Month: April 2002

Sleeping

I cannot sleep during the day. I find
It difficult and pointless, dimming that
Intense fire that is my awareness to
Some peaceful lull that is half way between
A slumber and awake, where you both dream
Your dreams and think about them; then to lay
Away my book, which I had long since left
Off reading, drifting into some decayed,
Warm slumber in the middle of the day.

I once had thought of people who took naps
Like Walden’s railroad sleepers: vainly laid
In mud to let the ruckus of the world
Run over them, but Constance sleeps like love,
And nothing in the world can run her by.

She rises early in the morning, light—
Her brightest hour, and in that moment rests,
At peace, and yet still burning. It’s in that
Moment of quiet intensity that
She sets the tempo for her day. With spade
In hand she weeds the garden of her mind,
And sets the world to dancing.

I have failed
To ever see her in the morning, fast
Asleep in bed, to know if she awakes
With starts, or calm and quiet ease, but I
Have seen her sleeping in the day. She lies
Behind me while I work, her curve of hip
Exaggerated by the straightness of
The bed. I steal a moment’s peace and sit
Beside her, wrap my arm around her own,
And in the partial knowledge of her sleep,
She pulls my hand close to her heart.

Somehow
She manages to sparkle even while
She sleeps—to burn and yet still slumber. She’s
So different from me, and yet she’s the same.

She turns to sleep so she may wake again

She Gave Me Love

It was two weeks from when she gave me love
In a little porcelain puppy figurine
To the time she called him back again

I never cared for dogs.
I had one once, who when he died
I rejoiced that he was finally free
Of the mindless neglect that I had given him

Not so this ceramic token
He had the highest honor in my house
I dusted him and cleaned his feet
I watched him, as he watched me
Waiting for the phone to ring
So I could see her face
And make her laugh again

I meant to marry her—she had said yes
But never felt like going out to buy a ring
Waited a week to tell her parents
Another week till she told me
And demanded back everything she had given
Whether word or deed

I argued, but she said no
I couldn’t keep a single memory
It was three months before I gave up the habit
Of gnawing through my cheek
And three years now, when I have finally forgot
Nearly everything

But sometimes I still wonder
If she was offended or even cared
That I unglued the paper base
From that porcelain figurine
And if she kept, or threw away
Her little love for me

I Believe in You

My love leads me to dissipation: I
Lie listless, moping, thinking how I would
Surround you with my arms and lay my head
Upon your breast and watch the clouds obscure
The sun, which then obscures the stars. My day’s
Work lies beside me, rotting, left untouched,
Untended, as I tend to you and balk
At all the things I thought I loved when I
Imagined you, but would not trust in God.

I could not make myself believe in you.

Your love outshines me: I cannot compete
With everything you’ve given me—yet I
Refuse to be so easily undone.
Your love is pearl, and mine is steel—a love
That’s common, though refined, but does not seem
To match the ornament that I would like
To grasp. But I will beat this iron till I
Can call it something rare, which may be said
Competes with silver. Call the alchemists!
If what was once called gold is lead, it can
Be changed again. So I will prove my love’s
As good as yours.
It’s not impossible.
New elements have been unearthed before,
And compounds thought incredible have been
Found preexisting in a natural state.
Then cannot this new element that is
Between us be compounded naturally?

I will not say it is impossible,
For I believed in God and found in you
What I imagined.

I believe in you

Bed and Breakfast

Jeremy Flynn was 7 miles from the Tennessee State line when he remembered the livermush and Cheerwine. He immediately took his foot off the gas, but it was too late: the sign for exit 7 was already swishing past him. He accelerated again and started looking for another road sign. Karen wanted the livermush for something she was making for the wedding. Jeremy didn’t know why she insisted on doing all the food preparations for her own wedding–her parents were more than willing to contribute whatever was necessary. But some strange manifestation of Southern pride had convinced her that she was the only cook for the job. He sincerely hoped the Cheerwine wouldn’t end up in the punch. Continue reading “Bed and Breakfast”

Comments

It’s amazing all the comments I’ve been getting lately. Apparently I’ve wowed you guys so much with all the things I have to say that nobody feels there’s anything left to cover.

Or it could be that stories and poems are difficult to comment on and that if I want comments, I should enter something more personal. My mom gets on to me for the same thing. She complains that she knows I’m alive because I send her poetry, but she doesn’t know how I’m doing because I don’t talk about events in my life. And she’s right. Events in my life are the most boring thing I could ever imagine. The big news for me? I have a paper due tomorrow and I wasted all day yesterday without even touching it. I did my laundry, cleaned my room, went out with my friend and her dad (that was a requirement, he was in town to pick up stuff, and well… c’mon! the man has a right to meet his future s… I mean that uh… well anyway), then I played video games until 12:30 or something. I’m lazy and I me for it.

Now, back to my poetry…

I’m taking this class on how to go to Ireland and England. Basically, we talk about history and culture and stuff and it’s pretty cool except for the annoying papers. They had a required paper on a list of subjects (every paper had to be different so we could read them to each other) and each paper had to be 2-3 pages with 5 sources. Has anyone here ever tried to write a 3 page paper using five sources? Mine was 6 pages. Then they add on a paper if you miss a class. I missed 1 class and I still haven’t done that paper. It’s due about a month ago.

That said, one of our requirements for the class was a map test. I did fine on it, but I couldn’t find the River Liffey. So I made up this little ditty…

The Liffey runs through Ireland,
and down to Dublin Sea,
and licks the feet of everyone
who would remember me.

