contradictions

I’ve received several heart-warming comments from some of you lately in reference to my blog and just wanted to say “thank you!”  Comments are always, always, always appreciated.  Any of you who have your own blogs know how relieving it feels to be assured you’re doing something right.  I’m grateful that things I say strike a chord with people.  That is one of the reasons I do this. 

One thing I am sure I will never be complimented on, however, is my blog schedule or the timeliness of my posts.  I haven’t written a word here in several weeks!  Part of that is due to a busy schedule with college, but a lot more is due to laziness.  I find myself mulling over what I should blog about, then scratching all my ideas because they aren’t profound enough. Then I realize that trying to be “great” or “profound” is killing my blog.  Striving leads nowhere.  So, I’m going to jump on something rather random today and ask for some feedback.

I attended a lecture on the craft of writing this afternoon.  The lady speaking shared her favorite quote by Walt Whitman. 

“Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself. I am large, I contain multitudes.”  ~Whitman

I am not a big fan of poetry, but Whitman’s poetry would rank as some of my favorite.  I feel this quote to be somewhat cocky of Whitman, but I couldn’t help but empathize.  As a writer, I have so many ideas running through my head that it is very hard to keep them all in perspective. 

So what do you think?  Is the great Walt Whitman merely speaking of the dichotomy that exists in the human mind…or is he bragging about his own greatness and ability to be above average?  (To get this quote in its context, read “Song of Myself.”)

Thanks in advance for any and all opinions!

Blessings,
Em

two poems

I wrote a couple poems for my creative writing class.  Neither have rhyme or meter.  The first does have a line scheme, but the second is a prose poem in block (or paragraph) form.  I thought I would share them with you.  Feel free to critique, or let me know which one you prefer. 

Also, side note, the first poem, “Trust” is not meant to have political implications.  Yes, it is written in 2009 and I emphasize the word “hope”, but that is not me parroting Obama’s campaign.  I may need to change it slightly, due to that.  Let me know if you feel it comes across as political.

Trust

If trust equaled faith, equaled
hope, I would be a mess.
How thankful I am
It does not.

Trust did not leave me
Abruptly,
waving out the window of a car
driving away.

Instead, he became emotionally distant.
It took time
And loss
And pain.

A friend in the Psych ward
A government without Bin Laden’s head
A school teaching fabricated facts
Prayers that seemed ignored.

LIES!
My heart built up defenses
And could not take people at their word,
Cynical was what it became.

And yet…
Trust does not equal faith
nor hope,
Both of which I cling to.

(C) Emily Grace 2009

Grandpa’s Garden
Light and coarse, cascading between the cracked skin of his fingers, the dirt trickles down like a waterfall.  Groaning, my grandfather bends knees that are stiff with age and old war wounds.  I mimic his actions and drop the tiny seeds where he instructs.  As my bare feet lay in the impressions the old man’s shoes have made, the squishy material between my toes clings to my skin, latching like a leech.  I follow grandpa’s trail up and down the sod rows.  When we are done planting, I veer off his path, into the lush, cool grass.  As I glance back, I see my own dirt marks in my wake.
(C) Emily Grace 2009

In a Mother’s Eyes

This is posted with a grateful prayer and bittersweet memories of those I know who have or are currently prepared to sacrifice their all for my freedom.

Blessings,
Emily

poetry, anyone?

WE WEAR THE MASK

We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,–
This debt we pay to human guilde;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
               We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
                      We wear the mask!
                                       ~Paul  Laurence Dunbar, 1896

Desiderata

Yesterday, I printed and framed one of my favorite poems.  I intend to hang in my college dorm when I move in Thursday afternoon.  It’s a gorgeous prose poem that makes me just sit and breathe deeply. That may sound weird, but I really want to inhale life when I put it down.  Please take the time to read this!  Your day will go better, I promise!

 (This pic has nothing to do with the poem. . . it’s just gorgeous. 🙂  Don’t you agree?)

“Desired Things” (Latin)
by Max Ehrmann in the 1920s  

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs,
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love,
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

 

The Prodigal

I am giving you all another poem of mine, the date written is at the bottom.  This is only the second poem I’ve included on here, for good reason, as you’ll see after reading. 🙂  Poetry is the first form of creative writing I ever did and it hooked me into the “business” . . . but let’s just say it’s not my “forte”. 

❤  Em

The Prodigal  

I scratch my head at 2 a.m.

and wonder why I’m here.

