Just A Swim

"It is just a swim
Way past branching out on a limb.
Swimming in a pool of memories so bittersweet
that can only give off the sensation of life's defeat.
Through the eye there will always be a smiling face
That no one, not even death, could erase.
Through the ear, there will always be laughter and a voice,
So precious that burying them with the body isn't even a choice.
Through the hands, they will always feel that skin so warm and alive,
That touch, always in these waters will survive.
With every wave that crashes, I relive every little thing
With every wave, another type of sadness it brings.
I swim here, reliving every day we had.
Finally feeling reality sink in, and wishing I could be glad.
Buried in the dirt below, I'm left here nearly drowning.
While everyone else stands on the dock, crying and frowning.
To know that when I cry, you will be no where near.
The sky is foggy and clouded, not even close to being clear.
A burden weighs so deep inside that I might sink
My mind in all too much sorrow and pain to think.
So here I swim, in a sea of memories, too bittersweet to keep,
These memories going down far too deep."

Choppy

To explain the things going through my mind this week would make this post end up being entirely long. So instead, I've decided to just post a poem explaining myself. It's rather choppy, and it doesn't flow all that well, but I'm too lazy to edit it. It's alright for now.

'Worth Fighting For'

"It's always been easy to run alone
And only stop to help a friend who falls
It's easy to block out any other wounded man's groans
It's easy to ignore a stranger who crawls.

It's easy to ignore it all,
And keep at my run
At least until God breaks me down to a crawl
Then it all comes crashing down, with the simple fact that I am not done.

I am not done with my past
From my knees I look back
To the sorrow and pain that still lasts
I realize the love I lack.

I lack the love to see my family who was in darkness and at war,
I've blocked out their screams and cries
To me, all that mattered was that I was sore
To me, all that mattered was my battle of lies.

In my heart, to my core, it's always been about me
It's always been about my sin to kill
All that mattered was whether or not I could be freed.
But now with brokenness, my Commander has me filled.

As I get up, my body is shaking,
My friends are screaming at me to press on
They know I'm not faking
But I know to turn forward and run away is wrong.

Running back to pick up the pieces of my past
Gathering up all the hurt and pain
I commit myself to putting it in words that will last
No longer will I be afraid to be caught in the rain.

I've never known someone so selfish as me
Who did their best to throw everything away
I refuse to let everything just be
I will not stop till it is all out on the tray.

My broken self keeps me p and fighting
I see a need, and out of my heart the lessons learned pour
Because now I know what's worth writing
Because there are people worth writing for.

I don't care if everyone is telling me to leave it
I'm not stopping while there are people dying
So I'm gathering every bit
And not giving up trying.

I won't let anyone tell me it's not worth it
I won't let them say it's just a chore
Because in truth, they're worth every bit
Because in truth, people are out there worth fighting for."

Yeah...I feel like I could have done better. But I am going to leave it there for now.

God Bless,
  A.W.

Expand

I'll expand on this poem later. Even though I told myself that I was done with writing poetry for a while--but over the last few days, been talking to a new friend about theology and heretics, one in particular.
But I  became inspired suddenly. So I decided to write.
Going to expand later; probably going to try and make it applicable for Christians, and not just a random poem about how too often Christians aren't discerning.
Anyways, here it is. Literally, just finished it.

"You do not know the wolf you
prance so happily about.
You figure all he says is true
He never let you doubt.

What a dangerous game you play
Letting him speak
You invite him to stay
And discernment is leaking.

Letting the world turn grey
Kind and powerful words he uses as the bait
Soaking in all that he has to say
In this way you choose your own fate."


God Bless,
  A.W.

