a different beat

he dances to a different beat
he sings and hums and whistles
a song no one knows
or can learn to accompany

he thinks with different thoughts
he ponders and wonders what others
think they know
and doesn’t surrender to disappointment

he walks a different step
to music no one else can hear
but if they could
they would soon discover

it’s not just a different beat
it’s not just a different drummer
it’s an entirely different instrument

How is this legal?

I’ve never liked coffee
That sleazy coach in middle school who always yelled—
Plumes of coffee breath would always come out his mouth

That morning kiss on the cheek from Dad
Couldn’t it come before the morning ritual?
Or maybe without the coffee he’d kiss the fica plant instead.

That bitter taste, even after the sugar
The creamer
The extra flavor
The half and half
That bitter, bitter taste that lasts
Long after the swill was swallowed

The obnoxious teenage boys and girls
Acting all grown up because they did shots of
Espresso
As if maturity was measured by what one drinks,
And how snooty one does it.

The high school teacher who constantly lost the class
Because that coffee stained smile
Was just unnerving, alien and unnatural
All eyes avoided the front
Concentrating on everything but the Cheshire

Those idiots who alternated between poisoning themselves
Alcohol on the weekends (for greeks maybe more)
Coffee for all nighters especially during finals week
Sleep deprived zombies taking tests to finish
Pre-med, poli-sci, astro-physics, communications
This is higher education?

The massive industry all contrived to make us addicted
The most dangerous legal substance known to mankind
Peddled expensively with
Fancy names and fancy flavors
All for the all mighty dollar
(sigh)
I’ve never liked coffee…

Blocked

It's a wall--insurmountable.
Scaling takes mores than is within, 

still must try.

It's a mountain--immovable.
To climb and hike
Trecherous and frustrating.

still must try.

It's a frozen waterfall--impassable.
Break through the cascade? Absurd.

still must try.

Obstacale?  Say hellooo to God.
He's bigger.

Divine

It's snowing outside.  Not the blizzard like snow or the stuff that really accumulates.  I think it's movie snow.  Girlfriends have talked of it lately; they want movie snow.

I joked of setting up wind machines and getting bleached corn flakes or shredded foam to make them "movie" snow.  Now as I look outside I see what they meant.  Like looking through a filter of white flakes--everything seems pretty.

The wind has been blowing too much for me.  The umbrellas outside the window are coiled and secured but still they sway and swish and rock, precariously it seems, under the ferocity of the wind's wrath.

Just goes to show: life is not a movie. No matter how I imagine it so, life doesn't flow like a nice little tide story on the silver screen.  Life has plot lines that don't get resolved, relationships than never heal and wind that blows too hard.

These descriptions could all be said of bad movies as well, which are perhaps closer to life than "good" movies.

As I sit here I finish my book, cold tangerines.  It's a book of celebration in everyday life, the extraordinary way God shows up daily, and how all of us are struggling in our own ways to make sense of life and faith and ourselves.

A wonderful friend recommended the book to me.  I love how I think I know her and we get together and talk and I'm still surprised to learn more about her.  Something she dislikes or how her kittens make her and her husband laugh or a new wine she's discovered and loves.

We are so different.  She is quiet and reserved and cultured and intelligent and musically gifted in a way that would make me jealous is she wasn't such a gracious and loving friend.  I am loud and boisterous and like to think I'm cultured and can carry a tune but I don't always think I'm smart.

She is also beautiful and whenever I'm around her I imitate her good posture.  She is so many things I aspire to be like and wish I was more.  And the more I grow to know her, the more I see she is just as human as I am.  She's not perfect or a saint.  She has struggles too.  She gets it right and has great days and weeks.

I find more and more how we are alike.  How our faith and thought process and temperaments are similar.  How these and our personalities weave in our lives to hinder us at times and hold us back from being the women God wants us to be and already sees us as.

The book she recommended, called 'cold tangerines', is a book she owned and let me borrow.  That was a risky move on her part because like me, she highlights and underlines as she reads.  It's one of the most intimate experiences, reading after her.  I'll read and suddenly I spy a marked passage coming or a phrase or sentence highlighted.

