what it's about, other than there is a somewhat creepy woman and my ever present theme of night. (I like night in case you haven't noticed.) If anybody deciphers the surreal weirdness of this poem let me know. It would be nice to understand my own freaking poem!



She wandered out
Into the obsidian night
Illuminated only by stars,
By the burning moonbeams of light.

Casting mad hazy shadows
Round and round on the ground
Arms flung abover her head
reaching wildly for the sky.

A silvery dark goddess
In the untamed beauty of
The mysterious nocturnal world,
Drawing you unerringly in.

And how can a mere man,
One such as yourself,
Be expected to resist such?
Her otherworldly grace?

Her silvery grey eyes,
Looking so much like
Her night time dance partner,
The grey moonlight?

She is the night siren
Inspiring the world
And the stories men write
And their dreams at night.

Beauty, grace, passion,
Light and dark, untamed heart,
A dream of the most ethereal
She embodies the night you feel.
-Constance

You got the creepy woman and night right?

Mystery

I wrote this poem about a dream I had. Ever since I wrote it I wondered what it meant. At first it seemed kind of strange. If you didn't know better you might think I had consumed a hallucinogenic drug. I was kind of hesitant to share it because it is a little strange and I wasn't sure of how it would be recieved. While I was talking to April a little while ago I told her about it and she said she would like to read it and I figured since she wanted to read it and my weirdness is bound to come out sooner or later I might as well go ahead and share it.
I really did dream this though and I have come to the conclusion that this is my subconscious' image of God. He holds the whole universe and He is the universe. He has everything and is everything. That is what I have come up with, but you are free to form your own opinion.

Dream visions

I drempt of a man
When I was young.
He carried the world
In His shirt pocket.

The stars lived
In His shining eyes
And the moon was
His glowing smile.

The universe sat
Upon His strong brow
And the sun shone
From all about Him.

I fell from
The sky
Into those eyes
And into His face.
-Constance

There you go, my dream's God. It's full of imagery and it is a little strange. Let me know what you think it is... or if you just agree.

Flashback!

On that fateful night of trying to spruce up my blog with April, I asked her to look through my poetry and pick one out. Then I ran off without my books and then I had a brand new piece to share so I put off putting up the one she picked out. No more. I will be sharing the poem that April picked out. I personally think she picked it out because it was written about her brother (who can blamer her?) and not because it was all that great.
I wrote it years ago! I am talking at least 7 years if not closer to 8 years. So this is a bit of a flashback for me and a glimps of the old me or the young me rather. Feel free to grin at a poem written by a sixteen year old me. Although, I have stayed with the very man this is written about so maybe I should give myself a little more credit. I suppose it doesn't really matter. The poem is very simple, sweet, idealistic, and honest in a way that only a sixteen year old girl can be. I hope you all enjoy it!

Committed

I know this is not
The ideal love affair,

But my darling,
I do not care.

My love for you
Is strong and true,

I will never leave
Or forsake you.

Life has a much
Happier sheen,

When on your
Love I can lean.
-Constance

I'm a sap!

For those of you who didn't know, my blog got all messed up when April and I attempted to make it all fancy. It's all fixed now and I am moving on. Well, it's all fixed in that I have a whole new one! Still, all of the things that were on the other blog are on this one and you can comment again. (Please)
Now, I didn't bother putting up a blog yesterday. I got home late and I just plain didn't feel like it. Today, however, I feel the need to make up for it. I love Valentine's day! I really do! I'm a sap in the worst kind of way. I like sappy chick-flicks that you need a box of tissue with and I love to read those, oh so cliche, poems and sonnets that most people just ignore. So to further entrench myself in the ranks of "great big saps are us" I will share a poem I wrote today. It is, you guessed it, a love poem of the corniest kind. I hope you all get a cavity from the sacarine sweetness of my mushy, love-drenched verse.

Everything

You are my everything.
A cliche it's true,
But everything I am
loves you.

You are my soul's mate.
My hearts truest song.
My minds refuge.
All of my dreams realized.

So we aren't a fairy tale,
All flowering romance,
And blazing sunsets.
We are love.

You are my everything.
-Constance

There you go. If you like it I am flattered. If you don't... well snicker away! lol!

