The Puddle

There, I went and did it without even realizing it.
I forgot myself again.
I got so bogged down with all the stuff of life,
My thoughts swirled in meaningless, overlapping circles.
Words flying this way and that in some
Mixed jumble of complete and utter nonsense
Until I sat down, let loose the wildness inside,
And set my pen free without agenda.
No trying to make something happen…
No forcing myself into predetermined structure…
No frustrated, half-done slips of something…
Just me rambling around in a muddle,
Content to stir things into nothingness,
So I can finally, finally relax and let loose
With grinning drivel.
Somehow that helps more than all the exercises
I could ever put my mind through.
The mental picture is priceless, too.
Imagine me at five years old
Stamping in a puddle in the parking lot
Till all the water is splashed out and
The puddle is gone.
That’s me now, stamping around in my brain
Till all the cohesion scatters into little droplets and
The forced, frustrating bits of thought are gone!
Releasing it all relieves the burden.
I do not have to do anything but sit, stare,
Type idiocy and see where it takes me.

Promises

TO DIE IS GAIN

On this tough path, you want to run
Against the flow, O foolish one.
But what you think you want, you know
Leads only through a rougher road.
For willful longing brings much pain.
(To live is Christ, to die is gain.)
So let this go and lay it down.
Take up the cross, and turn around.
It’s time to listen to His voice,
To die to self, to live His choice.
Although this way leads through the fire,
God can change your heart’s desire,
Conform you to the image of
His One and Only Son of Love.

LOVE

POEM

Posit an idea
Throw out a thought
Turn it about
Toss it up
Let the light hit it every which way
Watch it
Catch it
Smell it
Push it away
Pull it close
Embrace it, eyes closed
Massage it
Spread it out
Fill it in
Color it one shade
Change it to another
Tear it apart
Shove it together
Put it in order
Bind it into form
Hold it aloft
Examine it critically
Accept it
Offer it to someone else
Let it go
No ποιημα (“workmanship”) is complete
Until it is given away