Xapa to the World

Category: Poetry

  • Poem: Cold Winter 6

    6
    February 17th, 2007

    The dark engulfs me and the trees surrounding.
    The moon is bright behind the branches
    Causing the limbs to look other-worldly
    Refracting through the ice encased around them.
    Oh I’m warm in my little car,
    But cold is lurking outside,
    Wishing to take me aside and introduce me
    To this Martian foliage of glass and light.
    But I know if we become acquainted
    It would spell certain death to me.
    Yes, to know these beasts, to be intimate!
    I can’t even imagine.
    Such a look of wonder presides on my face
    As I stare out the window at the trees.
    Can they be real? Or,
    Maybe they are in my mind,
    With their vibrant illumination.
    Hmm, I cannot tell.
    They must be real, but I’m sure they would
    Break if I stare much longer.

     – Sarah ><>

  • Poem: Musings of a Romance

    December 28th, 2006

    I was meant to be a lover,

    If only to watch others forge trails through another’s heart.

    My own heart leaps at a tale of romance –

    One steadily sought by an unabashed suitor –

    Denial, realization, and acceptance after humility.

    I’ve tried to project myself into these witting trifles

    But I feel as though they don’t fit properly;

    Like a square peg in a rounded hole.

    Perhaps my tale will wax as a trapezoid

    With more bends and angles and darts.

    I’ve already seen the path grow dusty,

    Rained upon and heavily trampled. 

    Yet, there still remains a part of the road

    Unlaid and untraveled, a solid frontier,

    Where one will gently walk with me.

    Sarah ><>

  • Poem: The Heavy Moon

    December 11th, 2006

    The night is falling around me,

    As the colors of the sun sink below the line of trees.

    My spirits are down tonight,

    Thinking of unfulfilled dreams and distant goals.

    Inability and incapacity weigh my heart in the evening.

    Feelings incapability and stagnation are deadening.

    I sigh, and turn around the car to drive back home.

    Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a light.

    Natural and serene, but present just the same,

    I toss my glance to the side and see the moon.

    My old friend. 

    He is fat and plump stationed in the sky.

    He has the color of a pumpkin aging gently.

    Seeing him makes my heart leap,

    For he is a dear friend and a messenger from God

    Reminding me of His love and care. 

    The world around me seems to melt away,

    Then suddenly it fills back in like the light of the stars,

    Or waves crashing on a rocky cliff. 

    I thank my friend for his delivering the message

    And kiss at the sky to my Papa

    And drive home feeling lighter than the heavy moon.

    Sarah ><>

  • Poem: Time = Clarity?

    November 8th, 2006

    “Timing is everything.”
    So they say
    And every day I live, I find out
    How true it is.
    These past couple of years are spent in haziness,
    Like the fog outside,
    Filling in thegaps of the trees.
    Reminds me of the cotton in a
    Bottle of pills.
    No, this is softer, less coarse.
    It’s pleasant to my eyes, my mind.
    I love the fog.
    I know, some point, it will become clear
    But I’m enjoying sitting here,
    Ignorant of what’s 30 feet ahead of me.
    All I see is me, fog, and the near distance.
    I feel a Presence, beyond my sight,
    I know it’s You.
    And I love it.  I love, love – love it.
    Is seeing clearly asll it has to be?
    Or can I be content in this
    Pea-soup dream of a reality?
    I think I can.  Should I?
    Only time will tell.

    by Sarah ><>

  • Poem: Thoughts on a Fall Day

    October 28th, 2006

    A windy, cold day –
    The trees tossing and stretching
    As clouds speckle the sky
    Of bright blue.
    Contrast the softer brown of
    The fading leaves;
    Brittle and weak
    As a robin’s egg, abandoned.
    Fall, the season of dying,
    Putting away the colors of
    Summer and Spring.
    A season of change,
    Aggressive, dull, unwanted by some.
    Yet, deceived by the blue sky,
    Beckoning the memories to a gentler time
    Of vibrancy and life.
    It betrays the mind and the heart
    As winter creeps in closer.

    Sarah ><>

  • Poem: Outburst

    Hey everyone!  Here’s another poem for your enjoyment.  I wrote this poem in response to an overwhelming feeling that I needed to do something creative.  I love artistic endeavors, whether it’s singing, playing my piano or violin, or painting some furniture and wooden pieces, or writing a poem.  I didn’t actually have anything in mind to do, I just wanted to DO something…and so came this poem.  Enjoy it!

    PS.  The phrase “Make love to the media” isn’t provocative…it’s meant to show an indulgence in romance which comes from the different forms of media (pen, paper, paint, music, etc).

