Far Beyond

Friggin’ love this far out poem! Happy birthday Pencil Princess. Way to go on ur free verse.

Pencil Princess

One last poem from my creative writing class. I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by the prospect of writing poetry, since it’s the type of storytelling I’m least experienced with.

How does one compress their creativity,
   Convey stories of sunsets and starscapes and suffering,
      In succinct stanzas?

To adequately address the axiomatic truths,
   Uncover the answers to the anagrams presented by society,
      I’d need a thousand pages;

Profound poets across history, however,
   Could engage the imagination with exquisite eloquence
      In as few as six words.

Poems that breathe life into their readers;
   Verses that playfully dance through your mind
   Hours, days, and even years after being read;
   These things have always existed far beyond
      My realm of capability.

I’m not very active on WordPress. Find me on DeviantArt:
https://www.deviantart.com/prinnamon

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Seeker

Death as a child. Love it. Follow Pencil Princess! She’s got mad writing skills already at 15.

Pencil Princess

Another poem written for a creative writing course, “Seeker” is about death, a topic I have little direct experience with. I tried to offer a unique perspective on the subject.

Death is a child.
Death’s not alive.
Death never died;
Doesn’t know why

You’re all so upset,
You’re all so afraid.
Death wonders how come
You won’t come and play.

It’s hide and seek.
It’s a matter of time.
Ready or not,
You’re easy to find.

I’m not very active on WordPress. Find me on DeviantArt:
https://www.deviantart.com/prinnamon

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First Fall

Love this poem! My daughter. You can follow at Pencil Princess! She’ll be 15 tomorrow and she’s already got writing chops. 🙂 Proud of my girl.

Pencil Princess

One of two poems written for a creative writing course, “First Fall” is about my earliest memory from childhood: sitting upside down on the sofa, then falling and hitting my head on the carpeted floor. Hope you enjoy!

Upside down,
Ceiling’s my ground.
From my lips,
Joyful sounds.

Head leaning back,
Toes in the air
On the couch
Without a care.

The carpet above
(Or is it below?)
Will cushion my fall,
So down I go.

Betrayed by carpet’s
Pillowy promise.
Of all my memories,
I’ll keep this the longest.

I’m not very active on WordPress. Find me on DeviantArt:
https://www.deviantart.com/prinnamon

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Your Face Here

Your face goes here.
Doing what you fear.
Healing an injured ear.
Wiping every tear.
Making the most of years.
Keeping faith near.
Sweeping the path clear.
Changing this whole sphere.
Shouting for the back to hear.
Ready for God to appear.

Your face goes here.

martha jesus


Galatians 2:20 NIV

20 I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me…

Government is not Religion or: Gross Misconduct

Jesus did not come as Caesar. What makes you think you change the world through politics?


Jesus wasn’t president. He didn’t get anywhere near the White House. He came through poor people who were refugees. He built things out of wood, a manual laborer. Oh, and he saved the world.
Donald Trump would have hired him and never paid the man.


The practice of Christianity is not a concern for what other people do. It is a concern for how you treat others. Jesus did not come to judge the world. He came to save it.


The purpose of law is love. (The Bible)


Try to rule others,
You fail. Love other people?
You will never lose.


It does not matter
If they wash away the spatter
There’s blood on their hands
And we watch from the stands
As Congress is getting fatter

Dark Cave Haikus

Hatred without cause
Is not protected under
The Constitution


There is no such thing
As passive hate. Apathy
Has no cause to act.


Love cannot exist
Where light does not reach in us
Rescued from the cave


Hope can be rescued
From deep inside this dark well
Love is the strong rope


Where a life is found
Brave beats furious to save
Scraps of decency


Rains may flood and drown
But humans will still reach through
The dark clouds for sun


Swim through this mountain
Dive deep for love, buoy life
Brave this river, Boy


Wipe my tears and cuts.
Dry my hands and feet. Set firm
Life upon this rock.


I wait in the dark
For splashes from brave heroes
I will not despair


Can I be found deep?
I will wait for news and sleep.
Hope is what I keep.


Deep earth womb of rock
Traumatic birth of thirteen
Life will rise through pain

Take Me Home

I still like this one. I wrote it for my dad.

Craftie Beaver

I swing my legs from the swaying dock
Forgotten every one of my dwindling flock

I lay in fields of golden, wet, honey wheat
Drink down dew from low, golden clouds I meet

I run in those hidden dark, green trees
Places I learned to be what I please

Ravines littered with softly-fallen sins
Redeemed by desire, baptized by might-have-beens

Hay dangles through cracks and creaky joists
I break pains and panes with the ghosts of your voice

Pains of the past
Panes of glass

I fly kites with the ribs of those rotting, white windows
Catch hope with faith and sinewy minnows

Display truth and let it cool on open-sashed sills
Smoke the winnows and billows of dogged wills

Clear to the rafters of this old barn
And to the ragged fence posts on Used-to-be Farm
I love you.

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A Fatter Martha Would Have Died

I was running all over the stage during rehearsal one day and after we came home, I told my family, “A fatter Martha would have died doing all that I did today.” LOL

So. You may not believe that I was 513 lbs. I have proof.

A fatter Martha would have died.JPG

This was 2010.

My daughter had just turned 7 and we were in her first drama at our old church. One of her first acting experiences.

We’re in a show together now, too. Grapes of Wrath. I’m so proud of her. She’s still adorable!

I look at this picture and I can’t believe how big I was. My husband stayed with me through thick and thin. Mostly thick. He loved me. Told me how beautiful I was. Desired me. Even at 513.

He is my hero. The love of my life. I will never forget his loyalty. Most men would have crumbled. Ran away. Divorced me.

I want to honor you all my days, Guy. You deserve so much. You stuck by my side through illness, super morbid obesity, disease, cancer, PTSD, everything. We may have wavered a few times, but we’re still standing. I’m so lucky to have you by my side.

I never thought happy-ever-after was possible. Turns out, my first serious boyfriend would be my everlasting lover, husband, best friend, champion, hero, advocate, care giver. You’re a dream. A beautiful foggy dream of hope, love and laughter. Thank you for holding my hand through the worst years of my life and loving me back to health. I don’t deserve you or such happiness. I’m so thankful for you.


I am 257.0 right now! Progress. 🙂

Dinner

Harms from self-reflection
Are immune to charms of self-protection.
Stalled on a sticky web of tangled thoughts
Tenderness trapped like flailing, flapping flies
Wrapped and stranded
On silk and surrendered sighs
Dripping like honey dewdrops
Dotting my dusty desk at dusk
I regret
All
And yet
I feast and toast this bitter roast of memory.