It's been a glimpse into my friend's soul.  What I see makes me love her all the more.

I see a woman so like myself, striving to come to terms with life and herself and God and love and everything that happens on this journey, be it what comes or what we make out of it ourselves.

I look outside the window and see those two umbrellas shaking in the wind.  But still standing and together.  I see my friend and me, anchored by God and swaying in the circumstances of life.

It all makes me smile and celebrate this moment.  Amidst the chatter of the barristers, the music playing softly and the customers around, I am sitting here having a sacred moment.  My soul is at peace.  I see the eternal despite the temporal surroundings.  I celebrate my friend, how blessed she is by God and how blessed I am to have her my friend.

This is the day that the Lord has made; Let us rejoice and be glad in it.  Psalm 118:24

some haiku in no particular order

I've got football on the brain.  Just watched the Colts today and we're off to the Superbowl!  The following haiku are not connected exactly...though they are a little tunnel visioned. 

Warning, these are obviously not traditional haiku.

    The Win

kickoff commences--

early lead fades quickly but

we're a comeback team

Manning

four time mvp

he's lead us to victory

now another ring?

Career Highs

Oh! Pierre Garcon,

how lovely were your catches, and

how swift were your feet.

Austin Collie
how much fun to be

an NFL rookie bound

for the Superbowl.

Perfect Season?

Fans learn their lesson

Caldwell, Colts define their own

perfect season end.

Colts vs. Saints

They're Miami bound

Two weeks until the big game

Someone's history...

Go Colts!

hope is the last to die

emily said hope was a thing with feathers

that perches in the soul...

what if it flew the coop?

do pet stores carry hope

like gerbils, rabbits and fish?

or perhaps one needs to put their hope

on a special diet, to fatten up

like a turkey in early fall.

hope can not be fed on just itself

others are needed to sustain it

even when a mere whisp of hope remains

that is enough to revive to full health

to give it strength, to make it sing

to let it fly above all

Afraid of the ...

fear the monster
around the corner of daydreams
in the shadows of musings
beneath the surface of calm, cool and collected
there lies chaos, confusion and consternation
turmoil that cannot be escaped
imagination warped
intellect perverted
haunted happiness and villainous joy
the monster waits behind every smile
waiting to question
waiting to doubt
waiting to engulf and devour

Honeymoon

Morning Snow

Nonsense

The Journey of Discovery

discover the magic tome

wander through the fog

of ancient mysteries when

the haunting chapter

of searching for who

one really is begins

down the road in the journey of one's travels

between the pages of one's life

beneath the drama anddevices

the truth speaks if only

one will hear

part monster

part hero

part lead

part supporting

part adventurer

part romantic

part victim

part villian

part comedic

part dramatic

one has many roles to play

to explore, to amuse,

to learn, to detect

to imagine and to entertain

the soul and the stranger meet

when one looks

in the mirror and

refuses to blink

copyright michelle post

I Am

I am...
Justice, Compassion, Order
I like happy ending and fairy tales come true.
Truthfullness is important to me.
Harmony is important to me.
Faith is important to me.
Generosity is both memorable and valuable.
Forgetfullness can be hurtful, but understandable, eventually forgiven and hopefully learned from.
Tempus edaas rerums.
Nemo surdior est quam is qui non audict.
Vincit omnia veritas.
I am...


Copyright Michelle Post

Latin Translations:
Time devours all things.
No man is more deaf than he who will not hear.
The truth conquers all.

Paradoxical Us

You

Rational, Logical

Fix, Solve, Act

Antagonist, Enigma, Conundrum, Exponent

Relate, Empathize, Defer

Expressive, Temperamental

Me



 
Copyright Michelle Post

Fallen to Risen

creation, adam, sin
adam, sin, infection
sin, infection, mankind
infection, mankind, imperfect
mankind, imperfect, lost,
imperfect, lost, Jesus
lost, Jesus, found
Jesus, found, saved
found, saved, bought
saved, bought, redeemed
bought, redeemed, loved
redeemed, loved, eternally…

Copyright Michelle Post

Nature's Day

The oars on the boat rowed

as if they had a mind of ther own.

