Christinae Carmina

Untitled

2008-05-29T11:56:00.000-07:00

Written October 2005

Said the leaf to the tree, "Must I turn this year?
I like being green
I like it right here."

Said the tree to the leaf, "I'm afraid that you must.
After all you were made
To turn colors of rust."

And then the tree said, "But I do understand.
I dislike being stripped
Of my many leaf-hands.

"I dislike being bared to the forces of harm
To the ice that will weigh down
And crack my strong arms."

"Then why do you let go?" the leaf asked the tree.
"Why don't you hold on
To leaf-hands like me?"

"I must learn to relinquish my outer facade
To be moulded and renewed
And strengthened by God."

"Okay," said the leaf with an insecure sigh.
"I'll try to let go
Oh, surely I'll try."

And so the leaf turned a bright, beautiful gold,
And fell to the ground
As the harsh wind blew cold.

The leaf that surrendered the things it held dear
Then nourished the soil
For beauty the next year.

A Spark

2008-05-09T19:52:00.000-07:00

Written sometime in March '08 while in Western Classics class

A spark.
One.
One spark against the blanket night.
One spark on trampled grass.
One spark.

It glows, this spark,
Yet I tarry.
Do I need fire?
Or am I content
This cool spring eve
With my own jacket?

A fire.
A fire warms.
It blazes and rages.
It lights a view now hidden in dark.
It consumes and must be fed,
This fire.

My coat, though,
Is soft.
It holds out cold.
It holds me well.
Its arms on mine,
This coat.

Where to from here?
The spark flickers.
It dims.
Do I fan it?
Or let it burn out?
Perhaps a third:
Let us see whether the wind blows.

2008-05-01T19:59:00.000-07:00

Unfinished. Written 5/1/08.

O sweet Lord, that You would call me dear.
O dear Lord, that You would call me sweet!
Who shall stand in the Lord's holy presence?
He who has clean hands and a pure heart.
O precious Lord, wash my bloodstained hands!
Capture my wandering heart.
Make it as a twin to Your own.
Lift up your head, O gate of my soul;
Be lifted up, O door of my heart;
May the King of Glory enter here!
May all else fall away.
Though my mind may fail and my sight grow dim
The Lord God of hosts,
The Lord, strong and mighty,
The Lord, King of Glory,
He is my strength and my portion forever.
He has heard my cry, therefore I will hope in Him.
My soul will yet praise Him, my savior and my God.
Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Amen.

All To You

2007-11-18T19:44:00.000-08:00

Written 6/24/07, a hymn of sorts, written very haphazardly

In the morning bright and clear
Meet me with Your presence here
Any my heart will echo true
All to You, Lord, all to You!

In the evening, stars above
Fill me with Your perfect love
Surround by your angels who
Sing all to You, Lord, all to You.

On the day of my success
When the crowd my name would bless
To whom is this great glory due?
All to You, Lord, all to You.

In my weakest moment still
When I fail to do Your will
Heal my broken heart anew
It's all for You, Lord, all for You.

When care and worry fill my heart
And from Your will my own would part
Break me 'til I sing anew
All to You, Lord, all to You.

When temptation turns my head
May I remember Him who bled
And followed only after You
Saying All to You, Lord, all to You.

When I fin'lly see Your face
Held forever by Your grace
Heaven. earth, and angels too
Will song all to You, Lord, all to You

Statement of Faith

2007-05-17T20:42:00.000-07:00

A sort-of poem, written 1/31/07

I believe in a loving and powerful God, our Father and Creator, from whom we have been separated by our sinful nature.
I believe in Jesus, His Son, who died as an atonement for our sins and rose again to conquer death and reconcile us with the Father.
I believe in the Holy Spirit, sent to dwell in us, who guides and teaches, transforming us from children of sin into Children of God, until the time that we are called from this earth, whether by Christ's return, or by our physical death.
I believe that we who have been reconciled with God through the blood of Christ will spend eternity in Heaven, never again to be separated from Him.

2007-05-17T20:38:00.000-07:00

Written 1/28/07

A little white
A little bright
Against the blackest
Dark of night

A little show
A little snow
How long before
The flakes must go?

Misconception

2007-04-27T08:38:00.000-07:00

Written 4/27/07, unfinished

She sees it through looking glass.
Reflections only.
Looking back
At distortions of bending light.

She sees it through looking:
Glass reflections.
Only looking back at distortions
Of bending light.

She sees it through--
Looking glass reflections only
Looking back at distortions
Of bending light.

She sees it: through-looking glass.
Reflections.
Only looking back at distortions of bending.
Light!

Proverbs 13:12

2007-04-21T09:54:00.000-07:00

Written 4/21/07

A wish
Like trees for rain
Like seed for spring

A hope
Like billowing clouds
Like fragile sprout

A taste
Like sprinkling drops
Like budding rose

A passing
LIke scorching sun... again
LIke April frost

A promise
Like storm-scented wind
Like earth-warming rays
Like heaven-sent peace

Boxes

2006-06-11T08:58:00.000-07:00

We live in boxes.
Boxed in rooms
Boxes on wheels,
Office boxes
Soul boxes.