I can see my Mary cryin
as she kneels upon the shore
groaning like the first day
that she heard I’d come no more
And there’s my brother Charlie
A standing like a man…

And there’s where I stopped because it’s pretty morebid and I coudln’t figure out where to go with it.

And tha’ts you’re weblog for the day.

KB

There Is a Place

There is a place
Beyond the edge of morning
Where words mean more
Than ordinary things
There’s the place
Where tomorrow has no meaning
And I can go
To dream and dream and dream

A place beyond my worries
Where I don’t have to care
A place beyond mere happiness
A place beyond mere fear
A place where I can listen
To my own heart beating
And know that someone else
Is very near

No One Ever Knew

Two swimmers met in a pool one day,
And one of them was drowning.
The other was afraid.
The drowning swimmer was the better of the two,
And the lesser wished to swim away.
“If his strength has been made weak,” he said,
“What can my weakness do?”

He began to drift away.
The drowning swimmer never looked.
No one ever new.

Two swimmers met in a pool one day,
And one of them was drowning.
The other was afraid.
The drowning swimmer was the better of the two,
And the lesser wished to swim away.
“If his strength has been made weak,” he said,
“What can my weakness do?”

But he screwed up all his courage,
Dove him down and swam;
So the stronger swimmer lived
By pushing down his friend.
And as he climbed to shore and looked
He saw his brother, caught
In the pull that held him too.

He looked away.
He told his friends,
“My brother died today.
I was at the shore and could not save.”

Two swimmers met in a pool one day,
And one of them was drowning.
The other was afraid.
The drowning swimmer was the better of the two,
And the lesser wished to swim away.
“If his strength has been made weak,” he said,
“What can my weakness do?”

But he threw aside all thought of courage
And held fast to love;
He called himself already dead,
And down he dove.

The stronger swimmer lived that day,
Saved not by strength, but by a friend,
And moved by grace he looked at him,
Breathed deep his breath, and dove again.

Then on shore they lay,
Each grasping for his breath,
And when he’d caught it, first the one
And then the other left

Neither spoke a word.
No one ever knew.

Victory and Fame

I know a lot of “famous” people, and I used to think that maybe I wanted to be famous. But now I think not. Because Jesus said that if you’re famous for something, you already have your reward. If I’m famous for my ability to sing or to dance, if I’m famous because people know I’ll do just anything that pops into my head, then my reward is that people everywhere know me for my abilities. If I’m famous for being smart or skillful, then that’s it: I’m smart and skillful and my reward is that I have lots of people standing around just waiting to watch and to help me be smart and skillful.

Here’s what I want to be known for: If you gathered up everyone who really knew me and asked them to tell you one thing about me, I want them all to agree in unison, “There’s one thing I can tell you about Kyle: He loves me.” That’s what I want to be famous for: love. I want people think, even if there’s no one else, Kyle I can always trust. Because, see, if I was famous for that, then I would have all these people standing around just waiting to help me love. It’s what Jesus is famous for. Think about it: yeah, he was perfect and all. Sure, he never did anything wrong. But what’s he really famous for? He died because he just couldn’t live without me. And unless he died he would have been without me. And now look at Him. He has all these people standing around just looking for a chance to help him love. You notice no one’s trying to help Him be perfect.

No one else in history has that kind of record. Even Paul is more famous for his teaching than for his love. I mean, yeah, he had love and all, but that’s not what he’s really remembered for. I’d like to break that record. Let me be the other one who’s famous first for love. I want to be known as a for what love is.

Picture this: Paul said we should run the race in such a way as to win and Hebrews says that we should throw off anything that holds us back in this race. But if that race is this just your life, then the winner is just the one who finishes first. If that was the truth, then we’d have people committing everywhere just to finish the race first! But how many stories have you heard about people who got to look ahead to the judgment and they were rewarded according to one thing: did you learn to love? That’s the race, and that’s the goal. You win the race when you learn to love. And you are rewarded according to how well you run.

Bob Jones had one of those judgment visions, and everyone he saw that didn’t win, it was because they were too much tied up in the things of this life that they were focused on. One man was focused entirely on the bottle he drank from. And in the judgment, he was stuck inside that bottle with his head sticking out. He could barely move! Another one was focused on his gardening. And in the judgment, he was tied by a garden hose to all his hoes and shovels and bags of seed. Poor fellow, he was tied up and held down by all these weights. Another lady, who did win the race, as she entered into her reward she was surrounded by angels ministering to her. Her focus was on love, so the only things she was tied to were people and instruments that helped her to love.

It’s possible to run the race and not even compete. Imagine if you saw a hurdles race and one of the contestants refused to jump the hurdles? He’d probably finish first, but he wouldn’t win the race. He wouldn’t even be considered a competitor, but a distraction, a hazard to the other runners. James 1:12 says, “Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will received the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him.” That crown of life is a reference to the ‘crown of laurel’ given to the winners of the ancient Olympic games. Another view of this verse might say, blessed is he who jumps all the hurdles, because then when he finishes the race he will receive the medal. Jump those hurdles! They were put in your path on purpose. Because, after all, if you don’t go through trials, then you are a , and not a true son (Heb 12:8, KJV). And who, if given a choice, would be a ? Illegitimate children will never enter in (Deut 23:2).

But I want to enter in. And more than anything I want to win. I want to win. I want to throw down every weight, deploy every seed I have instead of merely carrying it. I want to persevere through every trial I encounter and never run around it. I want to be surrounded by that great crowd of witnesses, who cheer me on and push me to my utmost. I want to be tied only to those things which lighten my step, and I want to win that crown of laurel, be it marathon or sprint. In the end, Lord, I do want victory and fame. I want to learn to love.