Indeed the entire day seemed to possess

a consciousness,

a sentience,

a being.

The gentle morning light beckoned the day on,

and the heat from the suns' rays sizzled as they met the cool breeze.

Afternoon came and the wind whispered,

the trees danced,

 and the flowers gossiped endlessly,

as the lake chuckled in the wake of the rowing boat,

small as it was.

The burning light of fire gave way to soothering rays of dandelion;

soon the reeds along the lake side drooped with the weepeing willow

as if sad the day was passing so quickly.

The light shining on the crystal surface under the boar

transformed gradually from yellow to

orange and

red to

pink and

violet and

blue until finally

all that was there was

a streak of silver across the water.

The man in the moon looked down and smiled on the boat

as it rowed itself further and further out,

ignoring the appearance of night.

Copyright Michelle Post

Ares Poetica

A poem about poetry?

How odd thought the poet.

Though a verse to praise

the delightful prose

seems quite approriate.

Many becomes few.

Less becomes more.

Difficult becomes plain.

Simple becomes complex.

Anyone can write,

Anyone can rhyme,

Expressing what's inside

their heart and mind.

Discovering  a new world

or just new avenues.

Leaving behind comfort zones,

Stepping into others' shoes.

Possibilities to infinity

and probably beyond.

A poem about poetry, mused the poet,

why didn't I think of it before?


Copyright Michelle Post

Magnetic Poetry 1

color me night
let all your grey dreams
sizzle in the cold rain
dark is the fire that falls

Pacifying the Storm

They drove in silence,
the distance between them growing more
with every minute that passes.
So much has happened and been said
that neither he nor she can quite recall
how the argument began
or what had started it;
what each of them knows for certain is that
words have been spoken in anger and rage,
words that might never be forgotten.
Rain falls on the windsheild,
soothing cool water
that calms the anger lingering in the air.
Thunder and lightening interrupt the still atmosphere
as if attempting to spark the flame of dissention again.
Misty glass reveals the humidity taking its toll;
it goes unnoticed as blue clouds emerge
and begin to replace the storm clouds.
The gentle shower has pacified their tempers
And...as the sky begins to clear
all is forgiven.


Copyright Michelle Post

Beth and Dave Pantoum

Of Beth and Dave I wish to rave,
whose kindred soul's found one another,
possessing a love so strong and brave,
only God could have brought together.

Whose kindred souls found one another,
love so evident it's contagious,
only God could have brought together
two spirits who are so courageous.

Love so evident it's contagious!
Han and Leia they remind me of,
two spirits who are so courageous,
surely their strength comes from above.

Han and Leia they remind of,
possessing love so strong and brave,
surely their strength comes from above,
thus ends my rave of Beth and Dave.


Copyright Michelle Post

Note:  Wrote this for Beth and Dave on the occasion of their wedding.  As I look back over my years of writing this one is a favorite, perhaps due to the effort I exerted in trying out a new form of poetry and actually following the rules of it's form!

memories

never easy

summer leaving

must collect the light

keep for winter

can use when cold

or sad to warm

up and remember

Copyright Michelle Post

Magnetic Poetry 2

you

surrender to my arms like...

melt beneath my fingers like...

linger under my skin like...

dance through my mind like...

spin around my heart like...

and

all i can do is

...breathe...

