Truth in the Face of Loss

Upon the loss of a wonderful friend. Sometimes the knowing doesn't help the hurt.

This pew uncomfortable is,

however cushioned it may be.

The plan, unknowable, all His;

Slight solace to a heart heavy.

Conflicted so, the spirit cries,

bruised by mortal tragedy;

Pained queries hurled at Paradise -

returned to sender, quietly.

There is no ease in this release.

Cruel misery finds some relief

Knowing that her hurt has ceased.

Yet, bound we still by racking grief.

How do I sing to thee, O Lord,

of your greatness, through this pain?

This suffering seems no reward

to those still tethered to this plane.

Love left behind surrounding us,

Questions from the heart at hand…

Unanswered. Told it must be thus -

His Will we cannot understand.

Inconvenient. Be it so,

A truth we must humbly abide;

To live - to deal with all life’s woe.

To die – in Heaven’s grace reside.

And this, a chance to celebrate

Daughter, wife, and mother; His.

But even in her reborn state…

This pew uncomfortable is.

© Jeff Wilson, 2013

And...

I have games to play

and dragons to slay

and friends to make

and rules to break

and lessons to learn

and respect to earn

and a penchant for tomorrow.

I have chances to take

and giants to wake

and bills to pay

and truths to weigh

and calories to burn

and corners to turn

and a smile for every sorrow.

I have children to teach

and castles to breach

and flavors to marry

and secrets to bury

and tests to fail

and fences to scale

and a story of flesh and bone

I have mirrors to face

and monsters to chase

and poems to write

and doubts to smite

and choices to choose

and nothing to lose

and a journey to call my own

© Jeff Wilson, 2013

Working Title

Two more octaves about revision stemming from something completely other...

Tempered ink of first draft written
Has us anything but smitten
Dictionary and thesaurus
Scheme to underwhelm ‘n’ bore us
Hand besieged by manic pen
Yet, Truth demands we start again
Only thoughtful alteration
Can improve nascent creation

Foregone made is this decision
That we take up said revision
Strive to make each poor word better
Pay attention to the letter
Of the law that writers follow -
Misery in which we wallow –
Even when we think we’re done
A writer’s job has just begun

© Jeff Wilson, 2013 

Frost Inspired Revision-ary

I am trying to model a new assignment to use "Nothing Gold Can Stay" as the inspiration for an original poem. Students are to explore one of the themes we've discussed from The Outsiders with the poem's structure and rhyme scheme as their guide.

As it turns out, the assignment may end up being a lesson in revision. The first eight lines are the original "rough" draft. I abandoned it and came up with another eight lines that "sound" better to my ear. I'm looking forward to seeing how this lesson plays out over the next week.

Nothing Originally Written Can Stay

Full of naïve youth
We quest for thorough truth
But growing up so fast
Aside the search is cast
‘Til lifetime thence we learn
Truth we cannot spurn
And in our waning age
We earn Truth’s honest wage

Searching for direction
Seeking the right connection
To prove, somehow, our worth
For time spent on this earth
Our quest is incomplete
Until the One we meet
And even then won’t start
‘til we know and share our heart

© Jeff Wilson, 2013

The Strength It Takes

-->

For my friends, The Ilardos, whose light beats back the shadows...

To bear the cross

Of mortal fears;

To know a wish

Cannot change Will;

To show gratitude

Despite the tears;

To remain in motion

When all else is still.

To plow forward

Through perilous doubt;

To forge solid steel

Of a broken heart;

To dive straight in

When instinct cries, “Out!”

To live holy, wholly,

When life tears you apart.

To give of yourself

When nothing’s left to give -

To sense when that

Is all that is needed;

To beat back Death

In order to live;

To grow in defeat

And not be defeated.

To play your cards,

Even those poorly dealt;

Not lamenting losses,

but counting your blessings;

With the love of your God

And for each other heartfelt;

Your strength inspires…

Thanks for the lessons.

© Jeff Wilson, 2012

Helping Hand

Written to model an assignment: Write a poem based on the elements of horror as discussed in class using the unit's vocabulary. Boo-yah.

Marvin was an affable lad, a kind and friendly soul,

But quirky in a palpable way, not just a little droll.

When asked one day to lend a hand, he vehemently agreed;

Marvin was profoundly glad to help a friend in need.

A pragmatic plan ascended from his reason’s deepest trough;

He hoisted up his sharpest ax and cut his poor hand off.

He zealously presented it, for it was none too hefty;

He never understood why they, thereafter, called him “Lefty”.

In Response to a Friend's Raps

Definitely impressed when you put your skills to the test. So blessed. Words from your head that well up from your chest. All heart from the start. A man apart. Like Good Will Hunting, my boy's wicked smart.

Providence, please. You spit lyrical with ease. Yours words buzzing and swarming my mind like bees. All honey, no impurities. Keep rhyming for real until everyone agrees. You're no fad, hotter than 98 Degrees. A vision and a plan for all societies.