Upon My Soul, The Night Has Fallen Dark

The last eight months have been a time of searching and growing. I have examined my soul, forced to finally face those darkly rooted areas that I thought I could avoid. Through the help of friends and an incredible amount of God's grace, I have learned to see not only my weakness but also what is true, noble, just, pure, lovely, of good report, virtuous, and praiseworthy. In light of this, I wrote the following poem and wanted to share it.

So for anyone else who feels that their soul has fallen into unbearable darkness, know that there is light available to you and remember that you will yet rise

Upon my soul, the night has fallen dark,
Without the blessed stars or guard'an moon,
Without the hope of song by speckled lark
Or even mournful requiem by loon.
Instead, in darkness, the utter silent void,
Harangued by condemnation self-applied,
My soul's abused, like mouse by cat is toyed,
And finds there only ash in which to hide.
Alight, my soul; arise on phoenix wings!
You need not stay beneath the ashen heap.
Sometimes we die to see what freedom brings
To life renewed but first must take that leap.
Refining fire awaits to gird your flight,
To give you strength to banish this dark night.

Be Strong, My Child, and Fear No Nightly Noise

In honour of my good friend Sara's graduation, a wonderfully insightful and talented writer and blogger, I wrote the following sonnet. Can you find the allusions to George MacDonald and J.R.R. Tolkien? In the words of Bono, "Every artist is a cannibal / Every poet is a thief" and I only steal from the best.

Be Strong, My Child, and Fear No Nightly Noise

Be strong, my child, and fear no nightly noise.

They are but shadows, clawings of the Ash

And whispers of the Alder who destroys,

Desiring all to hunger, rage, and gnash.

But in you, child, there beats a heart of gold

As pure as laughter from a baby's lips,

As bright and warm as fire in places cold,

As precious as the desert dew that drips.

So sing, my child, and make your presence known;

Beat back the goblins with your foot and song;

Let blaze your light and they are overthrown

For courage, kindness, goodness make you strong.

Go now, my child; adventure waits for you.

Remember me and say a prayer or two.

Who Was That Girl Beyond The Window Pane? - A Sonnet

Apparently waking for me is a good time for the first lines of sonnets. This is yet another production of early morning inspiration. I though it would be fun to write a silly sonnet after the more serious ones that have been coming from my figurative pen. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I had writing it.

Who Was That Girl Beyond The Window Pane

Who was that girl beyond the window pane?

The one with hair just like a chocolate fount

And eyes like emeralds dappled by the rain,

That sparkle like too many stars to count.

My heart is pounding like ten thousand drums

Or trying to escape me from within.

How can this girl be like a bard who strums

My heart as if it were a lyre thin?

Did she see me? Does she know I exist?

Will she come back to catch a glimpse of me?

Why is it so that someone can be missed

With just one look, the see-er no longer free?

Oh look! She dropped an item from her bag.

Our meeting's fate! No time to lollygag.

He Still Appears Like Echoes In My Mind - A Sonnet

Here is that sonnet I mentioned in my last post. I woke up one morning having the first line of a sonnet perfectly in my head and, because I didn't immediately write it down, all I could remember by the evening was "like echoes in my mind." It comes from the idea of when someone keeps coming to mind when you've tried to put them behind you. Enjoy!

He Still Appears Like Echoes in My Mind

He still appears like echoes in my mind,

Awake, asleep, at times inopportune.

A bond unbreaking, fates perhaps entwined,

From likened cloth, perchance, were we both hewn?

Has he become a spectre, closely tied

To earth, to me through ling'ring memory?

Refusing to release what was denied,

Have I thus cursed ourselves with devilry?

Farewell, my love. Forever now, adieu.

I shall release thee as thou dost deserve

For each man's soul shouldst not be bound anew

When once it has been freed from sin to serve.

May God forgive me for my selfish wish

To keep thee near instead of suffer anguish.

My Lord, He Wanders Where He Wills, Alone - A Sonnet

For Renaissance British Lit, my professor had us try to write a traditional sonnet. This is my attempt. I don't think it turned out too horribly, though, the end needs some work I think. Otherwise, I'm pretty happy with it.

My Lord, He Wanders Where He Wills, Alone
My lord, he wanders where he wills, alone,
With little thought to what his love may say.
By night, the stars call, “Come, we’ll show the way.”
He heeds their siren cries; his soul is flown
To heights that only gods can navigate
And runs as free as goats upon the mount.
Enraptured like Narcissus at the fount,
My lord longs to resume adventures late.
So I, his love, am left abandonéd
By his pursuit of planetary odes.
I have no skill that can compare, which bodes
Great ill, for as I lay upon my bed,
I languish like the nymph called Echo who
For love could nothing but repeat to woo.