Xapa to the World

  • 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 ><>

  • Poem: A Glimpse of Romance

    Here’s one of my cheesy poems.  It is based on a sonnet by Shakespeare…Sonnet XLIII (43).  But my poem is an expectant poem, at best.  Enjoy! (Oh, read to the punctuation…it will help you in understanding it.)

    12/26/05

    My beating heart.
    It beats twice to each breath.
    It quickens at just one thought that rings through my mind.
    The thought is electrifying,
    Passing through each part of my body and makes me cold.
    Oh how I long to see him,
    The one who walks in my dreams to meet me.
    With baited breath I wait for him,
    As one waits to see the ocean a first time.
    She doesn’t know the waves and sounds,
    Or how the sunlight dances on the waters.
    She only knows it is something that her heart yearns for
    Even if the sight is in passing;
    It is something she must lay her eyes on.
    Yes, the eyes which sparkle with as many stars as her own,
    Reflecting the lights of midnight in the sky.
    Van Gogh has naught to compare with their brilliance.
    She knows that in his heart is a dream
    As vibrant as the one planted in hers.
    This dream surrounds her in his thoughts and consumes him
    To a point where he dare not try to escape.
    To leave would mean certain death in his mind –
    Death to his heart, his life, and the dream luminous in his eyes.
    Without her in his life, he would be dead to the world
    And any passion that life could bring would shadow
    In the dark that her leaving would bring him.
    I know he’ll be here, even if I only meet him in my dreams.
    For a dream makes my night brighter than the day
    When he is with me.

     – Sarah ><>

  • Poem: Loneliness Vs. Truth

    November 30th, 2005

    I don’t know why
    Every time Christmas rolls around
    Why I’m reminded of a solitude
    Which habitually hangs over me.
    Of all things to think about
    It’s my least favorite.
    Give me anything else,
    Even natural disasters, and I’ll be fine.
    This feeling is not just my own,
    But shared by the whole of humanity.
    A nagging feeling inside that
    Whatever the circumstance, situation,
    We are alone.
    Yet, I know I’m not alone!
    This pain that creeps into my heart each winter
    Is not brought by Truth.
    It is an attempt to supplant my hope.
    It is a tactic by one who terrorizes the night
    Who seeks to take our focus off of
    The One Who is forever with us
    And put it on us,
    Sinners stuck in a sinful world.
    This is loneliness, but it is not Truth.

    Sarah ><>

  • Poem: I Remember

    So, a couple of years ago, my college group was sitting down for its Bible Study on September 11th.  I forget which day of the week it was…seems like Sunday…and earlier that week, I had printed out a list of all the guys from Ohio who had been killed in the war.  We sat and read through each name and then had a moment of silence.  It was really moving…at least for me.  And then I wrote another poem…per norm.  Here it is:

    I Remember


    September 11th, 2005

    I remember how it felt –
    The disbelief, the awe –
    With the smoke pouring out
    Of the tall, strong towers.

    I remember the fear
    That crawled onto everyone’s face,
    How the hair began to stand
    And sleep failed to come.

    I remember the hatred
    That filled many walls,
    Even those with Your Name
    Plastered and painted in gold.

    I remember the sorrow
    As the many died
    And our boys put on uniforms
    Fighting for us abroad.

    I remember the looks
    On faces, first stunned,
    Then numbed and
    Then, forgetting their purpose.

    I remember it all
    And I shudder at
    How quickly we all fall
    And forget our despair.

     – Sarah ><>

    Have YOU forgotten?