God's Work

So this last week I posted almost every poem that I've written in the last two years on Facebook. Took me a long time to do it, but I finally did it. And let me tell you, it wasn't easy. It wasn't easy because in whole, all of those poems were bits and pieces of me. And at times it is a scary thing to open up and share with others what is/has been going on.
It scared me because so often in the past I have put on a fake smile, or said I was fine when I was really breaking inside. Most of my writings are dark...I don't have the brightest of all minds, so dark things tend to come out. But it doesn't bother me too much, to me, in a dark poem I can express what is going on inside so much better than I can when it's a cheerful, uplifting poem.
Before posting them I hesitated, I didn't want to scare anyone. And part of me was screaming not to post them because there are still people who have known me for the longest time and have no idea what goes on in my personal life. I wasn't sure how they would take it. I was so afraid.
But as I thought about it more, I realized that my fear was wrong.
I realized I shouldn't be afraid to share the work that God's done in my life.
It should have come to me sooner that I should never be afraid to tell people what God is doing in my life.
I mean, in the past when I've opened up or written something personal and shared it with others God seemed to use it to change/encourage others.
I think sometimes we get so caught up in what man thinks about us that we forget that God could use what we've dealt with in the past to change others.

That made me change my mind. And with much prayer, I posted them. And no, God's not shown me just yet if He's used them, but perhaps He never will show me. All I can do is trust that somehow, someway, God will use them for His glory.
And for that reason alone, we should not hold back on proclaiming to the world the work God's done in our lives! He might use it in the craziest ways, you might never even know how God uses your words, whether you are speaking or writing.
Don't be afraid. Don't hold back on sharing God's work in your life with others.

God Bless,
  A.W.

Poetry

'Because of Sin I fell'

"The fire of Hell glows strong and bright

Creating moans of death and plight

But, we refuse to change our path

Choosing instead, to forget God’s wrath

Why so blind, you freely ask? 

Death’s hidden behind a diamond mask

Lies so clever, twist all thought

Telling of comforts, cheaply bought

The precious blood of our Savior dear

Was shed for all, For those who fear

But, heeding not, our Saviors lament

We choose instead, a life of torment

Through a deadly swamp of sin we trudge

This burden on our back won’t budge

Still, we try to move it on our own

And take the burden on alone

Our breath is wasted, lost and gone 

All because, of a simple con

That lie that led us straight to hell 

Will never remove its fatal spell

  

The world has led us to believe

By works, Heaven we can achieve

But, Satan smiles his lie fulfilled

And earthly treasures we all guild 

But, after death, those gifts will cease

For, we never knew a lasting peace

Now, all that’s left is to despair

For now all sin has been laid bare

Justly tried, I’m damned to Hell

All because in sin I fell."

I can take no credit for this poem. It was my best friend's first poem. Of course my friend thought it was terrible, and not very good, but showed it to me anyways. It was a privilege to read it.

My friend said that some people didn't like it that much because it doesn't have a good rhyme scheme. 

I entirely disagree with them on that. 

Poetry isn't all about the rhyme scheme, in fact, some of the best poems have a lot of rhymes but not a constant flow of them. 

Some poems just don't have the "A-B-A-B" or the "A-A-B-B" structure. 

Now I would argue that if a poem doesn't have any rhymes whatsoever it wouldn't be classified a poem. 

But I don't think that people understand sometimes.

Poetry isn't all about the rhyme scheme. It's about the words.

I say the words because the words alone are what makes a poem powerful. It isn't the rhyme scheme that leaves someone in awe after they finish reading it. 

It's about the words. The words are what will stay with the readers. That's what will keep them coming back for more. 

Words that have depth and meaning to the poem. And if the poem is worth reading, like my dear friend's. 

That's what makes a poem good. When it's meaningful. When it makes people think.

Sure a steady rhyme scheme is helpful and makes it flow better, but if a few lines miss it, that alone doesn't make it a bad poem.

It's the meaning and depth of the words that matters. 

My best friend wrote an incredible poem. 

I couldn't have done any better. And considering it's the first poem that my friend wrote, I was even more impressed. 

I had the privilege of reading this, and you did too.

God Bless, 

  A.W.