Copyright Michelle Post

A Second Look At The Love Chapter: A Wedding Poem For Jon & Alicia

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.” 1 Corinthians 13:4-8a


Love me unconditionally—
At my worst, at my best,
Everywhere, all the time in between.
Take me for who I am… For who I can become,
Ask me to only be me, never someone else.
Encourage my dreams, share my hopes—
Let me cry on your shoulder when the weight of the world is too much to bear.
When it seems I’m not listening,
Let go of your frustration…look me in the eyes,
Hold my gaze so I know to pay attention.
Laugh at my jokes (even the really bad ones).
When I stay out too late with the guys,
Remember all the times I’ve remembered to call you saying I’m coming home late.
When I leave messes in my office gently remind me to organize it.
On the weekend when I give you a list,
Pretend you’ve been looking forward to mowing the lawn all week,
That there’s nothing you’d rather do than clean out the shed…
When I’m stressed about paying bills—hug me, tell me I provide well for our family.
When I wake restlessly at 2am
Tell me it was just a bad dream; tell me everything will be alright.
After a long day of endless complaints at work
Be the sunshine I come home to that brightens my mood.
Resist giving me ‘that’ look when
I come home with too many shopping bags—
Talk to me; tell me I look beautiful; then help me figure out what to return.
Laugh at my impressions (even the ones you don’t get)
In the middle of the argument forget about my past faux pas’;
Help me find the middle ground where we can meet.
When I don’t get my entire honey-do list completed,
Thank me for what I did get done.
When I wake with morning hair tell me you’ve never seen me prettier.
In the middle of the argument forget about all the disagreements
I’ve lost or been wrong about;
See with me that finding unity on the subject at hand is important.
When I forget to finish my errands for the week, make me laugh;
Let me see it’s not the end of the world.
When I’ve been on the computer too long hold back your sighs,
Say that you want me to spend my time on you.
Shower me with respect…
When I fall be there to pick me up,
When I stumble, catch me.
When I struggle, carry on with me.
At end of the day, in the morning, in the evening,
Every day, all hours…
Love me unconditionally.


Copyright Michelle Post

What Language Barrier?

yes there is

English and yes there is

Russian

but smiles

hugs

laughter

the universal language

of love

and faith

the walls that God breaks down

that seem so tall to us

are to him not even a trifle

yes there are differences

beyond language and yes

there are gaps

in understanding

but

in our similarities

and our Lord Jesus

together

we are one.

© Michelle Post
(Inspired during trip to Khabarovsk, Russia to visit Pastor Roma and the New Transformation Church)

Still Here

Praise the Lord.
I can talk.
Say what is on my mind.
Raise that arm. Make a fist. Good.
Squeeze fingers. Good.
Wiggle toes? Check.
Follow the light…left….good.
Now right….okay, that will get better.
Give it time.
Be patient.
I am alive.
The miracle that is me continues,
Underneath all these wires and leads and IVs….
I am still here. Undiminished.
I am tired. I am sad. I am joyful. I am hopeful.
My strength will return,
And by God’s mercy and grace I will go on.
For it is in my weakness that God is strong.
It is in my brokenness before my Creator that I am whole.
And it is in my Savior Jesus that I live.
Praise the Lord.


© Michelle Post

Note: This was written a couple years ago in the ICU after my dad's worst stoke.  He's doing much better now, praise the Lord.

Second Star to the Right

Who knew, who would have guessed that is could all be true?

That elves were real, ogres exist, fairy godmothers too.

That witches and princes, magic beans and yellow brick roads

Were there to be found on the other side of the rainbow?

I’ve been there you see, quite recently, and I’m telling you true.

Fairy tale lands exist outside of me and you.

Over yonder where the starlight sparkles

It’s back there past that moment in time when you decided to grow up.

Yes, you still imagine things. Suspend your disbelief but

Always as the credits roll, you return to your so-called reality.

That childlike innocence and wide-eyed wonder shone so brightly in our eyes,

I confess I no longer see in your countenance.

You may call me a fool, a child, insane.

But I know the truth you can't take away.

Perhaps one day you’ll ask me to help you find it again.

