Friday, August 27, 2010

if you can't write about anything, write about something.

her hair falls in tight, blonde ringlets around her shoulders, resting on the thick, blue straps of her new denim jumper.
a few strands brush her cheeks, which glow a gentle pink in the sun.
the light caresses each curl, hilighting the curve of one side and casting the other into shadow.
she tosses her head, and the shadows dance.


i drove past your house at nine-thirty today.
the sun was shining, and the basketball hoop that's usually in your driveway didn't seem to be there anymore.
(that is not a metaphor.)
i really did drive past your house at nine-thirty today. funny, i didn't feel anything.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

sometimes i have days when i don't want to write poetry

a day without poetry
like months without rain
it's deadness and blankness
it's life without pain
it's love without feeling
it's calm in the the storm
my muse won't come out...

and i miss her.

i search through my insides
for something that's sad
to get my muse crying
or make her real mad
but right now there's nothing
no sadness or spite
my muse won't come out...

and i miss her.

i should be more thankful -
the trials that make
my muse get all huffy
are real hard to take
but sitting in silence
is difficult too
my muse won't come out...

and i miss her.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Monday, August 23, 2010

Ron and Don, I love you. :)

back in the grind

i have decided that, sometimes, doing my devotions is like brushing my teeth.
it's something i'm supposed to do every single day, but sometimes it feels like if i skip just one it won't be a big deal.
but see, devotions is like brushing your teeth. because if you don't do it - even for just one day - you'll feel all yucky.

(too bad reading your Bible doesn't help with bad breath.)

Sunday, August 8, 2010


i used to hate the word "probs"
now i say it all the time
i used to hate the word "legit"
now i say it all the time
i used to hate the word "$@*!"
now i think it all the time

i don't care about the grammar
but Jesus, won't you change my heart?


nicole told me to write a post. she said it's been a while.
i know she's right. i should just write.
but i can't.
you see, to me, to write is not just paper, words, and blogs.
it's pain. and joy. and love. and fear.
i feel my heart's been squished and pulled and almost torn apart.
i don't know who i am today, and writing's who i am.


once i know which thoughts to think, which feels to feel, which God to trust;
once i know which loves to love, which time to take, which life to live;
once i know which truth is true -
i know You're there, Lord, save my soul -
maybe i can write again.

(please, God, let me write again...)
when you cry yourself to sleep at night
when you drown in a tear-stained pillow
i'd say you're not as a-okay
as you said you were this morning