Wash me, Hold me

Be a surging, rushing wave--a tidal wave.
And I mean that; I'm not just being poetic.
Be a freaking tsunami, a hurricane,
a massive destructive force that mounts on the horizon
and devastates the land.
Be a tidal wave crashing over my heart,
rushing me and drowning my life with you.
Wash over me with such enormous force,
flooding, destroying, breaking down
and carrying away with you all the debris,
the clutter and all the stakes I have set up in this world.
Throw me off my feet.
Uproot me and shatter the roof of my home.
Be a disaster;
take everything I have built,
everything I have created
that binds me to this world.
Carry me with you, forcing me under your current
so that I am uncertain
whether or not I will even
survive.
Make me trust you with my life.

And after all that--after you
are my tidal wave, after you
break me down--
be my aid.
Let me feel your arms
around me.
Reach your hands down and lift me
from out of the rubble of my life and
hold me.
Rebuild me and mold me.
Replace the clutter of my life
with heartsongs to you.
Replace the flimsy roots I had set down in this ground
with unshakable towers of your kingdom.
Make me an ethereal being,
detached from this world,
yet present enough here to do your work.

And hold me.

Oh, how very blue is you

been awhile again, eh? i need to get better at that... here's a new poem, and then, an exciting explanation! yay! get inside my brain!

Oh, how very blue is you
by Justin Herter

Oh, how very blue is you
(In both furtone and in mood).

You once didhadnearly almost love
A tender whitefurredgirl with long
Long ears and purple overalls.

You once didhaddearly always played
Even as an arm you lost and even as
Cotton from a snag-rip-torn seam peaks out.

You once didhadtear’ly alltime love
The friend who promised but never did stay young
And even he “forgot the down as he grew up.”

And even as you lay there now,
Ever awake in old cedar trunk’s soul,
Counting counting counting particles of dust
And waiting w a i t i n g

W a i t i n g

W a i t i n g
For your littleboy’s never ever ever
(didhadnearly,
didhaddearly,
didhadtear’ly)
return…

Oh, how very blue is you
(In both furtone and in mood).

But at least you have your whitefurredgirl
To hold onto ‘til he does,
Right?
---------------------------------------------

Okeedokee, so this poem is about my very favoritest stuffed animal from when I was a kid--a blue mouse that everyone mistook for a bear. His name was Mousy. I believe I acquired him when I was 1 year old and didn't let him go til i was (must have been about) an early teenager. (I know, what a sissy I am, right?)

Stanza 2: One of my favorite things I remember playing with Mousy was that he was madly in love with another stuffed animal of mine, A white rabbit with purple overalls who I named Gertrude after the author of the Boxcar Children books. Anyway, Mousy was always chasing after Gertrude, but never did end up professing his love for her. They were always "just friends."

Stanza 3: His left arm fell off early on in his life while I was playing with him. It never did get sewed back on...

Stanza 4: The line "forgot the down as he grew up." is borrowed in paraphrase from line 10 of E. E. Cummings' poem anyone lived in a pretty how town.

Stanzas 4-7: Of course, I eventually grew out of my childhood (it took a long time though, I assure you) and Mousy and Gertrude were placed in my family's old cedar trunk, where outgrown toys that are too prescious to give away go to sleep forever. I imagine though that Mousy isn't really sleeping... he's still there waiting for his best childhood friend to return. And I wonder if he ever did profess his true love?

In God's Office

In God’s office,
snooping around
the other day,
I discovered the blueprints
to Oblivion—
the carefully calculated
plans for the End of the World.
But before I had time
to read how time dies,
my elbow got in the way
of a cabinet and jostled
the precariously perched hand-basket
atop ‘til it toppled over,
and out spilled Hell of it,
and splattered absolutely everywhere,
and made a real horrendous mess,
and I think I might have just
ruined the World’s End,
and the room stinks like sulfur now,
and the Devil wants a formal apology,
and I know this stain’ll never wash out,
and why couldn’t it have just been
a coffee instead?
…
Thank God for Forgiveness and Grace.

some thing i already spent

around Let’s run and
with the sun play and
ticklish grass will join
Our laughter;;;
but it rains today and
, for that matter, We
already sold Our childhood
at a fleamarket for some
thing i already spent,,,
so i’ll with the
fleas just dance and
besides
breathing you've stopped
anymore
anyway…