Soul Growth

 

         Seconds flit by, like hummingbirds in flight.....long gloomy days turn to dark gloomy nights.
         I watch the world in it's still state....and inside soul seeds begin to germinate
         I feel a shift inside my heart, it's a cataclysmic change.....and I somehow feel it's something that the          darkness can't derange.
         This month I've seen the light, and it's showing a new path....the golden flecks of soul-fire have cleansed me in their bath.
          Something is beginning now, with every passing day, I'm feeling changes at my core, I am the potter's clay.
         Questions haunt me, fascinated, I let them twirl me in their grip, what will my future bring? where will I go? is there a place I'm meant to be, and how will I ever know?
          But deep down in me, there is peace, a safety if you will.....because through everything I'm learning I know I am God's child still.
       

Frozen

                I've got a chill under my skin, the ice cold winds retained within,
                When you walk past you do not know, a frigid breeze doth lightly blow,
                 It creeps inside and lightly rests, upon my soul, within my breast,
                 I cannot shake it off you see, despite all the blankets I put over me,
                 and so I curl into a ball, for the cold,
                 makes it hard
                 to feel anything
                 at all.
             


















               

This Month....

  This is a post I will be doing monthly this year to kind of recap how the last month went, and preserve more memories, because life is made up of those, and what's the use of them if we don't remember? Hopefully you enjoy!

                                                               January Wrap-Up
                                     
                  favourite part: I'm not sure if this was my favourite, but probably my biggest accomplishment this month was doing my first Supreme Court Simulation, which I think was a milestone because it helped me to realize that I can do hard things, and be successful at something that previously seemed almost impossible.
                  reading: The Story of My Life by Helen Keller,
                  listening to: Rachel Platten's Wildfire (album), and lots of music by Aurora
                  learning: responsibility and how to stay happy in the midst of crazy
                  thinking about: how far I've come in the past year, and how excited I am for the future
                  doing: lots of homework, babysitting and dishwashing :)
                  next month: I'm gearing up for a whole new crazy awesome month. I'll be doing more hard stuff, the life changing kind, and I couldn't be more excited!
                 

Ode to January

           
              January.......a month of golden light and blue shadows. The crisp cold is like a numbing kiss                on my cheeks and nose, leaving a sensation of warmth where there really is none.
             
             The pure white snow, sparkling like a lovely gown, clothes the fields. The charitable skies                   gift the bare brown landscape with fairy white flakes, consecrating it with beauty.
             
             January.....you are so kind.
           
             Your soft white curves cover the ugly bareness of a snowless landscape, like a fairy                              godmother dressing a drab young girl in an exquisite ball gown. You shine forth radiantly,                  filling my world with soft pink sunsets and navy blue night skies. You hold every mystery of              beauty in your icy clutches and captivate me with it's presence.
           
             And yet people think you cruel! People condemn you for your freezing exterior, not                              understanding that it is a part of who you are....that you must have your bitter side like all the               rest of us.
           
              Many people hate the cold and curse the glittering snow.....but you shine on despite them all.               You show the world that cold does not always mean cruel, and that seasons and people who                  find it difficult to be loved are not any less worth loving for that.
           
               Dear, lovely January, you are my month of beginnings, my month of hope. And your beauty                has shown me the love that God bestows even on the frostiest and most misunderstood of                    his children. Because cold is it's own kind of beauty.

               After all, only the bitter weather has the ability to make us feel so sharply alive.

Mayflowers---A Tribute to L.M. Montgomery

Pretty pink blooms, scent sweet as summer, gathered by a dreamy eyed girl with auburn braids. “Smell them Marilla, drink them in” and the pretty girlish laugh fills the house as the springtime fills her soul.

the auburn haired girl is a girl no longer, but she still gathers the pretty flowers every spring, the gentler joy of young womanhood a soft light in her gray-green eyes, the springtime still intoxicating her laughter and her soul.

Soon to be a mother, her body burdened with the weight of a precious child, her eyes filled with a new wisdom and joy as she plans and waits. The springtime beckons from her window, but she cannot go out. A weather beaten old sailor, with eyes as blue as the sea he loves, and a laugh as deep as it’s rumble, brings her the pink blooms faithfully and the joy of spring fills both the old soul and the young.

Years have passed, and the young mother has laid one sweet little girl in the grave, soon to be followed by the weather beaten sailor. But a little boy with dimples and a delightful laugh lives on, her pride and joy. He too, smells the intoxicating delight of spring and he rushes back to his mother, his arms full of sweet smelling blossoms, “Isn’t springtime lovely mother dearwums?” and she agrees that it couldn’t possibly be lovelier.

The boy is now a man, and a great war, ripping apart nations and hearts all at once, has called him away from her. The springtime loveliness is like a knife to her wounded soul, but she carries on through it all. Her second son, a slender youth  with eyes like poetry, and a great courage buried underneath all of his fear brings his mother flowers, and they both forget the anguish inside of them for a moment.

All three of her sons have gone to the front, and the light that her sensitive poet brought to the world has been blotted out forever. As grief fills her soul, she feels that there is no room for springtime there. A small boy taps her on the shoulder, and looks up at her from beneath serious black brows. “I know you have no sons left to bring you flowers, so I brought you some in their place.”

And as she crushes that little body in a tight embrace, she knows that while there is springtime there is always hope.

A Poem

        if my soul could be seen it would look like a tree,
       with a long slender trunk and small shining green leaves,
        the bark, white as milk, is just like my skin,
        tender and fair but with strong growth within.
        the dark colored knots that peek as from a face,
        show beneath the first layer, there's wisdom and grace,
        the butterfly leaves, trembling in the wind,
        sing a song of a story about to begin,
        and so, like the birch tree I'll reach up to the sky,
        and show the world poetry is what I live by.

It Rhymes!!!

I have never been the best with rhymes. At times I try to write a poem in rhymed verse, but it never turns out the way I want it to. Sometimes, rhyme and rhythm can seem so...confining. Like I can't express my thoughts properly or correctly with these boundaries and restrictions that I have to adhere to. But for some time I've felt that a rhymed poem is just a necessary part of my experiments with great writing.
But last night after watching a lovely sunset, inspiration came and I jotted down this little poem....and it rhymes! It's really short and simple and not really that good but it rhymes!!! So just let me be proud of myself:)

                                         the day's sunlight was nearing death,
                                        but before it drew it's final breath,
                                        one last gift it gave to me,
                                        I opened up my eyes to see,
                                        a golden kiss on pearly clouds,
                                        that laughed in the face of a funeral shroud.

Anyway, that's all.....what should I call my first ever sort of successful rhyme?