Forty Plus Miles

           Recently I've been learning about different styles of poetry. The most recent is called a "Braided Poem". There is little information about this style (apparently it is pretty new), but it came from "Braided Essays". It's basically where three or more different events or stories are combined into one poem, and they tie together at the end, while joining the different parts (or "braids" ) together by a common response or sense (sight, hearing, touch, etc. ) Three below are my three attempts. The first was merely a practice while the other two were OFFICIAL attempts. The second is connected by sounds, and the third is connected by sight. Don't be afraid to try difficult things; you may just be surprised at what happens when you try. Attempt 1. Practice) Days Country roads winding for miles, some would just look while others gave smiles. Busy streets and neighborhoods, lots of people lots of goods. Fancy places many spaces, blending gra...

             Reaching, reaching further and he was almost there. There would be no limitations this time. One barrier, then two as walls came crashing down as new paths and worlds opened up before his very eyes. They were bright! They were beautiful! They were....muddy?! Suddenly reality broke into imagination as a mud patch hit his face on the crosswalk of a rainy day. A car passing by hit a puddle, and with it some mud, causing him to look down to see mud rainbows splashed across the ground. Here they stretched in arches that glowed ever softly from a mixture of a small patch of oil there, sparking his imagination and inspiration for something to paint again. Sidenote: If any of the writing on this blog has made a good impact on your life in someway (EVEN if it was something you may have enjoyed reading for a particular reason), please feel free to share this blog with someone else who could be blessed also. Thank you for your support!

          Most of my poetry is Non-Fiction. It's been VERY DIFFICULT for me to write anything other than that in such a genre. Recently, however, I have been discovering how to change this through writing prompts. The poems I wrote below are from one of the most recent poetry contest prompts. The prompt was to pic a random picture and explore someone's story....of someone you didn't know. The take away from this experience to encourage someone is this: be willing to improve your skills EVEN if you don't know how, perfect OR NOT; especially if it terrifies you. You never know how it will encourage both you AND those around you who witness it to grow as well.  Poem 1.) Forgetful   He'd forget, sometimes struggling to remember his name even; still he always remembered one thing.   He was forgetful often, until he heard old stories, ones from a distant time long past; he always had a keen mind for that.   Most didn't know this, until they talked ...

         In the cold I remember, remember to be wise. "Don't linger; focus! You can do this!", I tell myself. "It isn't long, just for a season; pray as you go.", so I do, reviewing these instructions, remembering to invite Jesus in, listen as He leads, and give grace in the struggles (mine and others), as I travel in the cold again. Sidenote: If any of the writing on this blog has made a good impact on your life in someway (EVEN if it was something you may have enjoyed reading for a particular reason), please feel free to share this blog with someone else who could be blessed also. Thank you for your support!

 Continuing carefully, On the lookout for a wise quick way, Learning again slow AND steady wins,  Determined to find blessing here. Sidenote: If any of the writing on this blog has made a good impact on your life in someway (EVEN if it was something you may have enjoyed reading for a particular reason), please feel free to share this blog with someone else who could be blessed also. Thank you for your support!

Starting one step, Learning to take two, On the way to restoration, When days have beat us up, Leveraging speed for quality, Yet remembering slowly intentionality. Sidenote: If any of the writing on this blog has made a good impact on your life in someway (EVEN if it was something you may have enjoyed reading for a particular reason), please feel free to share this blog with someone else who could be blessed also. Thank you for your support!

 Note About The Piece Below: This is about an encounter I had earlier in the year I believe. It was sitting in my notes on my phone waiting to be finished and it was a moment that gave me more perspective (which you'll see in the poem). After going through my notes, I finished editing what I had and did my best to complete it. I thought it worth sharing just because of the different responses of each dog and how they mirror our different responses to life at times. May this be a blessing to someone. Oscar, Cricket And The Other Two Oscar, Cricket and the other two,  three lives with which I don't know what to do.  Oscar, Cricket and the other two, the old man,  little lady,  and two wanderers there; ones that approached me lately. Whose stories I can't help but share.  Oscar, Cricket and the other two, stories I can't ignore, but don't know enough with what to do.  Thinking,  wondering,  why they stand out to me,  something that is not t...

          Note About This Piece: this was one of my more recent attempts at describing a real life humorous moment between my son and I; and doing so with a bit of a twist. Thought I'd share it to give someone a bit of a laugh today. Enjoy.          He’d stay that way for hours, this little man, resolute to do the impossible: the longest headstand. For the duration, unnoticed (especially at first), until he wouldn’t quit. We’d play, and he’d work, work at not losing his record.           Time would go on, and still he’d hold on, keeping his upside down pose rigid as he was. We’d play some more, my son and I, and still he’d show us the impossible: the longest headstand. He wouldn’t fall over. He wouldn’t quit; and still we wondered why he did it, my son and I. He never said, only showed something amazing: the longest headstand being performed in our house; it probably helped though that he was a block head named S...

 Note About The Piece: the "silence" is something conveyed through writing; thought I'd clarify that a bit.                                   Sharpened Sharpened syntax,  slicing silence. Sidenote: If any of the writing on this blog has made a good impact on your life in someway (EVEN if it was something you may have enjoyed reading for a particular reason), please feel free to share this blog with someone else who could be blessed also. Thank you for your support!  

          "Thank you for taking the time to meet with me today.", he said, grateful for the opportunity to shift things in his life. Sitting in the chair across from his interviewer he took in every moment. It was pleasant outside and this afforded him the perfect opportunity to get this change he desperately needed. Sitting outside at an outdoor table of a restaurant he answered every question asked him. "What are your skills? Where have you worked before? What are you passionate about?", asked the interviewer to start. John was curious about this homeless man he had heard so much about in the shelters and low to no income restaurants he'd frequented before. This man who sought to help when he was there. Cleaning floors, washing windows; so when he heard there was an outdoor table, he'd set up a time to meet with Paul.                It wasn't easy to track him down (since he never was in one place twice for long), but he...

       As soon as Harriet entered the building, she headed to the seventh floor. It would take her a while, but it was a journey she was willing to make; she would provide for her family. Little by little taking the steps (because the elevator was out), she'd climb one at a time. Slowly but surely she'd ascend the mountains before her. Each step was painful, still, she'd climb. Climb with gratitude. Climb with determination. Climb to overcome and thrive. She knew it would take longer, so she left her house earlier to give as much time as she needed.        No one knew at first that she was making that journey (for she arrived earlier than others, and travelled alone), but she went regardless. She would provide for her family in a time of great need. She would find a way up and through the difficult climb. Pacing herself, she rose. One step. Pause. One step. Pause. Seconds at a time, making every one count. Giving half a minute or so before continu...

        I see you who once thought yourself hidden, reaching for the surface and breakthrough, breaking down barriers toward your better where you refuse to stop. I hear your loud cries speaking words with each action, telling loudly your intentions; and I'm listening. I know your longing to grow from your secret place where you've felt buried, your springtime new time...you've told me; and I'm a captive audience who doesn't mind captivity.          I am cheering you on nature of all kinds, watching and waiting for what you'll speak with each time you grow; for I've been longing to grow from the "winters" of life too. Sidenote: If any of the writing on this blog has made a good impact on your life in someway (EVEN if it was something you may have enjoyed reading for a particular reason), please feel free to share this blog with someone else who could be blessed also. Thank you for your support!