The Healing

Its time to wrap the burns,

To get up off your knees,

And then demand the terms

Of freedom, of release

So start the car and drive

And clear the wheezing cough

To make it out alive,

Break all the mirrors off

Since hurt won't hold you now

I know some hands that will

The cost: a sober vow

the payment: ceaseless fill

The Poet and The Painter

Dear Poet,

Write Your words
Upon my heart
Like canvass
Noun and verb
This sacred art
My hands, I think
Could be Your ink

Dear Painter,
Paint my mind
One solid hue
Like poems
Each brush stroke
A hint of You
My pride must hush
To be Your brush

And Your poetry
Is Your grace in me...
My death, Your potpourri

Saturday Poet Feature

My featured poet for today is Archibald Macleish.

This man just flat out knows how to put words together. I've been reading a bunch of his stuff lately and each poem seems to have its own subtle word trend that is just aimed at sounding awesome. Here's one of his more famous poems, but honestly, if you look this guy up you will find a lot more good stuff like this.

Ars Poetica
by Archibald MacLeish
A poem should be palpable and mute As a globed fruit, Dumb As old medallions to the thumb, Silent as the sleeve-worn stone Of casement ledges where the moss has grown— A poem should be wordless As the flight of birds. * A poem should be motionless in time As the moon climbs, Leaving, as the moon releases Twig by twig the night-entangled trees, Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves, Memory by memory the mind— A poem should be motionless in time As the moon climbs. * A poem should be equal to: Not true. For all the history of grief An empty doorway and a maple leaf. For love The leaning grasses and two lights above the sea— A poem should not mean But be.

Skin and Bones - an acoustic song

This drink, the glass is full to me
The state to be
To think that brokenness is less
I’m fine, I guess

As world reflections make a pair, the
Son of man is his own era
Everything is bound by what it owns

I’ll kick my shoes off and with
Purpose dive and paddle in
To breathe Your will like oxygen
I hear the world, it has no song to sing
So from it, I don’t need a thing

I fight the fear to turn and
Run away from all I know
And never turn a cheek
My will so weak
The way I went abandonment
Would be a simple task
The echo masked

As world reflections make a pair, the
Son of man is his own era
Everything is bound by what it owns

I’ll kick my shoes off and with
Purpose dive and paddle in
To breathe Your will like oxygen
I hear the world, it has no song to sing

So from it, I don’t need a…

Thing to decorate this skin and bones
I’m quenched, communion fills alone
I’ll stick to the breath I received when I came into the world

As world reflections make a pair, the
Son of man is his own era
Everything is bound by what it owns
So I’ll just live with skin and bones

Saturday Feature

So from now on, I’m going to use Saturdays to feature a poet or songwriter whom I admire for his or her use of language and meaning. Today’s feature is John Mark Mcmillan.

He is a singer/songwriter from North Carolina. You’ve probably heard a rendition or two of one of his more popular songs, “How He Loves” but this guy is a wealth of poetic worship. I love his stuff. Here are the lyrics to his song “Skeleton Bones.”

Peel back our ribs again
and stand inside of our chest.
We just wanna' love you
We just wanna' love you

Peel back the veil of time
And let us see You with our naked eyes
We just wanna' love you
We just wanna' love you

We want your blood to flow inside our body
We want your wind inside our lungs
We just wanna' love you
We just wanna' love you

Skeleton bones stand at the sound of eternity
On the lips of the found
And gravestones roll
To the rhythm of the sound of you
Skeleton bones stand at the sound of eternity
On the lips of the found
So separate those doors
And let the son of resurrection in.

Oh let us adore the
Son of Glory drenched in love
Open up your gates before him
Crown Him, stand Him up

{hear the song here}

The Final Breath

{here's one from the archives. I wrote this poem a little over a year ago. It touches on the end as a new beginning, the true beginning and is hopefully just a graceful view of how our departure from earth will feel less like a departure, more like an arrival. The rhyming scheme laces together the 1st and 3rd line of each stanza with the 2nd line of the following stanza. um yeah, that took me a while. (:}

This is the end of me
my final breath
new life to be

The new life stills my lungs
it's ecstasy
it's old to younge

I'm hearing voices of
unspoken tounges
that speak in love

The dancing will begin
we'll dance above
forgiven sin

This is the start for me
with servant grin
new life to be

I Dreamed a Future War - a poem

{just to clarify, this is not an anti-war poem, it's an anti-hate poem. i think there is a bit of difference between the two. Not all wars are hateful and not all hate results in war. however, if a war is grounded in hate and anger instead of defending something good, I see weakness in that. That's what this poem is about.}

I dreamed a future war

And neither side was right

So what's the reason for?

Each party rests in pride

And wakes in fev'rish sweats

As peace gets pushed aside

So these two sides of hate

The scream to be heard first

And they're not going to wait

The rage begins to burn

The guns aim past the lines

While guns aim back in turn

The truth gets spun around

Its dizzy when it trips

Its trampled on the ground

With war, some claim to win

I'd say they just lost less

The victor's pain

Still leaves a stain

And leads to emptiness