A Few of my Favorite Things

For my creative writing class I had to submit several polished poems. Here are my best three. I've posted a couple of them before, but they've been revised.

"All That is Gold"

Dreary days try to steal your fire, Dreamer

Cling to the beginning’s exhilaration

All that is gold is not all that glitters

Each moment the same, what seems like forever

The blurring seconds lose their animation

Dreary days try to steal your fire, Dreamer

You search in vain for your lost treasure

But nothing renews the fascination

All that is gold is not all that glitters

Hunt for the answer and become a seeker

You long for a little stimulation

Dreary days try to steal your fire, Dreamer

Take no heed of their ignorant yammer

They have lost all sense of expectation

All that is gold is not all that glitters

Don’t you dare listen to the disbeliever

Pursue your innate innovation

Dreary days try to steal your fire, Dreamer

All that is gold is not all that glitters

"Explore"

Brave-hearted seeker

Pass between the clashing rocks

Dare the vast green expanse,

To cross by sail and oar

           

Exploit the countercurrent,

Believe that the hidden might be

The legend gushing from Hades

Into the mysterious sea

Draw a map of thought into

The azure blue depths

That underwater river track

To probe the precious power

Charge the rushing water

Break free of the ebbing tide

Penetrate to the crucial details

Forever be anxious to discover

"Autumn Leaves"

Like ripening apples

That fade from green

To red, you anxiously rustle.

Twisting and trembling with

Excitement. Impatient to break free and

Dance away into the cloudy sky.

I was like you once

Eager to let go and be

Off on my own. But don’t long

Forever. Treasure what you already have

For you can never return to

What you left behind

Lina's Breakfast

I'm back from college for a few weeks now, and hoping to work on rewriting my novel. I should be posing more often for a little while.

This is a short story I wrote from a crazy prompt my professor gave me this semester. Enjoy!

Lina’s Breakfast

The dog jumped on her bed, startling her awake. “Get off!” Lina grumbled.

He responded with a whimper.

“Rick, get Piglet off me,” she growled, pushing back at the creature who was trying to shove his oversized body against her. Suddenly she slipped off the side of the bed as the Dane continued to push. She landed with a thump. “Richard!” She scrambled up and glared at the other side of the bed, which was conveniently empty.

She scowled, wondering where he went. After last night he should’ve at least had the decency to keep the dog away so she could sleep it.

Piglet stuffed his wet nose into her hand, whining with worry.

“What?” she snapped at the big black and white dog. “What’s your problem?”

He pressed closer against her, staring up at her with his baby-blue eyes.

Pushing him off the bed, she started to climb back into its warmth, muttering about the skittish Great Dane. She paused as she caught a whiff of bacon and coffee.

Her stomach growled. Was Rick making her breakfast? Frowning she grabbed a jacket and ran her fingers through her hair as she headed down the stairs. Piglet sulked behind her, sticking close with his tail tucked. She snorted at the pathetic dog.

“Rick, making me breakfast won’t be enough to make up for yesterday...” She froze in the doorway with her jacket half-zipped. Her heart began to race as she tried to comprehend what she was staring at.

A big red nose with oversized blue polka-dot shoes and a rainbow afro of insultingly bright hair stood in her kitchen, his painted expression beaming at her. He gripped a pan of bacon in one hand and a spatula in the other. “Good morning!”

A scream ripped from her throat as she leaped forward, snatching the ceramic vase on the table. “Get out!” she screeched, hurling it at the clown. It missed by a couple of inches and smashed against the refrigerator with a splintering crash.

He ducked behind the skillet, stumbling backwards over his colossal shoes and yelled as sizzling bacon grease streamed down his hand. “It’s not what you think!”

“Get out!” She grabbed the coffee pot and doused the bumbling intruder with the scalding black liquid.

“Yow! Mrs. Roberts, please! Rick let me in!”

She paused in the act of grabbing for another makeshift weapon. “What?”

He backed up a few steps, holding his gloved hands up in surrender and gulped. “Richard paid me.”

Crossing her arms, Lina gave the man in his sopping, bizarre get-up the fiercest glare she could muster. “For what?”

“To make you breakfast. That’s all.”

She scowled deeper at the man with ridiculous runny make-up in elementary school colors.

“I swear it!”

Stumbling forward a step as Piglet shoved his oversized nose into her leg, she dug her fingernails into her palms. “Get out. Now,” Lina growled.

The clown bobbed his head up and down and quickly waddled out the back door, his mop of hair mangled and dripping.