© Michelle Post

lullaby

swaying in the rocking chair

my eyes begin to droop

as daddy’s soft tenor

lulls me to sleep

i lean my head

against his chest

hear his heartbeat match

the gentle rocking

and as my father sings over me

i know i am safe

that thru the night

he’ll watch over me

in the doorway

he’ll stand and

listen to me breathe

at my side he’ll come

if he hears me crying and

in the morning when the dark has gone

he will come to wake me

© Michelle Post

Questions In The Night

"The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.” Zephaniah 3:17

So sick, so emotional, hormones I think, but then I realize I’m under attack… not the sinful foothold the devil had up to tonight no the Holy Ghost took him out in Jesus’ name rebuked he fled the area of my heart and mind and soul and I prayed so earnestly for the Holy Ghost to take control. The weight of it off my shoulders, my fever at it’s peak, my headache strong and spreading from my tears of pain and joy… more tears come and when did these thoughts of fear enter into play? While I wasn’t watching, celebrating the victory He gave. Fear, so insidious like many sins and temptations, it sneaks in as genuine concern, so one thinks but soon God is not in control and indeed seems not to be there, a lie from the father of falsehoods, for God has not left me but my fear is blinding and my easy targets are under fire once more. Dad. My job. My life. My witness. My walk with the Creator. You know these fears and others of your own I'm sure, you know how this story goes. What if Dad has another stroke? What if I’m just a body at work? What if my life has the wrong purpose? What if my witness sucks? What if I’m faking it–all the smiles, the songs, the prayers, what if my relationship with the Alpha and Omega is a lie on my part? What if Daddy becomes a vegetable, the light in his eyes so bright, lively, understanding, and loving gone from us yet his shell clings on? Maybe worse yet, what if that light still shines so bright and he can’t share it? Can’t speak. Can’t sing. Can’t write. Can’t communicate. What then? How will I explain to my Mom when I quit and leave Indy moving to Kentucky to care for him by my Step-Mom’s side? What if Mom’s hurt by the past once again and this time I cause it? How can I live breaking my Mommy’s heart? What if I can’t do it? What if I chicken out and can’t sit there while he suffers? What if I runaway from the problems of my life once again? What if I never finish my resume? What if I stay and get complacent and never see the promise my life could be? What if I never let go of my money? What if I’m forever in debt? What if I’m doomed to be another stat? A faceless, nameless, nobody who leaves no legacy, no impact on this world I’m in? And slowly I hear the music in my head. Nicole. Her sweet voice singing verses I still haven’t memorized fully but know the gist of and a chorus I have sung to myself in the car. In the shower. Cleaning. At work. “What if you’re wrong? What if there’s more? What if there’s hope you never dreamed of hoping for? What if you jump? Just close your eyes…What if the arms that catch you, catch you by surprise? What if he’s more than enough?” And I begin to wonder again-what if Jesus is more than enough to take care of all these fears and more? Not just mine but yours. And yours. And his. And hers. Anyone’s. The last line echoes in my head as Nicole sings powerfully “What if it’s love?” and Jesus’ precious love for me spills over my soul anew and fresh. His mercies, new every morning, are fresh at midnight too. His love. Oh, His blood that covers me, scrubs away the sin, fear, and doubt so easily so freely when I cry out ‘forgive me Lord!’ And another voice in my head that is mine but not mine says (What sin child, what sin? What fear? Let it go. Take my hand. Here at the foot of the old rugged cross, leave the fear there. There’s a spot just for you. You are lovely. You are beautiful. I see you pure.) I am unworthy God. (No, you are my image child and you cannot help that!) Me? Wretched me? What if I can’t…? (Of course, you won’t be alone. I am here. I feel your fear child. Your pain. Your tears. For all that sorrow take my peace. My love. My comfort. “The city of refuge is open tonight”) He says and that wonderful 4HIM song flies thru my head… (“Come inside, come on inside”) And I try to imagine walking inside the city of refuge. I try to imagine jumping into His arms. I try to imagine falling collapsing into the arms of the one who loves me without end. Without question. For who I am and whom He sees me to someday be. The headache stays but now I can sleep in peace. (“It’s alright, it’s okay, I am right here. Do you still not believe that I am Emmanuel? I will be with you even to the end of the age. I’ll never leave you nor forsake you, my child. I am Emmanuel, I am Emmanuel, I am Emmanuel, I am with you.”)