Walled off from others
Cubed inside the building
Blocks of society
Towering high above
Town squares.

Our balance is off.
We twist and bent in
Fluid wind.
The fall will break our
Live-in boxes.

Untitled

2006-03-04T18:39:00.000-08:00

Written 2/26/06

Friendship
Fragile as flower
Fragrant
Yet fading fast

A comrade
Once close and comforting
The comraderie
Now coming to a close

Time passes; people change
As the seasons
Always turning new to old,
Old to new

When one flower wilts
It nourishes the roots
Of a new bloom

Patience brings about a greater garden
Than clawing at the dust of what is past.

A poetical masterpiece by Christy and Heather

2005-11-29T19:52:00.000-08:00

Written 1/3/05

My cat walks on the treadmill
That hovers above a landfill
If she doesn't go fast enough, she'll spill
And the trash will make her very ill
And what is that, a brand new drill?
It must've fallen off of my wondow sill
And hey, there's my expensive grill
Those men took it because I couldn't pay my bill
So I got a job at a cotton mill
And I work there even still
Now my cat can eat her fill
Of all the mice that she can kill
She hunts them of her own free will
She likes sweet pickles, and especially dill
She buys them from a peasant in Honeyville
In return, the earth she must till
Every night she scribbles with her quill
In the words of Tom Hanks, "She's a pill"
One winter day she caught a chill
So her roommate, whose name was Jill
Gave her a fish with only one gill
That she found near an ant hill
And decided to give him the name Phil
He cared for her with unmatched skill
Even more than her ex-boyfriend Bill
Dear fishy took her to Brazil
And stole all her money, so then she had nil
A whale saved her and fed her krill
Then said goodbye in a voice that was shrill
Poor kitty nearly drowned in a rill
Her rescuer gave her quite a thrill
And then she woke up

And her alarm clock played Barber of Seville
And the cat went to McDonalds and got a McGrill
And then Heather went to bed

Farewill.

Empty

2005-11-29T19:48:00.000-08:00

Written 10/24/05

I am an empty shell
Who I am is not who is seen
I wear an empty mask
To make you think I am clean

I am not alone
I watch them pass
The many empty shells
Empty souls hidden behind an empty laugh

I hear their words
Echoes of their empty hearts
Despair is in their empty eyes
None can see, but in part

Can I fill their emptiness?
Nay, I cannot fill my own
I longingly await the day
When all will be content- and Home!

Untitled Villanelle

2005-11-27T20:12:00.000-08:00

Started March '05, continued 11/27/05 (unfinished) (Yes, I stole the first line. Please forgive me. It was a good line.)

Sometimes there are no words to say
All language fades the passion of the fight
And speech's colors fade to shades of gray.

When I, upon my pillow, try to pray
Winds whisper through the leaves in darkest night,
"Sometimes there are no words to say."

When I take pleasure in the ocean's spray,
The sunrise plays on breakers' foamy white
And speech's colors fade to shades of gray.

My pen produces nothing but cliches.
My muses murmur as they view my plight,
"Sometimes there are no words to say."

The artists' palette comes from God's bouquet
Their brushes strike the truth of dappled light
And speech's colors fade to shades of gray.

My tongue cannot my spirits thoughts convey
Nor can it human hearts for long delight.
Sometimes there are no words to say
And speech's colors fade to shades of gray.

The Secret Life of Leaves

2005-11-27T19:35:00.000-08:00

Written 11/27/05 for Literary Analysis. Inspired by Wallace Stevens's "Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird"

I
A green hand
Waving cheerfully
In bright, sparkling light

II
A house for an inchworm
A home for a spider
A roof for a bird

III
One individual
Lost
In a sea of conformity

IV
Leaves of rain
A reign of leaves
A rain of leaves
Remains

V
Fluttering color outside
A frosted window:
Nature's stained glass

VI
Green
to Red
to Orange
to Yellow
to Brown
to Dust

VII
Hanging limply, lifelessly
The last leaf
Refusing release

VIII
Must let go
Must surrender
Most start over

IX
Sometimes being means
For a time
Being absent

X
A speck of life
Wrapped in nothingness
Reaching out

XI
In one brief year
The leaf shows the life
Of all creatures

XII
A member of God's audience
That cannot speak
But when the wind of grace blows
It applauds

A Violin's Plea

2005-11-27T15:23:00.000-08:00

Written 11/12/05

I heard the whisper early one morning; and again,
softly,
that night, from the case in the corner.

"“Remember when you really played?
When your eyes read
more than notes and your fingers
pressed more than strings and your hand
pulled more than a bow?"

"“Yes, I remember."

"“So do I.
You played more than music. It was
passion and grace,
you'’re audible heart."

"“But I still play,"” I said.
"“Every day,
nearly.
I still play."

"“That book you hold; yes, the blank one-
there.
It stole you from me. What you used to say
through me, you say in there, with
empty, insufficient, words.
Why?"”

