Caught
Caught between Soul's care for Friend and her peace of mind,
To the One...
I told you solitude scared me,
The Art
In the Soul there burns a fire, which does dance to heart's desire;
i sing my song
tick. tick. tick. tick.
Dream a Dream
Dare to dream a dream;
More Poetry...
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Thought from depths of troubled heart do make the Soul go blind.
Should she live for self alone and ease her troubled heart?
Or would her fate more hopeful lie where she and he might part?
Trial and test of time they stand, though not on solid ground:
While Soul does care for her dear Friend, lost love cannot be found.
No, Soul, though, was not completely lost, for by One she was aided;
Show, he did, the way to turn when relationship grew jaded.
Near her, always at her side, One gives the Soul so much,
Yet, tears roll sadly down her face though her heart he does touch.
Pain she buries in her heart, shining locket of nothingness;
Rain falls from her eyes and stings -- she'd prayed for nothing less.
Cleansing Soul of marring fears and rinsing her of doubt,
Hot springs rise up and make their mark, within her and without.
But with a touch she'd grown to love, a touch of gentle hand,
She knows she's safe, she's confident, she knows that she can stand.
So caught between Soul's love for One and her peace of mind,
Thought from deep within her heart for answer searches to find.
"...Nothing inside of the locket she wore. Nothing inside of her heart anymore..."
9/16/97 11:15 pm
©JAL 1997
and so you held my hand;
I told you I was afraid to fall,
and so you helped me stand.
My face was wet with salty tears,
and so my eyes you dried;
My fears consumed my heart and soul,
and you held me as I cried.
One day you stepped into my life
bearing brilliant verse,
And then with words you stopped the pain,
you lifted off the curse.
Alone I'd been, crying and lost,
deserted in the night;
No longer need I dread the dark
for you are now my light.
In lending me your gentle hand,
In touching my sad soul,
In loving me for what I am,
You have made me whole.
11:17 pm 9/21/97
©JAL 1997
Leaping light of life and love does so bow and stretch each hour;
Flame of passion burning bright, of her life it is the light,
And the tongues of lapping blaze are the petals of the flower.
So feed the fire in her heart, tend the blossom, learn the art.
Overwhelming is the heat, searing, scalding hands and feet.
Pain of nails it brings with burns, while the flower does her sear,
Boring holes, leaving its mark while bringing light into her dark;
The warmth of light is comforting, and it pulls the Soul too near
As she feeds the fire in her heart, tends the blossom, learns the art.
Once the flame had been contained, on the wick it had remained
But having caught onto a wind, flame to her extends its arms
Naiveté is there for her, and shows the truth of wonder
Giving gift of bright flower, enthralling her with its charms
Which feed the fire in her heart, tend the blossom, teach the art.
Once the flame had been a friend; on its light did Soul depend.
Brilliant light then blinded her: Soul fell victim to deceit.
But now, somehow, with truer sight, Soul can clearly see despite.
Straining now to reach the star, Soul finds life is but conceit,
Which feeds the fire in her heart, tends the blossom, teaches the art.
Still caught by carping tongues of flame, Soul's despair is of the game,
Hope is only in the rain, flood of wish's troubled dreams,
So to light she gives her tears, washing out all of her fears.
Flowing forth from crying eyes, for safety her river teems;
She does squelch the fire in her heart, pluck the blossom, master the art.
9/28/97 4:10 pm
©JAL 1997
time, it slips away so quick
as ding dong goes the song
and the chime of rhyme does ring in time
to the beat of the drum in my chest
to the beat of the hearts of the rest
and on goes the song
and i sing right along
though i do not know the melody,
nor do i know the harmony
but i sing to myself
and to the world of emptiness around me
and within me.
to them, i sing my song
8:47 p.m. 9/28/97
©JAL 1997
Then hold it close to you.
If you truly want it, earn it;
God will see you through.
Work towards your dream
A little every day.
Learn to listen to your heart,
Not to what others say
When the trek seems unending
And the road is just too long
Be determined, be consistent,
Be persistent and be strong.
When you're nearly at the top
And your goal is in plain sight,
Take those final steps and know
The vict'ry was worth the fight.
6/28/97
©JAL 1997
To Heather
In September we met for the first time,
A Monday in September when we were six.
You shared your crayons with me
And at lunch,
I shared my Oreos.
Then we giggled with our mouths full of cookies.
In second grade
We sat at the same table in Mrs. Stamer's class.
And we whispered while we worked.
Mrs. Stamer never caught us,
She never knew who was whispering.
That May we walked
Side by side
In frilly white dresses
Pretending to be brides,
Trying to remember why we were in church with our classmates.
Third grade,
Fourth
And fifth came.
Together we studied our times tables.
We read each other's
Baby-sitter's Club books.
Usually, I borrowed yours;
You never read mine since you had them all.
We still giggled and talked;
We were best friends.
We said we would be forever.
I moved to a new school
In sixth grade.
Though I actually moved closer to your house,
Somehow we moved
Farther apart.
No, you moved,
Not I.
I invited you over;
You were busy.
I called;
You had homework.
I wrote letters,
But you must have lost my address.
A week ago I saw you.
You coolly smiled and said "hi."
I gave you a hug
To let you remember
For a moment
Two little girls
Sitting side by side
Giggling
With their mouths full of cookies.
10/13/97 12:45 pm
©JAL 1997
The Girl in the Room Next-door
When I was almost three,
She moved in.
The narrow room down the hall
Was no longer a place for me to play
No,
Now it was a place to keep quiet in
Because there she was nearly always sleeping.
I got used to her.
Adjustment comes fairly easily for three-year-old's.
But things never would be the same as before,
Before she came.
She eventually did grow up.
Well, not really, but some,
Enough that we could do things together,
Enough that we could play and pretend,
Enough that I could lead
While she followed close behind.
And I liked her,
I guess.
Six years
And some months, weeks, and days
After she moved
Into the room down the hall,
She moved into my room.
I had been conned into believing
That sharing my room would be neat.
But
Instead of more fun
There were fights;
--"Mom, she's been into my stuff again,"
I screamed.--
Instead of laughing,
There was crying;
--"No, I wasn't,"
She wailed.--
Instead of my room,
It was ours.
--"Girls, opposite sides of the room, NOW!"
Mom dictated.--
And the room was divided in two.
I hated her.
Six years
And some months, weeks, and days ago,
We moved
Into a new house
With a bedroom just for me
And one next-door for her.
I was happy again,
And thankful for having a door
That I could close
To keep her out.
But with the door closed,
The room was too quiet.
I missed having a roommate,
Someone to talk to,
Someone to laugh with,
And yes,
Someone to occasionally disagree with.
So I opened my door
And invited her in.
After all,
The girl in the room next-door was my best friend.
11:36 pm 10/15/97
©JAL 1997
The Princess
She naps peacefully
--purring as her tail curls and coils--
Despite the world around her.
She sleeps,
Willing to wake only to be served.
And when the time comes,
She will quietly stand and stretch,
Then a single graceful leap,
Will bring
Her down from her pedestal, her throne.
And away she'll walk,
With her head held high
And tail held higher.
11:55 p.m. 10/15/97
©JAL 1997
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