            As the door slammed shut behind him, Lina drew a shaky breath as she stared down at her trembling hands. Her heart still pounded as she reached down and patted the dog. “He’s not gonna get you, don’t worry, Piglet.”

            The dog peered up at her, tentatively wagged his tail, then trotted forward to sniff at the mess. Ceramic pieces sprinkled across the floor lying in the pool of coffee and splattered bacon grease. She shook her head. “That man...”

Stepping over the mess, she picked up the phone and dialed her husband’s number. He didn’t answer, which didn’t surprise her after what he’d pulled, but it was too early for him to have left for work yet. “Richard Roberts, if you don’t get home, clean up this mess and make me some coffee by the time I’m out of the shower, you’ll be sleeping in the garage till February.” After leaving the message she put the dog outside and made sure all the doors were locked before heading upstairs.

Lina squeezed her wet hair again with the damp towel then pulled it up into a ponytail and headed downstairs to check the situation.

The radio played the morning news and Piglet bounded over, greeting her with a woof, his rope-like tail wagging back and forth. She ruffled his black ears and peaked around the corner, not taking another chance at being surprised. Rick’s back was to her as he pushed the mop over her much cleaner wooden floor. On the table he’d arranged a bouquet of roses in a new vase, a plate with waffles and bacon, and her favorite mug filled with coffee.

Taking the mug, she swallowed some of the fresh coffee as Rick turned around. A large grin spread across his face, then faded under her frown. “Good morning, dear.”

She narrowed her eyes up at her juvenile husband and said nothing.

He walked over to her with repentant look in his gaze. “I had to prove to you that I was better than a clown.”

“Not by much,” she muttered.

Grinning, he pulled out the chair for her, “I know. Sorry for scaring you. But you really freaked Andy out.”

“Don’t care.” She took the seat. “He scared Piglet.”

“Everything scares Piglet.”

“I know.”

He sat in the chair next to her and gave her a remorseful look. “I’m sorry for standing you up on your birthday. I’m an idiot. I’ll never do it again.”

She averted her gaze into the mug and sighed with defeat. “You’d better not, or next time I’ll dump the coffee on you.”

“Yes, dear.”

He always got her with those big brown eyes.

Broken Christmas

This is one of the short stories I've written for my creative writing class this semester. I hope you enjoy it, and I should be posting more stuff soon. 

The sparkling glass ball twinkled in her trembling hand as she situated the ornament on one of the pine’s branches. With a soft sigh, she slowly turned and selected another delicate globe from the velvet-lined box on the hearth next to the flickering and crackling fireplace.  Its brilliant golden glow cast her boney hand in an even paler complexion. She rubbed her wrinkled fingertip against the cool glass of the ball and sighed. He’d given her this one for their thirty-fifth Christmas together, they’d had real tree then. The room had been filled with the sharp scent of pine. She longed for those days again. The days before this fake tree. Before this broken year. She hung the crimson-hued thirty-fifth ornament and stared at it, fighting the lump in her throat. 

Frank Sinatra’s rich voice serenaded her with a holiday song on her ancient record player, almost succeeding in drowning out the sounds of the others in the house. She’d told them to leave her while she placed her treasures on the tree and relived the memories. There were sixty-four fragile bulbs to grace her evergreen. One for each of their years together.

Pausing in her meticulous placement of the precious orbs, she strokes his picture on the mantel. “Merry Christmas, Dave,” she murmured, fighting the throbbing ache in her chest. They’d always adorned the tree together, reliving the highs and lows of each year. Alone now...she could only think of this year’s low.

“Mom.”

She turned to see her daughter had entered the room, holding a small present.

“I found this tucked in the closet. He left it for you.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she unsteadily lowered herself onto the couch.

Sitting next to her mother, the younger woman placed the gift wrapped in red paper accented with golden trees in the elderly woman’s quivering hands.

Neither moved for awhile, just staring at the familiar-sized box.

Tears began to slip out of the corner of the grieving widow’s eyes. Her sixty-fifth ornament. 

A Hand in My Life: More than luck

I can't say exactly when I noticed it. My parents raised me to recognize what most people called "luck" as God's blessings. But in the past few months, I see my Jesus' hand everywhere. More than just the bigger, obvious things. But in the bad days, in the stress, in heartache; in everyday moments.

To be honest, this semester has been stressful, overwhelming and simply exhausting so far. Now, don't mistake me. I love college and learning. Being a sophomore is great. And I like the material in my classes. But the amount of work had been wearing me down. Thank goodness that's not where I'm stuck at. God's been working in my life. In the little things. In crazy ways.

