"Work Yet to Be Done" - a poem

sitting amongst friends he hears the news
a loved one lost, a friend since birth
in the prime of life, a life snuffed out
he receives the message with grace
while inside his heart grows heavy

the morning air prickles his skin
a chill rolls in off the waves nearby
the brilliant sky holds no color for his eyes

he hears the lost voice
calling out his name
childish games and family meals
a lifetime of memories

he walks away from the cluster of friends
and moves down to the shore
a dull ache spreads through his chest
as he steps into the boat

the damp and musty wood
seasoned by sweat and sun
creaks and moans as he makes his way
into the prow

his friends soon join him
their laughter stalled
as they set out upon the water
a silent hill, a nearby shore
his eyes are closed with grief

his sandaled feet touch the waves
no warmth between his toes
he makes his way to a silent tree
somewhere to be alone

the tears are gentle but they are real
they stream down his sun kissed skin
he wraps his arms around himself
as morning reaches noon

alone his sits in mourning still
when the voices reach his ears
looking up he see the crowd draw near
the sick, the lame, the blind

he wipes his tears upon his sleeve
and makes his way to them
the sadness in his heart aside
compassion now burned with in

with grace and peace he spoke
he taught, he loved, he healed
then fed every single one
there was work yet to be done


-jesse arnold
April 2014

"The Darkest Place is Bright" - A Poem

there is no shadow without a light
in the dark there is only form, and sound, and smell
yet form without light can hurt
sound removed from vision can frighten

light reveals and guides
it warms and soothes

the broken and cracked it unveils
every illumination conceives a secret
shadows bloom in the presence of light

the light creates a darkness
that hides with every turn
never meeting its creator

the darkest place is bright
born of, but separated from the light
within the brilliance of the sun
a shadow never sees the light

i reach for shadows, burned in light
the scars and wounds reveal themselves
under a blanket of false night
the day unveils what shadows hide
for the darkest place is bright

-Jesse Arnold
03/16/14

26 - They Say There's Linings Made of Silver

Poetry is another thing that I feel fits best in Autumn.  When I think of Robert Frost's, The Road Not Taken, I always see it set in mid Autumn.  Maybe a little further in.  There is still color, but many leaves are already down.

Poems just seem to have a greater voice in this season.  Just like mystery novels, fantasy books/movies, and horror stories.  I know there is poetry about all the seasons, and fit well in them, but Autumn seems to evoke the best.  But hey, I am probably biased.

There is a simple poetry in the selection for today.  I came across this song after hearing the artist on that lovely website Pandora.  I don't remember which "station" I had created that she popped up in...(I'm thinking The Civil Wars)...but I kept hearing her voice and really liked it.  So, I picked up the album that had the songs I was hearing most of, and came across this gem:


Song 26/Day 26
        "Are We There Yet" from the album Everybody from Ingrid Michaelson.

I really like the bare-bones music aspect of this song, how it really relies on her voice to carry the emotion and focus of the song.  And she has such a great voice.  I really enjoyed this album as a whole, and look forward to getting more.

This is the song that stuck out above all the others.  Despite hearing it in late Winter/very early Spring, it immediately took me to Fall.  It has that same soft, driving sound, but unlike a lot of the other songs this list has featured thus far, it doesn't really build to a big rise toward the end.

The lyrics feel like they take me into the thoughts of this girl.  Whether it's Michaelson herself, or just the "voice" of the song I don't know.  But it seems like this is what she'd say in her journal, or what she is thinking to the person the song is focused at.  Maybe she'd never outright say these things, but they are heavy on her heart.

I can almost feel these words as tangible things.

I really like the lyrics in the third verse:

They say you're really not somebody,
until somebody else loves you.
Well, I am waiting to make,
somebody, somebody soon.

There's a sadness to this song, a sense of indecisiveness.  But there is hope.  And if you know me at all, that should be one thing that is kind of on my sleeve.  Hope is my heartbeat.  You could call me a hopeless hopeful.

So, a poetic song that makes me think of Autumn, and deals with love, wonder, and hope...how could I not love this song.  The only thing missing is a chilly rainstorm (but we got one of those Monday and it was fantastic!)

So for now, follow the link and find out if you're there yet...

Ingrid Michaelson's "Are We There Yet" from the album Everybody.

-Jesse

When the Stars Fell Like Rain (a poem)

Just an old poem of mine today.  Enjoy!

