Entry 4: ‘My Home and Its Makers’

This was written on 3/15/2012.

My House was of stone — like that of a fort,

It triumphed over all that beheld its sight.

It never deprived a soul of resort.

It stayed humble, despite all of its might.

It received its power from its makers,

Through every nail, board, beam, and thatch,

Of soul poured — like bread from the baker,

Where every masterpiece is made from scratch.

But what went unknown from my blind eyes

Was the work it took to make my sun and moon rise,

To brush the blues and grays into my skies —

And it was these drains that were the Makers demise.

So the fort the makers forged by hand,

Made stone from their mortal lives of sand.

Entry 3. ‘Tawe’s Fountain in Spring’

Wrote this on 3/12/2012, sitting around campus.  It’s hard to connect with all the people you would like to.

In space, you are so near,
Yet in mind, you couldn’t be more far.
Your voice wanders in ear,
Yet your words cannot escape the jar
Whose walls are so crystal clear,
Yet whose lid is tightly sealed with tar.
And then you leave, I fear
Then replaced by one with beauty on par.

I sit here on such a pristine March day,
In the openness of a field of enclosures,
Forced to see all of the beauty around.
Allowed to look upon, but never say —
In a world of wishes without exposures;
In a world of hoping for a chance —
without ever making a sound.

http://voices.yahoo.com/tawes-fountain-spring-11305334.html?cat=2

Entry 2. ‘Origins’

Wrote this a couple of weeks ago, and wasn’t sure if it was ready to be deemed as finished.  For now, I think it is.

The Earth is woken by the Sun,
My mind is woken by the Earth.
A man is woken by his purpose,
My purpose is yet to be of worth.

I wonder if when Jupiter passes Saturn,
They both stop and wonder why,
If they could only stop from passing,
They could be more than passer-bys.

Like my Parents at a time were,
Before they were a Man and a Wife.
They were, too, some strangers,
And then their Love gave me Life.

The forces that had stood between them,
Were that of armies and their sword.
And though battles are won with weapons,
Stranger’s hearts are won with words.

http://voices.yahoo.com/origins-11305282.html?cat=2