"“I-"

"“You are frustrated. Your words,
long and lavish, pretentiously preposterous,
are a false echo of my song: too silent to express
your soul. Don'’t
forget me.

I am here so that you
may make music of emotion
when words of feeling fail."

Pencil

2005-11-27T15:17:00.000-08:00

Written 11/11/04

Yesterday I set my pencil runnin'
And it ran without the least reguard to me
It traveled high snd low, north and south, east and west
And some places were a pencil ought not be.
It started in my bedroom looking honest
And moseyed out along the busy street
Then somehow I was dragged along with it
Across the country to the open sea.
Before I knew it I was nearly drowning
And so I drew it back to my own home
That day I learned a valuable lesson:
One should not simply let a pencil roam.
So next time that I set my pencil runnin'
To see what new ideas it will show
I ought to have at least a vague idea
Of where I think my pencil ought to go.

Untitled

2005-11-27T15:14:00.000-08:00

Written 4/05 (after reading several particularly depressing poems for school)

Poor tragic poet
So wrapped up in death
That when his life walked out the door
He never knew it left.

The Woes of a Rock

2005-11-27T15:11:00.000-08:00

Started 11/4/04 (unfinished)

Each morning I feel warm rays touch my cold form
And I am jealous of the sun, for he brings life to the earth.

Each night I watch constellations roam across the sky,
And I am jealous of the stars, for they give purpose to the night.

Each day I hear the scamper of rodents gathering food,
And I am jealous, for I must remain still.

Each season passes by bringing change,
But I remain the same.

Impatience

2005-11-21T19:57:00.000-08:00

Another exercise (and many thanks to Henry for making this format work): 11/16/05

The waiting... The wanting... The wondering...	The waking... The wishing... The wandering...	The watching... The weaving... The weighing...
Weariness... Weakness... Wholeness...	When?	The willing The wilderness Withstanding...
Working... Wording... Wrestling...	walking... waning... warming...	wearing... washing... wasting...

A Lie

2005-11-21T19:53:00.000-08:00

11/15/05

My microwave is broken
But that's okay.
Cold soup is not
that bad.

A Truth

2005-11-21T19:51:00.000-08:00

11/15/05

I am cutting the noodles
in my soup because
they are too big
and won't
stay on my spoon.

Rain Chain

2005-11-21T19:42:00.000-08:00

Exercise from 11/15/05

leaving of rain
leavings of reign
leaves of rain
leaves of reign
love of remains
loving remains
love remains
learning of rain
leaning of rain
learning of names
leafing of rain
leaving a name
leave returning
love returning
love redeems
loving redeemer

rain reigns
reign rains
raise leaves
leaves raise
love reigns
reign leaves
leaves reign
weaving lanes
weaving leaves
waving leaves
leaving waves
leaning ways
learning ways
leaning waves
waning leaves
waning rain

rain of leaves
reign of leaves
reign of leavings
rain of leavings
remain of leaves
remains of leaving
rename a leaf
running of leaves
return of leaves
rain of love
remains of love
return of love
return of leaving
reign of leaning
reign of love
renaming love
redeeming love

Like a Tree

2005-11-21T07:45:00.000-08:00

Written Spring '05

Like a tree I must-
from time to time-
Be stripped of my outer facade
That my skeleton may be
exposed, clensed
And prepared to bloom again.

The Gift

2005-11-21T07:40:00.000-08:00

Written 10/14/05

You say, a Gift I give to you
It shines magnificent and new
Its mysteries you shall pursue
Until revealed

I take the object in my hand
I shake and tremble where I stand
But is it gold, or merely sand?
The heart's concealed

Within its darkness, light is found
And in ts silence, I hear sound
Thoughts both clever and profound
Are in its muse

It brings a smile to my face
But in my soul it takes the place
Of one more worthy of that space
And I must choose

So with a sigh I hand it back
And sorely feeling what I lack
I lumber slowly down the track
Of daily living

I know the Giver, fair and just,
Commends me for my act of trust
He will not let my treasure rust
Nor cease his giving.

Summer Storm

2005-11-21T07:22:00.000-08:00

Written in 8th grade

Is it just me?
Or did the flowers stand a little taller today
When thunder rumbled
And lightning flashed

Is it just me?
Or did the trees stretch a little higher today
When dark clouds rolled in
And heavy rain fell

Is it just me?
Or did the bushes look a little fuller today
When birds took cover
And squirrels ran to hide

Then I understood
While on a clear day
The sun shows off their beauty
It is the storm that makes them strong

Writing

2005-11-21T07:17:00.000-08:00

Written in 7th grade

I've been given the world
As a paper and pen
My imagination grows
My mind knows no ends

I can travel the earth
Without leaving my desk
I can choose not to lead
And follow where I'm led

I can live in a world
That only I know
From my mind through my pen
My thoughts, they flow

Through my characters' eyes
I see the world
I think their thoughts
As the plot unfurls

I hold in my hand
A powerful key
And no one knows about it
But me