© Michelle Post

Contains a portion of the song “What If” by Nicole Nordeman © 2005 Birdwing Music / Birdboy Songs (ASCAP).

Contains a portion of the song “City of Refuge” by 4HIM, © 2001 Sony/ATV Acuff Rose Music. Contains a portion of the song "Emmanuel" by 1000 Generations, © 2003 simplistic records.

I Feel Eternity

I feel eternity
rushing over me, under me
caught in this cycle
He has made me to follow the moon
gladly do I crash upon the shore
beat upon the sand
then retreat

I feel eternity

rushing all around me

yet it is I that really moves

rustling the tall summer grass

stirring the autumn leaves

He sends me joyously to every corner

through every crack

I feel eternity

rushing from above to below

pouring down around me

I saturate the ground with my all

whether He sends me soft, sweet, fragrant

or hard, bitter, rough

I am delighted to be His to dispatch

I feel eternity

time itself rushing by me

enduring yet wasting away

I go not yet I am contentedly His

to sit on the mountainside

lie in the river’s deepest bed

to cry out praise when needed

I feel eternity
as I coast from here to there
across the vast expanse He has set me in
I float above till He weighs me down
with many different treasures
He sends me to deliver
happy am I to drift where He tells me

I feel eternity

rushing thru my limbs

as season arrive, seasons depart

when He call me to bear fruit

I do so cheerfully knowing even as I do

I draw closer to death

but always is His promise of renewed life

I feel eternity

as I spin in His heavens

merrily circling, sustaining His design

as He has called me to

I know time, yet no longer note it

seasons, decades, millennia fade together

I wait in breathless anticipation for His return

I am as near eternity

as any can be, not merely

feeling it, but seeing it before me, being it

time, space, they matter little

all He asks of me is shine in His cosmos

and shine for him blissfully I will till I die

I am His creation

© Michelle Post

Homesick

Longing for a home
As yet unreachable
Bound to this earthly form
Struggling and groaning in pain
Decaying and dying
Living under the curse of
An imperfect life
In an infected creation
Craving home
Where tears cease to flow
Where from peace
And love and
Holiness and His presence
I cannot hide
Restlessly hungering
Eagerly yearning
A home invisible
A home indiscernible
A home inconceivable
To human
Eyes and ears and minds and hearts
It is in and though divine energy
Satisfaction will be found
When His likeness is seen
When His face is before me
When I fall into His open loving arms
I will be home


© Michelle Post

Magic

A bell jar filled with twigs and blades of grass

and the hole marked lid—a residence

just waiting for an occupant or two.

As dusk arrived they came out glowing

and lighting up the evening.

They seemed to vainly be trying to replace

the sun or the moon or maybe

the stars, but to us they were pure

magic.

Catching them was a game;

we’d see who could catch the most

or who would catch one first.

We played until our mothers called us in,

and even then we’d stall for a half hour

just to savor the perfect

magic

that made up those summer nites of our youth.

Deep inside we somehow knew this time was fading fast;

enjoying it to the fullest was our duty.

Remember the thrill of seeing the glow in the jar—like

we’d captured a bit of

magic

that no one else had. Yet before we’d go in

that guilty feeling would build up and

overwhelm us so we let the little guys, or little girls, go.

Because we realized that we couldn’t be selfish;

no, everyone should be able to share in the

magic.

