love.lulu

even though i’ve found myself unable to pick up a pen a write a poem or two, i’ve wanted to desperately.

well, thanks to technology, i can — sort of. i found one i had saved a while ago.

body bags
at the burning
Motel watch
as Fire
licks the pavement

unduly spoken,
destroy.

Thank you Lord, for poetry. my outlet.

to my Grandmother, whom I miss dearly

Tell her that I’m blue and lonely, dreamy Carolina moon

A phone call last week
Produced from you a memory–
A sweet melody from you mother,
From Dean Martin.

Carolina moon keep shining, shining on the one who waits for me

I sang to you, in the shower
On February 12, 2007.
Outside the sparrows called
For a reunion across four state lines.

Carolina moon I’m pining, pining for the place I long to be

I dreamt of a funeral I visited
Last month.
So close, so cold like I could
Touch her face. A clean canvas

How I’m hoping tonight you go, go to the right window

Stands in my bedroom
Corner, deprived. The phone sits
Wanting.

Scatter your light, say I’m alright please, please do

O my dear one, I fear
This final thread of sanity will
Slice itself, upon hearing tones
Across phone lines of your joyful voice

Masking a tearful shake.

Tell her that I’m blue and oh so lonely
Dreamy Carolina moon

Yesterday morning on my way to work, I listened to this Sufjan Stevens song on repeat for a bit and thoroughly enjoyed it:

Thinking outrageously I write in cursive
I hide in my bed with the lights on the floor
Wearing three layers of coats and leg warmers
I see my own breath on the face of the door

I can’t explain the state that I’m in
The state of my heart, he was my best friend
Into the car, from the back seat
Oh admiration in falling asleep
All of my powers, day after day
I can tell you, we swaggered and swayed
Deep in the tower, the prairies below
I can tell you, the telling gets old
Terrible sting and terrible storm
I can tell you the day we were born
My friend is gone, he ran away
I can tell you, I love him each day
Though we have sparred, wrestled and raged
I can tell you I love him each day
Terrible sting and terrible storm
I can tell you…

That evening, a bee flew up my leg and stung me four times.

This morning, as I drove down the road, guess what song came on?

So…I rolled down the window, put it on repeat, and smiled…

My Grandfather was a man who died too soon, yet not soon enough.

I talked to you
As I walked through
The yellowed field
To the graveyard.

You spoke to me
On the stale breeze
Then watched me leave—
Back to my car.

Ten long years past
The times you thrashed
In pain–I can
Still hear your cries.

It wasn’t fair
you died. I, scared,
Avoided stares
From your dim eyes.

Your daffodils
Bloom in March still,
Despite the chill
Of early spring

At home, New Jersey,
Under a tree
They speak to me.

They wish you didn’t leave.

this is my last week of higher education.

ever.

because, i figured that even if i die, i won’t half to do this again…

that is a crazy thought. [the doneness, not the dying.]

on a lighter note, for those of you who don’t know…i got a job. a job that accurately reflects my major, that is full-time, and that lets me write allll day long.

basically, i am stoked.

praise God. He is faithful. even when i’m not.

xoxo

yes, another quote of Flannery’s. I couldn’t resist.

well, it has been quite a while. after all the writing i’ve been doing thus far in the semester, i fear i have nothing very interesting to relate to you all.

so, i’ll give you a brief synopsis of what i’ve learned so far this final semester:

one…here are many styles of the same style of stylistic writing…oh my.
two…i should be completely prepared to explain, in depth, the concept of the trinity to non-believers, namely muslims.
three…i love to write.
four…i love poetry.
five…being in a poetically dry spell while you’re in a poetry class is quite taxing, frustrating, and humbling.
six…it is confusing to repeatedly switch from literary grammar to journalistic grammar, and back, multiple times in a day.
seven…it is a hard balance to remain firm in your convictions and gentle and loving at the same time.
eight…”conviction without experience makes for harshness.” thanks again, flannery.
nine…i am utterly prideful.
and,
ten…global warming is a cult.

O college, how i’ll miss thee.

“the truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it.”
–mary flannery o’connor

and she had no idea what was coming. well, not entirely anyway.

***

and, she said this:

“there’s a many a bestseller that could have been prevented by a good teacher.”

two words. nicholas sparks. (i use him as a representation of the comprehensive list, for i simply don’t have the time…)

o flannery, you are missed.

“I Celebrate The Day”

And with this Christmas wish is missed
The point I could convey
If only I could find the words to say to let You know how much You’ve touched my life
Because here is where You’re finding me, in the exact same place as New Year’s eve
And from a lack of my persistency
We’re less than half as close as I want to be

And the first time
That You opened Your eyes did You realize that You would be my Savior
And the first breath that left Your lips
Did You know that it would change this world forever

And so this Christmas I’ll compare the things I felt in prior years
To what this midnight made so clear
That You have come to meet me here

To look back and think that
This baby would one day save me
In the hope that what You did
That you were born so I might live
To look back and think that
This baby would one day save me

And I, I celebrate the day
That You were born to die
So I could one day pray for You to save my life

—Relient k

…i love this song. if only i could have this perspective all christmas season.

besides us realizing that we are blessed with probably some of the best brothers ever…this basically sums up the night.

thanks guys. it was a blast.