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WoundsThe time when verses flow most freely from my mind
Is not when life has altogether been too kind:
The echoed strains of joy, what words could catch and capture
The speechlessness of laughter, hearts abrim with rapture?
It's hopelessness and sorrow baring wounds through words,
A crust of scabbed emotions daring to be heard;
It itches mightily, and though you want to rip
Apart the hurt and all reminders in one strip,
It stings to know there is no bottom but an ooze,
This awful spring of inspiration, pain-infused.
But give it time to heal, protect it from all harm,
And off it comes. The skin beneath is new and warm
And paler than before, but solid in its form.
Memory #4: The CostIn my sophomore year, we would have prayer meetings every Wednesday afternoon. I would say that weekly meetups and prayer meetings were the times I learned the most that year. On one level, I learned about prayer itself, and how many different ways you could pray. You could pray through the Word (praying through a psalm was a particular favorite of mine), you could pray in one voice with each other, you could simply praise and adore God, or thank him. Along with my meetups I learned more about confessing in prayer as well. On another level, I learned a lot about the many different things we could intercede for. We would pray for our campus, our ministry, our missionaries, and most importantly, our people and the various facets of their lives. It felt that every prayer meeting was learning a new thing about prayer.
But even more than these substantial lessons, I learned a lot from the older people who led the prayers. Seeing their example as prayerful men and women left a deep impressio
UnspokenUntil the day appointed when I stand
And tell you all the hope you fill in me,
I'll tell you naught of what I understand
Within my heart, unseized by urgency.
For in the promise now I see no need
To haste the swelling feeling deep inside
Nor give up hope: to pray and not to plead,
To slowly bridge this shortening divide.
But we are closer than I could have thought,
And in the light of such proximity
The sentiment our interactions wrought
Are all too easy for your eyes to see.
For now, let this reward you for your wait:
The tenderness my actions indicate.
LifthrasirWhose princely air proudly
Passed the sea in freefalls,
Who sought peace, sword flaming,
Striking words like forgefalls,
Pride of Berk, battleworn,
Breathing life where strife falls,
Prized by Líf in prayer:
Their pressed lips, blessed footfalls.
Away at HomeLord, be my home and all my stay
When even home feels far away:
Let my own kin say what they may,
Lord, be my home and all my stay.
For heaven holds me in its sway,
My single passion day to day.
Lord, be my home and all my stay
When even home feels far away.
Sandwich IslandPotato salad and a turkey bacon:
All it took to show me how the days
Have heaped on like a sandwich in the making.
Twenty years now stacked on bright red trays
With food and paper plates and Styrofoam,
Symbols of good taste and friendly ways.
I wonder what had roused her then to roam
And settle in this aging college town.
She heard me speak the language of her home
And something must have moved her heart deep down
To save my weekly order in her mind.
Some turn to comfort food upon a frown,
And yet more consolation there I find
A fullness of a heartfelt， hometown kind.
Memory #2: NinjaIn the final days of APUSH my junior year, our teacher had us write letters to ourselves five years from now. Last week it came into the mail, and understandably, I was curious to see what my 16 year old self wanted to tell my 21 year old self. As it turns out, he didn’t really have much to say (so my memory of not knowing what to write was confirmed), only to talk to a bunch of my friends and to refer to a game we used to play: Ninja.
I don’t remember who brought Ninja into West Ranch High School, but I remember that when it did hit it was the bomb. The basic premise of the game was that everyone would stand in a circle, and you would count to three. On three, everyone would strike a pose, and taking turns, you would try to hit other people’s hands to get them out. The goal was to be the last person standing.
I’ve played it a couple times in college, and hearing of other people’s different versions, I can safely conclude that we took Ninja way too serious
Memory #1: The Perfect BiteI don't remember what age I was exactly when I had In-N-Out for the first time. It was when I was five or six, around preschool or kindergarten. But I can vividly remember what it tasted like, where we were, and how I earned it.
At the time, I had two major haunts: the Duarte public library and the LA Zoo. Now in those days, the public libraries had a deal of some sort where if you read five books, you could get a certificate for a free hamburger. Being the kind of kid who would check out and read 20 or so books a week, I made short work of it. I remember my mom taking me and my little sister to the In-N-Out in Arcadia, the one that has no indoor seating, and I remember she took us to a park. It was quite a nice summer day, and we sat on a picnic bench in the shade. My mom let me carry the bag, and I remember that I was ravenous by the time we got there. It smelt so good, and when I bit into it, I don't think I have ever had a better bite of a burger than that first bite. Soft bun, sau
A Frozen Ballad, Part VThe First Time in Forever
Three years had passed, and all the world
Was sailing on its way
To Arendelle, for Elsa was
To bear the crown that day.