© Michelle Post

Inner Loomings

Faith is not always a champion which marches alone. Sometimes faith is accompanied by fear. Faith is not the absence of questioning; it is the presence of action in the midst of those questions. Faith does not provide all the answers; it provides a basis for confidence in the midst of unreasonable circumstances.
--Woodrow Kroll


we are told the faith of a mustard seed is all we need.
a mustard seed? really?
the tiniest seed one will ever see,
that is all we need to move the mountains to the sea...
a question, however, looms in my mind like a guillotine--
do I possess even that mustard seed?
I let my fear be bigger;
it towers over me like a giraffe shadows a blade of grass
I give the fear power,
and with power comes control.
I allow myself to be helpless.
(is that because I think I can no longer be blamed when I am not in control?)
why do I freely surrender my life to fear and doubt and apprehension?
my questions pile up like potato skins,
as if I am on KP duty for breaking the rules.
why don’t I have a husband? is there someone out there for me?
will I ever marry? can I actually be loved like that?
these are my questions; where is my faith?
I want answers—not just confidence.
(perhaps because I do not feel confident).
although,
even I would admit that the circumstances I find myself in are not necessarily,
unreasonable,—
uncomfortable, yes… pathetically lonely, probably…
however, not altogether uncommon…I suppose…
though am I really to take comfort in the idea, the fact,
the knowledge that there are billions of people in the world that feel like this?
how does that help?
what does my faith do to assuage the tears?
what does my faith do to repel the darkness in my heart?
what does my faith do to combat the loneliness in my soul?
it boils down to the bottom line that goes a little something like this;
do I believe God’s promise for me;
do I trust that my Creator has the best in store for me?
am I sure of what I do not, cannot see?
a future of fulfilled promises, of joy, of contentment…
a future. period.
I think I know the answer and I am afraid to acknowledge it.
is my answer “I don’t know” really a no?
and what does that mean for my soul?



© Michelle Post

In Farewell: The note left on the fridge next to the class schedule that wasn’t even noticed for five days

A sampling of things you should have done over the years—

 helped your friend in 4th grade when he got beat up by that sixth grade bully

 paid attention in English comp

 got a job

 asked me to prom 1st

 used more than two words in most of your sentences

 put the toilet seat down

 used your signal

 stopped our friend from driving after that party sophomore year

 stopped for milk at the grocery store

 paid attention in algebra class

 fought the good fight

 kept your mouth shut in pep squad formation

 cleaned the frat house before your mom visited

 paid attention in chemistry lab

 had any ambition

 remembered to turn your signal off

 let go of the past

 smiled at that kid on the subway

 treated your best friend to dinner for his birthday

 paid attention in history class

 waited for the trade paper back of 1st stargate atlantis

 gone to any of your classes

 dreamed

 kept your fridge stocked with actual food

 washed the dishes in your sink more often than every three weeks

 remembered your sister’s birthday

 thought about the future

 been on time to my dinner party

 called to say you would be late to my dinner party

 brought flowers for being late to my dinner party

 brought wine to my dinner party

 spoken like an adult at my dinner party

 stayed for dessert and coffee at my dinner party

 helped clean up after my dinner party

 apologized for ruining my dinner party

 paid attention in sociology class

 paid attention in psychology class

 paid attention to the stars

 paid attention to life

 paid attention to me

and maybe,
just maybe,
I’d have considered………


Copyright Michelle Post

Discover the Magic

discover the magic tome

wander through the fog

of ancient mysteries when

the haunting chapter

of searching for whom

one really is begins

down the road in the journey of one’s travels

between the pages of one’s life

lies the true character waiting to explode

beneath the drama and devices

the truth speaks if only

one will hear

part monster

part hero

part victim

part villain

one has many roles to play

to explore, to amuse,

to imagine and to entertain

the soul and the stranger meet

when one looks

in the mirror and

refuses to blink

Copyright Michelle Post

Unfathomable

Dark eyes consume me;
Their gaze so strong I’m bruised, so intense I burn.
I am tortured as if captured by Uruk-Hai.
I am carved as if He wields Narsil.
But not for all the rings of power,
Would I trade His gaze for another.
I am lost, drowning in the Great Sea,
When He looks at me with His love.


