Poetry....

For those of my readers who are not personal friends of mine, you may find it interesting to know that I have never really been a poet. I tried to write a song or two that rhymed when I was little, and they were pretty laughable. As were most of the poems I wrote. I usually just stuck with "Roses are red, Violets are blue, etc" on my birthday cards, as that was about as good as it got.

Side note: Violet's are not blue! They are purple. And the word Violet is also used as the color describing a rich shade of purple. Not bluish-purple. Straight up purple.

But something interesting has happened in the last few months. My writing tastes have turned a little, and a few months ago I wrote the first poem that was anywhere near a success. Now, I am no Emily Dickinson, Robert Louis Stevenson, and certainly no Shakespeare. But I actually kept this poem instead of promptly burning it.

Welcome His Kiss
    
Some may gain joy
When it looks like rain
But for me its the sun
That wipes away pain 

Like a warm kiss
On the forehead and cheek
The shine brings much joy
When all else looks bleak

God fashioned it so
With its warmth and its light
That when its rays come
One might gain sight

Sight that gives glory
Sight that compels praise
Sight that enables us
To worship all days

So welcome its kiss
And let it shine bright
That it will always remind you
Of the Son who brought light


This poem was written as I was having a time of solitude with God and sat in what I liked to call this little glen of trees behind a chapel at a christian camp. I thought that this was a one time thing, and I knew that it had been the Holy Spirit and not I that had written that poem. But then, only a few weeks ago, another poem popped into my head. This one was in a way inspired by the same camp, as I worked at that camp this summer, and the title of the poem held the same name as the theme for the summer at said camp.

Identity

Identity they say is what you say and what you do
The clothes that you wear and the brand of your shoe
Your athletic capabilities, your brains, and your smarts
Whether the car you were given by your parents has cool parts

If this were true my words would frequently condemn me
What I do is sin quite often, and from problems I do flee
I cannot aim or run or shoot, my brains don’t get me far
And I need not even mention parts, as I do not own a car

What if instead our identity was found in something more
If what we do or say were not the way that we kept score
What if there was another way that we might find our worth
If our identity was found in something alien to this earth

I come to tell you that there is hope for those of us
Who do not own a car, and must instead ride the bus
Who can not meet the standards that are placed in our wake
And who in order to fit in must do things that are fake

There is a Creator, a being who desires friendship
Someone who loves us, even in the midst of hardship
He is holding out a promise; we should all take careful heed
A promise that says our identity in Him is all we need 

It seems rather weird to me that these poems popped seemingly out of nowhere. But I am thinking more in the terms of poetry lately. If I'm not careful, someone will get annoyed with me saying "Stop rhyming now, I mean it!" And if I am even less careful I will let slip the response: "Anybody want a peanut?" 

But corny jokes aside, I am extremely grateful that God allowed me to write these poems, amateur though they are. Now I am off to write a parody to a popular Disney song that has been in my head all day.