What in me chose the city life,

          with people so far yet so near?

 

My heavy heart looks longingly

at all the memories past.

Wishing myself there once more

            under youth’s protected mast.

 

Wide and open prairies shine

stretching on for miles.

Wheat fields catch the sun’s bright rays

            showing God’s golden smile.

 

Forests shielding nature’s life

    and river’s bubbling streams.

Up a particular maple

           was the greatest place for dreams.

 

Merciless blizzards whip ’round

        snuggling houses deep in snow,

giving families the perfect chance

to bond together and grow.

 

As the tears streak down my face

I remember people dear.

Loved ones that I miss so much

and haven’t seen in years.

 

My parents, always sowing love,

     Little brother, trouble but fun,

Grandparents, always there for me

            if I ever needed somewhere to run.

 

Uncles and Aunts, cousins too,

our clan so full of joy

laughing and teasing eachother,

 the oldest girl and youngest boy.

 

Our church, although very old

          was my favorite place to be

the encouragement, the love,

the faith and sincerity.

 

Our congregation, fairly small,

gathered together each week.

Learning together, praising God,

       listening to our pastor speak. . .

 

Finally I can take no more,

           and know what I need to do.

Memories may be beautiful

          but they can bring pain,too.

 

Dashing from the room

            I ignore the glowing clock,

in my heart there is no time

         and no restraining lock.

 

I packed no clothes, made no calls

only drove on for miles.

They’d be waking when I arrived

                            greeting with warm hugs and smiles.

 

Soon sights become familiar

                   and my thoughts no longer roam.

I jump out crying happily,

              for at long last I’ve come home.

 

            Written by Emily Grace

the evenings of

February 1st. and 2nd. 2004

 

New Pledge of Allegiance

Once again I am taking the easy way out and just copy and pasting something of interest.  Enjoy!

~emily

WRITTEN BY A 15 yr. old SCHOOL KID IN ARIZONA :

New Pledge of Allegiance

Since the Pledge of Allegiance  
and The Lord’s Prayer 
are not allowed in most
public schools anymore
Because the word ‘God ‘ is mentioned….
A kid in Arizona wrote the attached 

 NEW School prayer: – 
Now I sit me down in school
Where praying is against the rule
For this great nation under God 
Finds mention of Him very odd.

If Scripture now the class recites,
It violates the Bill of Rights.
And anytime my head I bow
Becomes a Federal matter now.

Our hair can be purple, orange or green,
That’s no offense; it’s a freedom scene.
The law is specific, the law is precise.
Prayers spoken aloud are a serious vice.

For praying in a public hall
Might offend someone with no faith at all.
In silence alone we must meditate,
God ‘s  name is prohibited by the state.

We’re allowed to cuss and dress like freaks,
And pierce our noses, tongues and cheeks.
They’ve outlawed guns, but FIRST the Bible.
To quote the Good Book makes me liable.
We can elect a pregnant Senior Queen,
And the ‘unwed daddy,’ our Senior King.
It’s ‘inappropriate’ to teach right from wrong,
We’re taught that such ‘judgments’ do not belong.

We can get our condoms and birth controls,
Study witchcraft, vampires and totem poles.
But the Ten Commandments  are not allowed,
No word of God must reach this crowd.

It’s scary here I must confess,
When chaos reigns the school’s a mess.
So, Lord, this silent plea I make:
Should I be shot; My soul please take!
Amen 

 

 

First Poem blogged!

THE COMPASS THAT WON’T POINT NORTHHow handy it would be
For those like you and me
Who struggle day to day
And do not know the way
To have that guide to see.That compass, oh so strange
Those pirates would exchange
Jack Sparrow’s it once was
As strange as him, because
Northward it did not range.

It could still be our guide
A blessing-in-disguise
Because where it will point,
Enlighten, or anoint
Will then no longer hide.

Desire diagnosed
That thing we want the most
This compass then reveals
Not judged by how one feels,
“Should do”s or what is close.

Can you just envision?
No more indecision
Knowing each choice is right
And will not disappoint,
Hurt or cause division?

So I think that, henceforth,
Any price would be worth
Obtaining, if we could
One, for our common good,
Compass that won’t point north.

Written by Emily Grace
The morning of
Thursday, August 23, 2007
(C) 2007

P.S.~ The image at the top really is identical to the POTC compass