© Michelle Post

Creator Be Praised

Creator be praised
Let all Your creatures and creations
Live to exalt You

The works of Your hand

Your creation

Your design

Your plan

Every glance I take is full of You

All these wonders

They are Yours to

Praise You alone

I feel it in the winds’ fury

I hear it in the mountains’ rumble
I see it in the flowers’ tranquility

In the swirling tornado
The crushing tsunami
The shuddering earthquake
I feel Your power
Unstoppable
Awesome in destructive force

I feel it in the prairies’ stillness

I hear it in the forests’ jubilee

I see it in the rivers’ exhilaration

In the morning sunrise

The fresh fallen snow

The aurora borealis

I see Your beauty

Unmatchable

Breathtaking in scope

I feel it in the mists of twilight

I hear it in the falling leaves

I see it in the budding blossoms

In the babbling creek

The night crickets

The rustling grasses

I hear the music of Your heart

Peaceful

Soothing in quiet comfort

I feel it in the scorching sun

I hear it in the erupting volcano
I see it in the serene night sky

In the spring blooms
The summer heat
The colors of fall
I understand the cycle You have set
Steadfast
Though amidst constant transition

I feel it in the storms’ downpour

I hear it in the oceans’ roar

I see it in the rainbows’ promise

In the light of a full moon

The glow of sunset

The flash of lightning

I experience Your splendor

Radiant

Glorious in majesty

All these wonders

These daily miracles

Surround and remind me

Of Your love

Faithfulness
Sovereignty

Let me drink in the riches

Never to forget

The Creator

© Michelle Post

Almost An Angel

almost an angel
this goddess in disguise
in a pastoral scene of

sweet visions
a cold dark summer
and dreams colored blue
with melancholy

haunted whispers
smiles drunk with deception
dancing with her is like
caressing fire

 
 
Copyright Michelle Post

A Typical Week in the Life of A Writer: Manuscript for the Underemployed

Monday was the terrible day of writer’s

block when no words were

forthcoming despite

ample inspiration in the backyard garden;

even had to write this description on Tuesday.

Tuesday was the catch up day
had pages and pages to write to stay on schedule with the next novel
but then was sidetracked by the word of the day calendar……..pleonastic…….
spent hours trying to convince the dog it was a real
word.

Wednesday was a writer’s dream,

the muse was on fire—

simile after metaphor after hyperbole after paragraph

flew from my fingertips onto the page. well, keyboard that is.

somewhere in the middle of it all, I started missing my pencil.

Thursday. huh. never could get the hang of Thursdays.

Friday was frantic…

attempted to come up with something new

for the rap off at the coffee house.

knew that anything less than spectacular would be

deconstructed to oblivion

by that guy from the times that always sits

at the third table from the left in the second row.

Saturday, took a siesta…
then guilt got the better of me, so wrote up a grocery list.
think it’s Pulitzer Prize material.

Sunday made it all worthwhile

when he picked up my manuscript, read it and smiled.

wrote a haiku about that smile.

it goes:

‘uncertainty is

no more as his lips part,

let the light shine on’

Untitled

a chill runs down my spine
as the words he says creep
across the space between us
stealthily slipping past the
firewall within
infecting my heart with acrid sorrow
blink and he’s gone


Copyright Michelle Post

A Cheap Thrill

Ah, the crisp page smells of new adventures New flights of fancy on which to fly away

Page 52 comes too fast yet 172 takes forever
Lost in the descriptions, dialogue, -----
No longer oneself but this character or that

Pain, joy, discovery, empathy and sympathy both
Dreams, nightmares, specters, visions, fantasies, delusions

One is another; another is self
Together entwined to embark as one

To know is to become known
To prevail is to find satisfaction

To suffer is to begin to understand
To love is to encounter truth

At just the right moment one reads
The End


Copyright Michelle Post

Worth Fighting For

What are we holding onto, Sam? -Frodo Baggins

That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo... and it's worth fighting for. –Samwise Gamgee


It truly is
At once our hearts
Mere embers
Ignite with force
A bonfire
Blazing
Burning
Blistering
Heart and mind and body moved
Beyond rhetoric
More than thoughts
Lies battle
Heroic deeds
Victory
The hall of Our Father awaits


Copyright 2009 Michelle Post