    June 23rd, 2006

    I feel artsy!
    Where’s my pen? My pad?
    My easel? My paintbrush?
    My violin’s tuned and my fingers ready,
    Come muse of my muses,
    Let’s get with the music!
    This canvas is blank and itching for color
    A picture is forming,
    A dance of brushes!
    My pen is brand new to be broken in
    With words after words
    Making sweet movement.
    Come with me and enjoy imagination
    Artistic expression
    Make love to the media.
    It soon will be over
    So come quick,
    Come now!

    Sarah ><>

  • Poem: Watching the Air

    May 20th, 2006

    Two spectators enjoying the day –
    A beautiful sun and gentle breeze,
    Both watching the planes
    Coming in and out.
    We want so badly to be up there too,
    But I’m on the ground and
    His wings are too small.
    So we’re sitting and watching,
    Content to be landlocked with the sky high above.
    I sing out a song
    His chirps fill the air –
    Both grateful to be alive
    And listening to Brandenburg play from my car.
    Someday we’ll both get our wings.

    Sarah ><>

  • Poem: Presence in a Storm

    May 17th, 2006

    Something about a storm makes me
    Feel the presence of Yahweh.
    My God – Papa – His name fills my mouth
    As sweet as honey.
    The thunder, the lightning…
    It’s all Him, nothing more, nothing less.
    His strength blowing against the trees,
    Making them bow down to Him,
    Their creator.
    The rain announcing His omnipresence,
    He’s always there, washing us over.
    It’s overpowering – the sound of the
    Millions of drops, echoing and falling.
    Constant drop, drop, drop, drip, drop.
    I’m chilled inside by the eerie feeling of the air
    Yet warm by the understanding –
    He’s here and I’m nothing.

    Sarah ><>

  • Poem: Blasney

    May 12th, 2006

    This mind has been wasted.
    Wasted by the meaningless words
    Strung together with a melody.
    These claim poetry but have no passion.
    Oh for the days when the words would come –
    When a phrase came as easy as breathing.
    When my feelings could speak by themselves
    And were not weighed down with stress
    And longing for…anything.
    But now activities choke the life from my mouth.
    My mind is frazzled with deadlines
    And what-ifs.
    And I play with my heart –
    Tossing it here and there,
    Wondering if the one I’m tossing it to
    Is as in love with me, or
    If I’m just playing a game…
    He looks like a good catch.
    And now, with an alarm, another day
    Begins and will end before it starts.

     – Sarah ><>

  • Poem: Petal By Petal

    This poem is a special piece for me.  I wrote this after walking through a field of wildflowers.  It was sweet.  I’ve always had a special place in my heart for Queen Anne’s Lace.  I think I’ve shared it before, but the myth goes something like this:

    Queen Anne was a beautiful young lady and could sew lovely lace.  The fairies loved her because she was gentle to all the creatures of the forest and loved flowers so much.  She was sewing a particularly elaborate piece of lace when she pricked her finger with the needle.  A single drop of blood fell into the center of the lace, ruining it.  The fairies decided to honor her by making a beautiful white flower to grow wild in the forest.  This flower looks like lace on the top and has deep red petals in the center.

    I wrote this poem to illustrate my romantic relationships.  It’s based on the childhood game of pulling a petal off and saying, “He loves me, he loves me not.”  The white petals show all the guys that have taken an interest in me or who I have given myheart to for a season.  Finally, the red petals represent the ultimate love for us all, the love of Jesus Christ.  I hope you enjoy the poem!  Thanks!

    February 15th, 2006

    Like yesterday, the dream goes by
    As soft as white dandelion flowers
    Filling a green and yellow field.
    The haze of late afternoon weighs my eyes
    And I’m lost in the million thoughts.

    Queen Anne sits on her mighty throne
    And I cut it down to my size and
    Gaze at each tiny petal, the mini-flowers.

    A childhood game comes to mind.
    I sit – I rest – with my knees in the air,
    Feet firmly planted.
    “He loves me. He loves me not.”
    Over and over, repeating my plan.
    “He loves me. He loves me not.”

    Not anyone in mind, but a flutter in my heart.
    Each petal drops with his intent.
    My mind blurs in the midst of the white
    Reminisce of years gone by and
    Love at the doorstep.
    One drops yes. Another drops no.
    How easily they change their mind.
    A dainty pile growing below of disenchanted,
    Disengaged, disinterested beaus in white tuxedos.

    At last two remain.
    Yes, and red.
    Red to what can it mean?
    Only blood so pure in love divine.

    Sarah ><>