3rd Quarter Poems

I pulled aside misconceptions
as a curtain of deceptions
And saw the light.
I took away temptation
like a blindfold from salvation
and found my sight.
I looked with great elation
at the grave of devastation
and I felt life.
And as an acclamation
turn from condemnation
for His delight.
And through this transformation
I see Your illustration
of abundant life.
And God I'm Your creation
we're called to celebration
with our new sight.







Second Poem- Retreat Paragraph Style Poem

Cattail hands reaching in the valley of death. Arms link; rope bridges to repentance. Sobs heave abandoning rhythm; Sounds like the book of life. Mighty thunder from above blinds us from the swamp beneath our feet, who wander here below. One too many shadows blink and flicker, there to trick, there to lie. In the valley of twisted truth, of every days' deceit, far beneath the heavens, I fear no evil. You walk with me through those who walk together for You.

This city now doth, like a garment......

"Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This city now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie
Open unto the fields and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. "
William Wordsworth

Tumblr

Tumblr is a website I use for another outlet of inspiration. Feel free to check mine out. I use it for more a of an accumulation of short quotes and meaningful photography. My blog on Tumblr is themed around urban life. The title is Someday in the City.

Enjoy!

http://somedaycity.tumblr.com/

Ideas and Notes, Input Appreciated

Okay so this is some notes i wrote about a Character macy that im creating under the premise I did in class: a girl who is under a lot of pressure, gives way to her OCD--- creepy, but i think i may really have something here.

so here are some first draft attempts and some notes. I was hoping some of this could be a group effort.

^_^

Macy ascended the stairs, the weight of her bags coaxing her backwards. She never seemed to notice that she was tired, weary as she was. Somewhere along the way routine numbed out exhaustion and was further curtained by the success that always followed her diligence. When she reached her room opened the door, entering her pristine hiding place. She closed the door very deliberately and let her bags slide of her shoulders by her desk. It was six thirty, and Macy had just got home from pre-season lacrosse. Sitting down at her piano, she began to play, as she did for an hour every night before starting homework. Back straight, fingers slightly curved, she began to play a piece by Handel, which she though rather boring, but she played anyway, for that was what she did every day at 6:30.

Perhaps she was right though, Macy was a girl of extreme talent. There isn’t a piece of classical piano music that she couldn’t master. She may have been beyond the classics.

***a few weeks later as the pressure builds

Macy’s collared uniform shirt was half tucked in; her skirt lay uneven on her waist. There were circles under her eyes and her usually tight bun drooped towards the nape of her neck. With a slight careen in her step Macy pulled open the door and closed it behind her; keeping her hand on the knob for a few seconds to reassure herself.

She pulled out the piano bench sat. Staring at the keys, it took a minute for her know what to play. A counterfeit smile curved upon her face as she reached for a music book that she had not opened for sometime.

Turning to Gaspard de la Nuit by Maurice Ravel, she began.

She seemed to draw the breath from the piano itself. Her fingers flew and leapt around C major, as if to entice. Her hands seemed to be one fantastic trick of the light. Slouched over the keys, Macy played in the night. Her fingers were no longer a part of her body, but a line of waltzing spiders attacking the ivory. Macy felt nothing.

Notes:

Starts playing Handel

Later in story plays Maurice ravel

Rooms gets cluttered

Dreams about door

Nightmare about college

advice would be appreciated!

Thrid Quater poem 2, retreat paragraph style poem

Cattail hands reaching in the valley of death. Arms link; rope bridges to repentance. Sobs heave abandoning rhythm; Sounds like the book of life. Mighty thunder from above blinds us from the swamp beneath our feet, who wander here below. One too many shadows blink and flicker, there to trick, there to lie. In the valley of twisted truth, of every days' deceit, far beneath the heavens, I fear no evil. You walk with me through those who walk together for You.