When the Stars Fell Like Rain

 

I heard the Night sky to me

As a sailor hears the sea

A piercing cry in the stillness of the dark

I stretched out below her

Gazing up at her brilliant form

Her children, the stars, sang out with her

Echoing her song

I let my mind carry me past the homes around me

Past the street lights trying to wash out her glory

In their song I hear the melody of God’s design

As chorus and verse waxed and waned

Harmony and rhyme washed over me

Like waves upon the shore

The song softened

My soul stirred as I’ve not felt before

A ghost of a whisper

The voices continued

Steady and precise

The beat pressed on

Subtly the volume increases

The crescendo bursts forth

A waterfall of joy

Drowned me in its deluge

To the East

Three stars flare and fall

Their voices lifted in praise

To the South

Two stars flung themselves across the horizon

Their song a song of triumph

The Earth joined in the song

The stars fell like rain

A sound the world has never known was heard

God sang to us that night

His love for us in every thing

And the stars fell like rain

Washing over me, cleansing my soul

I cried out in worship to my King

Bowing before His awesome wonders

His love enveloped me

And the stars fell like rain


grace, peace + hope

-Bear

Identity (a poem)

carried on a whisper's breath
a simple word
with a complicated meaning
layer under layer
each uniquely different, yet the same

said one way it means nothing
said another, and it is the world

it summons you
surrounds you
fills you with life
it is who you are
what you are

it is yourself
your name

do you respond with pride?
do you respond with awe?
with shame or even fear?
do you even respond at all?

your name

what you are known for
how you will be remembered
when someone speaks your name

to hear your name on someone's lips
to feel it carried by their voice
the truth of who you are
what you could be

it does not matter what you call yourself
remove the labels and the tags

the only name that carries weight
is what God breathed in your name
at the dawn of all things

take on the mantle of His design
in the lee of His whisper
embrace your name
become what you were born to be

-Jesse Arnold (03.28.11)

The Madness of Dreams (a poem - 02.02.2011)

the Madness of Dreams

the water submerged
beneath the feathered walls
the colors of tropics
descend in brown waters

large grey stones
absorb the warmth of light
stoic faces gaze out
countenanced to ward off the night

the soft collapse
of an avalanche
no less destructive
than an ant hill flattened

our deepest dreams
are darkest desires

a sure path
confounded by shifting walls
debilitating success
followed swiftly by
uplifting defeat

the top spins, wobbling
perched upon unfallen die
the pawn wears a crown
tapestry becomes a robe

the underside of the underneath
reflects the morning sun
as soil corrupts the snow
where death meets death
masquerading as vibrant life

a haunting from the future
a revelation of the past
the waters surge inward now
as we stumble off the ledge

a razor's edge we walk upon
within the world of dreams
our darkest desires
are deepest dreams

the path is wide
the distance shallow
the tight rope sways
the net is gone

stagnation equal to saturation
a bit too far
as perilous as
not quite far enough

dive in fast
do not hesitate
but know the stones
beneath the swollen waves

a rooster crows
the moon shines full
from nearby hills
horns sound loud
'Death!' cried out
in full life pursued

one lingering note of green
rides out
until the music fades

the glory of youth
for ever praised
upon some old man's grave

the leaves begin to turn and fall
away into the sky
the North wind blows in from the West
and home at last return the crows
into their sheltered nest

(by Jesse Arnold)

Further Horizons (a poem)

Further Horizons

a new dawn breaks
radiant light from sea to sea
gilding the peaks of Chomolungma
contrasting the contours of the Jordan Rift
their depths are revealed
to that golden sphere
for there is nothing new under the sun

but there are further horizons with in my soul

the ways of Man
are known to all
but the path of a man
who can claim to know?
his steps are kept hidden
even from himself

yet
from vainglorious ambitions
to the meanest of schemes
God knows the heart and breath
of every single thing

from the plunging roots
to the stretching leaves
each budding flower
and fruit filled tree
from bark to sap
canopy to twig
God knows them all

each furry squeak of every mouse
and mane tossed roar of any lion
wail of wolf, and hyena howl
the Lord knows every one

each well intended blunder
and great but horrible decree
each birth and death
every pugnacious massacre
He feels them all

amidst the grime of future devastation
the cold, silver night of depression's winter
the tastes of joy
the fragrance of despair

every dappled wood of inspiration
and deep, clear lake of love's strong draught
the monumental peaks of utter failure
to the small, close meadow of worshipful transformation

God is there

from the tidal shores of current hope
to the cold, crushing trench of doubt

He is there

even to the furthest horizon of my soul

For the Trees (a poem)

"For the Trees"

looking to the East I see a tree
it stands alone, magnificent
I stare and wonder at it's glory
I begin to journey toward it
focused and sure of my way

all along the path
I marvel to God at the splendor
and beauty of this tree
long weeks pass ere I reach the shade
beneath it's expansive branches

"God!" I cry, "Let me be a part of this!
Let me stay here and care for this tree.
Surely you pointed me to this place."

God sighed and pointed, "Look, there."
I followed his finger as it pointed back to the tree.
I examined the texture of it's bark, the complexity of it's leaves

"That is what I'm looking at!
God, this gift, it is beyond my understanding.
Let me stay here and learn."

Again God sighed.
He looked at me, as only a father can,
when their children doesn't understand.
He took my by the shoulder,
guided me just past the tree and said,
"No.  Look at that."

I followed his outstretched arm
and saw
just beyond the tree

before me sprawled massive mountains
and leagues of forests full of beautiful trees
my mind struggled to comprehend all that I saw
the hues and shapes of his design

how did I miss all this!?

How did I journey for so long
and not see this vast ocean before me

I looked up to my Father
He smiled
"Go." he whispered softly
and he gently pushes me toward my future