Walk on Water

I thought I would give you all a taste of what kind of poetry I mean by the psalms to God, the poetry I am passionate about :) Hope you enjoy, or at least can appreciate it.


Walk on Water

“Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”

I eye the water
strap on my lifejacket
over my mistrust
and advance with caution.

“Come,” he said.

I lift one leg over.
The water is cold,
wind harsh on my face.
Securing the straps
I step.

Eyes filled with distrust
disbelief I would walk,
so I sink.

“You of little faith,” he said, “Why did you doubt?”

Forgive me my fears, Lord.
No reason to mistrust you.
Help me remove my hesitations
so I may walk on water
certain of your guidance.

What I learned about my grandma

So I got back last night from Portland, after a great weekend visiting with family. I figured that it would only be right to write down what I learned about my grandma, so I can remember it later.

-She is obsessed with roosters. They are everywhere! Porcelain figurines, painting, calendars. It's so grandmotherly!
-Now that she is retired, she goes to estate sales and buys other people's stuff.
-She owns the movie Bruno. How that happened, I have no idea. But it is on her DVD collection. (Grandkids were probably the reasoning behind it...I hope)
-She loves cats and has two of them. A creepy wild cat and a cute black cat named Twilight. I thought of Stephanie Meyer's book instantly.
-She has a good collection of books, which includes the 50 greatest books collection (or something to that affect.) She has a few Nora Roberts books, but the Mythology book and Hemmingway made up for it.
-As we were leaving the party, I told her we were headed to her house to party some more. Her exact words "Well, as long as there is gonna be hard liquor. It's my 80th birthday and I still haven't had any liquor." Haha it was pretty great.

Just some quick memories that I don't want to forget!

I want to hear more about the grandma!

In two hours I will shove my bag into the back of my brother's car and my family will travel down to Portland, Oregon for Memorial Day weekend. My grandma turned 80 on Tuesday so one of my aunts planned a massive surprise party tomorrow. All of the family on my dad's side will be gathered to celebrate, honor, and reminisce about her.

I haven't seen my grandma in three years, the last time being when I graduated high school. She came up for the weekend, spent a little bit of time with us, and I haven't seen her since. She visited a year ago for my brother's graduation, but I had already left for Summer Project. Due to stressful family situations, we slowly stopped our yearly visit to Portland. So, needless to say, I am pretty excited to see her. But if I am being honest, the party scares me. We are supposed to be thinking of memories we shared with her-but I can hardly think of any. When I was younger I was less focused on her and more on the fact that after we saw her, we were going to the beach. I don't know who she is, her personality, whether she likes to bake, or if she does the cute grandma stuff. Whenever I hear friends talk about their grandparents, all the memories of being spoiled and the necessity of grandma-time, I admit that I get a little jealous. I never had that kind of time. And it hurts a little that I don't have those memories of my grandma.

As I contemplate my future, hopefully full of a husband and children, I know without doubt that I wand grandparents to be in my kids' lives.I recognize that distance has alot to do with the frequency of visits, but I want my parents and my future husband's parents to be involved and investing in my children's lives. I want my children to know more about their grandma.

Two types of poetry

While cooking spaghetti tonight, I began to contemplate the contents of my final portfolio for my senior Capstone.Reflecting on the poetry I had written over the years, I had a realization. I write two types of poetry. The first is the poetry I write for school, for workshops, for people to be impressed with my poetic ability. They center around little events, western towns, and random images. I play with lines and punctuation. I even got one into Northwest Boulevard, a small press at EWU. It's all very impressive and meant to be shown to the public.

My other poetry is the words of my soul. I rarely share them with the world. I write psalms to the God that I love. My anger, my fear, my joy-all is reflected in my poetry. I admire the poetry of David and his Psalms. No matter how lost he was or desperate his situation, he always returned to praising the Lord. I try to model mine after David. This is the poetry I long to write, to display, to show to others. The baring of my soul's anguish and frustration, but all the while returning to praise and worship. Who knows if anyone would even be interested in the struggles of my heart!? I don't really know if there is a place to publish my poetry, since I am currently unaware of the booming market for Christian poetry, if there even is a market.

I am torn about whether to include some of these poems in my final portfolio for my Capstone class. I'm typically reluctant to bring in anything too religious so I don't offend or annoy my classmates. But this is who I am and what I am passionate about? I am still working through this as I write now, trying to understand who I want to please with my poetry. My classmates or myself? In reality, I lean towards pleasing others, but I long to please myself. Who knows. I am still contemplating.