Ooops!

I went to April's tonight so that she could help me make my blog a little less boring. As you will notice it looks much better now. I even have music! This, of course, makes me smile. Now I took my collection of poems so she could maybe help me pick out which one to share with you for todays entry. The problem with this is that when I left her house to head back home I forgot to take them with me. I guess they can keep her company until I can get back over there and bring my precious books back home. Since I failed to bring them home with me I will be sharing another's work with you. I have always loved William Blake. I am especially fond of his Songs of Innocence. This collection of poetry are so beautiful and speak to me. Every time I read them I fall in love with Blake's eloquence all over again. I am going to share "The Lamb" today. I know some of you may have read it before, but my other favorite is "The Night" and I feel that night has been covered sufficiently in my past two entries. I can't help myself. I love night, the moon, and all of those nocturnal sorts of things so you will probably see a lot of reference to night from me. Okay, back to the point of this blog. "The Lamb" seemed to be the more logical choice between the two so here it is. I hope everyone enjoys it as much as I do.

Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
Gave thee life, and bid thee feed
By the stream and o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing, woolly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?

Little lamb, I'll tell thee,
Little lamb, I'll tell thee:
He is called by thy name,
For He calls Himself a Lamb.
He is meek, and He is mild;
He became a little child.
I a child, and thou a lamb,
We are called by His name.
Little lamb, God bless thee!
Little lamb, God bless thee!
-William Blake


See? It's beautiful!

Yay me!

Yay me! Here I am making my second entry! Of course, I have have spent all morning deciding which one of these I feel comfortable putting up. It is a lot harder than I had first thought it would be to share something so personal as your own poetry. That is not to say I thought it was no big deal, I just wasn't anticipating the amount of anxiousness that comes with putting them up and letting them go. They are very private things and I am on here making them very, very public things. I begin to wonder how people handle publishing their work. It must be torture!

The poem I am sharing today is actually several years old. I can't remember what was going on at the time, but apparently I was feeling philosophical, a little optimistic, and a whole lot of naive. Still I liked it when I re-read it so I hope you do too!

Velvet Curtain

The darkness falls

Like a black vlevet curtain

Covering the world's deeds,

Both noble and vile.

So the naked irises of everyday people

Won't know the difference when faced with them.

I consider our love,

While cloaked in this velvet disguise.

Shouldn't love penetrate

The thick material of mortal blindness

Like the stars in the black sky?

Shouldn't hate be punctured in random regions?

So much pain and anger consume our race

Like so many arms of black tar

Drowning hope in the mortal space.

Filling innoccent eyes with darkness.

Not knowing how to see

Or the light to make them free.

Shouldn't we shine a little brighter,

Give these blinded hope for loves starry light?

Show them creation and those created to love.

Like that effulgent star; the sun

Coming over the horizon with its life giving warmth.

-Constance

Well, there you have it. Let me know what you think!

And so it begins...

Here I am, at the urging of my sister-in-law, starting a blog. I have never done regular blogging before, so this will be an entirely new experience for me. My plan for this blog is to share some of my favorite poems as well as share some of my original poetry. I may also from time to time just go off on a rant or something like that. As for my poetry, it is nothing particularly deep or wonderful. My poems have no real form or particular style I just write it as it comes. I would like to hear what others think of my compositions though. I have never shared it with very many people so I am a bit anxious to see what others think of it. For my first blog entry I will give you both an original piece by me and one of my favorites! I hope everyone enjoys them.

Soul deep night- dark, sparkling.
Obsidian silk- wrapping the senses.
Wintry bluster coming fast
Getting closer , almost upon us.

Into the sky my gaze flies
And wondering at the fathomless miles.

Who can count them?
The miles to the stars,
The lightyears to the end of the universe,
The depths of the heart?

Into myself my consiouness roams
And I wonder at the depth of my soul.

The myriad of emotions,
The kaleidescope dreams,
The hope of a growing future,
The puzzling over of things.

My self echoes with my soul's song,
Hoping to hear another sing along.
-Constance


Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
-Dylan Thomas

Well, ther you go! I have completed my first blog entry! Let me know what you think!