How towering the stately masts
And billowing the sails!
How joyful were the people's songs
Sung over hills and dales!
The castle gates, which once were closed
For thirteen weary years,
Now opened, and the eager throng
Streamed in with loudest cheers.
And yet, against the tide, a maiden
Hastened out the door,
The first time in forever she
Could go out and explore.
Sweet Anna, with her rosy cheeks
And eyes aglow with glee,
Was singing, dancing in the town,
For she had been set free.
Now as she sauntered up and down
The dockyards and the streets,
She crashed into a foreign horse,
And swept right off her feet.
The rider was Prince Hans, who hailed
From Southern Isles' shores,
A handsome face that hid a heart
With malice in its core.
But Anna, captivated by
His warmth and princely charm,
Returned to Elsa with no clue
Of near-impending harm.
twitterlight oblivioni remember we had a picnic once,
on a melting summer day.
the roses spilled their fragrance,
the petals spiralling away.
we spent the morning in the sunlight,
and the evening under the moon.
the fireflies flew their drunken flight
while the lovebirds began to croon.
a glassful of spicy chai,
a pocketful of sky,
that day i picked a bouquet of happinesses,
just for you and I.
EightThe whistling wind blows with a sweet aroma,
Causing flower and blade of grass to bow.
The clouds hid the sun for a moment,
But the glory of the day would not allow.
As the birds rang out in harmony,
Further along, in a piney forest,
Waved prickly needles and spiny cones
Swaying with the sound of the chorus.
And there, in a meadow, on soft earth I sat
Looking across the way at his teasing eyes.
He smiled at me, then turned away
As my heart screamed out with anxious cries.
It rises from down within me-
My love for him, I can't deny;
I cannot hide what's true inside
No matter how hard I truly try.
He takes up my every thought-
I'm surely falling in love-
While being with this boy
Under deep blue skies above.
Love/hate: ZaGrYou may be from an another planet
Where you can dream about who you want to be
Trying to be with me suddenly
But that doesn't work with me
But here is dangerous and you have to chose carefully
About who you are and who you want to be
Even knowing if somebody's that one
Who is brave enough
That can handle a person like me
You may be annoying and loud
But I learned your really sweet to me
We have a lot in common in many ways
But that doesn't mean anything to me
You tried to steal my love in many ways
Thinking it work
But you should be careful
You shouldn't mess around with my demon that lurks
What you didn't know is that
I like you the same way
Taking that one day
To kiss you and love you forever
Like the king and queen overruling the world with powers of several
Cinnamon Skin The scent of cinnamon strong,
tickling my nostrils,
playful and dangerous.
and a water,
a sanctuary to a certain few.
The perfume that heats my cheeks,
and brightens my days.
Glorious in its tan,
and sweet in its flavor.
Your cinnamon skin,
With each kiss,
your flavor sticks on my tongue,
and the sun shines brighter.
Endless CyclePush back the tears.
Swallow the pain.
Hold it all in,
Until driven insane.
Stop your heart,
By letting love in.
Rhyming ConfessionI'm not really sure how to explain
These feelings I get when I hear your name.
To tell you the truth, they drive me insane
And I'm not really sure what to do.
I've known you for ages, so why is it now
When I hear your voice, my heart beats so loud?
Why do I feel like I'm walking on clouds
Simply by just being near you?
Why do I write my emotions with rhymes?
It seems like a cheesy waste of my time.
But you are so unique, and truly sublime,
I felt that a poem was fitting.
You see, I find your mind truly remarkable.
Your willingness to speak up, highly ad
Abayo, yamamusumeGrant me, heavenly Euterpe,
Light words as set I to verse
Days in miracle immers’d,
Bidding adieu my blue magpie:
Like Delphic daffodil just ripe,
Didst thou spring in wintry clime;
O, with coy bloom but fairness bright,
Thaw’d fruitless times thy shine.
Thus, cometh a poet’s summer:
Endow’d Pygmalion skill,
T’ward thy name’s youth I endeavour’d
With forever pregnant quill.
Yet, like th’harvest’s sickl’d lantern
Rais’d ‘bove tempting fall’s embrace:
From far shade a fickle return,
Whilst hid elsewhere thy true face.
Now, as fleeing Proserpine,
Fixt Fates dictate thee to fly;
Aye, good-bye; for free thee do I
As how cam’st thou to me, gaily.
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