The Storm

The stillness oppresses

Crushing me like a stone.

Yet I remain, exultant

And at peace.

For I feel not the stillness,

Nor feel the crushing weight.

For I see the storm

And I hear the rolling thunder.

The falling rain drops strike my cheek

And caress my arms. 

The storm is beautiful to me.

Can You Feel?

Can you feel the maelstrom
Of your heart swirling?
As something far to strong,
Pulls you into a whirling,
Hurling, shatter mass,
Of timbers and wreckage.

Can you hear the hurt
Of your soul crying?
As you leave it in the dirt,
For a life so fulfilling.
Or so draining and painful,
You cannot decide.

How much will we give for power,
How far will we go for glory?
But another should have the power,
And He should have every glory,
But we shatter ourselves instead,
Searching for something we cannot find.

Can you feel the peace
That comes with joy?
There is such a release
That accompanies this joy.
For our strength is not ourselves,
But our Lord. We must follow Him.

My Sister is Crazy

My sister is crazy.

Have you heard the news?

My sister is not mentally right.

She does strange things,

Like knitting and quilting.

She likes weird things,

Like Amish fiction and cats.

My sister is crazy.

She tries to read my books.

When they’re not actually books yet.

My sister is crazy.

My sister is weird. 

Sometimes she might take over the world.

But she crochets instead,

Or plays with her Daleks.

My sister, let me tell you,

Is weird.

But I love her anyway,

Because who isn't weird?

And, after all, I do write poetry,

And you don't get much weirder than that.

My sister is crazy,

And that's why I love her.

School Problems

I am sad,
For a very good reason.
You see, though my school
Is currently all about poems,
They will not let me write one.
I do not understand
This mystery, for I have always
Done this before.
But they want me to write a paper.
Of all things to force me into,
They have made me write a paper.

Apples

Crunchy or mushy,
Sweet or tart.
Have your pick.
Bright reds,
Soft yellows,
Bold greens,
All here for the taking.
Larger than your fist,
Or barely larger than your palm.
Eat it all up,
Or leave behind a core,
Even a skin,
If you so will.

Spring

Birds are singing
Trees are blooming.
A touch of warmness
Lights the air.
April showers and May flowers
Grace the land.
"This is good,"
You say.
Yet you have not heard
The fullness of my tale.
For 'tis only February!
If you go by a calendar.

Kids

Children giggle,
Light feet patter.
Their hearts a-soar,
With the beauties
That only they can see.
Light made tangible,
In the beat of these little hearts.

Distracted plodding,
A heavy heart.
Bowed shoulders,
Heavy with a load unseen.
The soft sound of feet,
Cause the head to lift.
The lips part in a smile.

All the romance in the world,
Could not make her laugh like this.
Nothing could compare,
To the joy in her heart
As little arms wrap around her.
Small though they may be,
Reckless and messy,
Their hearts make mine soar.