Proust Questionaire

I stole this from my friend Megan. After all, she encouraged it!


Your Chief Characteristic:

- Laughter

The quality that I desire in a man.

- Humor.

The quality that I desire in a woman.

- Vulnerability

What I appreciate most about my friends.

- They love me despite my faults, and laugh at my bad jokes

My main fault:

- Stress

My favorite occupation:

- Spending one on one time with people

My dream of happiness:

- A sunny day with my man by my side

What would be my greatest misfortune?:

- To lose my family. They are everything to me.

What I should be like:

A mini-Jesus haha. I wish! I should be disciplined too

- The country where I should like to live:

Spain would be cool. But I don't mind the US

My favorite color:

- Blue

The flower that I like:

- I have a growing fondness for tulips

My favorite bird:

… I am not the biggest fan. Maybe flamingo?

My favorite prose authors:

- I am terrible at this question! Sherman Alexie, Jane Austen, Donald Miller, and Dee Henderson

My favorite poets:

- John Berryman. Robert Frost. Stevie Smith. Theodore Roethke. Richard Hugo.

My favorite heroes in fiction:

- Mr. Darcy :)

My favorite heroines in fiction:

- hmm...no idea off the top of my head.

My heroes in real life:

- My parents; Evelyn; those who have invested in my life over the years.

My heroines in history:

- Mother Theresa; Rigoberta Menchu maybe?

My favorite names:

- Jack. Melanie.

What I hate most of all:

- the word hate.

Historical figures that I despise the most:

- Hitler.

The military event that I admire most:

- Battle of Bunker Hill. Simply because it happened the same day as my birthday :)

The reform which I admire most:

- The fight for equality by MLKJ

The gift of nature that I would like to have:

- Not sure what this means...I wouldn't mind having the gift of running?

How I want to die:

- How God wants me to die. And knowing that I served His kingdom to my last breath.

My present state of mind:

- Trying not to stress out.

Faults for which I have the most indulgence:

- Impatience

Your favorite motto:

- One of them is: Do you believe you are saved from something or saved for something?

My Ode to Richard Hugo

I thought I would share a poem I wrote after reading Richard Hugo's book :)

Outlaw’s Return: Ode to Richard Hugo

This god-forsaken town hated me.
They hated the very thought of me.
Tainted, they claimed,
Ruined by poor judgment and
lack of all belief in the system.
I bruised their feeble egos
and was politely asked to leave.

The dull gray water tower
peeled and faded with
the town’s life and pride.
The once eager gold fever moved
to a new part of California, leaving
behind broken windows and empty
hotels, fences on rusty hinges,
dust thick in the stale air of abandonment.
No longer did the town hold that
John Wayne bravado,
swagger of pride to defend its
so-called honor from
outlaws like me.

I walk, confident, past
weather-worn planks and
cracked leather saddles
dulled with age,
prepared to take back what I lost.

The Triggering Town

Spurred by a class discussion, I wanted to share a craft book for poetry that really helped me out! It's by Richard Hugo, called The Triggering Town: Lectures and Essays on Poetry and Writing. It has nine chapters and goes through tips on how to start writing, what assumptions to use, different thoughts while he was teaching, an essay on his trip back to Italy, and bits of his own writing. I found it very helpful in my own writing. It would apply to both poetry and fiction writing (non-fiction would have a rough time, since non-fiction is based in truth while Hugo says to make stuff up.)

The most helpful part of the book is chapter three, “Assumptions”. Hugo bases most of his writing off creating assumptions for the little towns he passes or visits. To help readers generate ideas for their own town, he lists over seventy different assumptions to help get him into the right mindset for a poem. If you need a starting point, look there. And if you read this book and feel inspired to write a poem or story about some dinky little town, then Hugo succeeded in my opinion.

It is a great craft book and really helped me start figuring out my own style of poetry. I would definitely recommend it!

A few assumptions:
“No one dies, makes love, or ages.”
“I am on friendly terms with all couples, but because I live alone and have no girlfriend, I am of constant concern to them.”
“Once the town was booming, but it fell on hard times around 1910.”
“Two whores are kind to everyone but each other.”
“The jail is always empty.”

The rest you will have to read for yourself!