Almost two weeks ago, I was so stressed out over my workload that I was almost to the point where I couldn't get anything done. I'd tried multiple times, over a couple of days, to give it to God, like I knew I needed to, but I couldn't get rid of that anxious feeling. At one point, I sat down with my computer, on my bed, to do some homework, and an ant craws across my hand. I slap it, disgusted. I really, really hate bugs. Then...there's another one. And another one. And soon I realize they're crawling around under my computer keys. Yes. I'll say it again.

Ants in my computer!!!

This ontop of the stress makes me almost freak out. I start asking--demanding almost in tears really--God, "Why? Why would you let this happen? What is going on?" And...strangely enough, I got this really weird and kind of disconcerting feeling that He was laughing at me. And then, I just knew what He was telling me. He said (not in an audible voice, but these are the paraphrased thoughts/words/concepts that popped into my head, thank you Holy Spirit) "I am so much bigger than ants in your computer. Than your homework. I've got you in my hand. Why are you stressing out?" After that, my stress was gone. And I'm still plugging through my assignments today. He has and is sustaining me. I killed about fourteen ants that afternoon. I don't know how they got in there, and I haven't seen any since. But it's a mark in my life, and a lesson from God, that I will cling to for a long time.

This isn't the only instance I've seen or felt God work lately. A moved meeting that I missed (God providing me time), His taking care of my dad, a passage of the Bible before a hard day... Little things that mean so much. I recently saw this photo on facebook:

And it is so true. With God, even a bad day is not that bad. He loves me enough to carry me through when I can't do it. And teach me even when I dig in my feet.

Many of the Paslmists reconize that God is in control. But even beyond that concept, God takes care of you. He loves you, He provides for you. If you ask Him to open your eyes to what He's doing, and look for it, it's amazing what you'll notice. Here's a few parting verses that remind me of how much God loves me. Please, think about where God is working in your life.

"And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience—among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind. But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved—and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them." Ephesians 2:1-10

God is blessing you. Look for it.

Through Him alone,
Ericka

Some Poetry

Instead of doing homework the other night, I reworked this blog's look. I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Also, here are a couple of poems I wrote for my creative writing class.

“After Christmas”

Cold creeps upon us; it’s that time of year
The bells ring and shoppers begin to sing
The first snowflakes are welcomed with great cheer
Little children are practically dancing

The bursting joy of cheery Christmas bells
Laughter and smiles around the warm hearth
Will begin to melt and fade, I foretell
As people grow weary of frozen earth

The novelty of sledding and sweaters
Morphs to dreary days; sniffling noses
Things continue to become emptier
So terribly trapped within the houses

Don’t let dull days freeze curiosity
Cling to a little immaturity

"Nomophobia"

I can’t let go

It’s a part of me

It can’t leave my side

Not for a moment

The itch,

The urge

Thirty seconds pass

Time to check again

Still nothing

I’m being ignored

What’re they up to?

I’m out of the loop

A buzz! A ding!

Look! Look and see

Fingers fly, a reply is sent

Things are good for the moment

But... Bars disappearing

Power is failing

My heart is racing

And my dread rising

The battery flashes

Screen fades to black

I clutch it in desperation

At this horrid occasion

Disconnected

What if something happens?

Out of reach

I’m forgotten

I need my phone!

Drifting Away

Well, it's been awhile since I've posted anything. I could attribute it to writer's block, and that might be partially true, but I won't. I could say I've been too busy, and it is true, but I don't think it's why. I haven't been able to get my thoughts in words that fit. I've had the thoughts, I've written them down, but nothing worth sharing for awhile. I shall hopefully be posting more often now. To get started, here's a poem I wrote recently.

As life moves through time
The dear ones drift away
Leaving you behind
You surround yourself
New people
Unknowns
Searching
Daring to hope
For another one
One with whom you can be yourself
Instead of the guarded soul
Soul of the public realm
Instead of that, you
No worrying about impressions
Confident
Safe
Knowing you’re loved
And don’t have to be perfect
Why are you leaving me?
Where are you going?
Gone
Hurt
Waves of sadness
Days of solitude
Shut off the heart
Lock up the soul
And go into auto-mode
Where you don’t have to open up
But just act like you should
So no one can see
See the mess
See you
Forgotten
Perhaps
You suffocate behind the mask
Stifle potential
Until you are the shell
Oh please no!
Don’t leave me here
Here to rot
Please still care for me
Come back
Share life
And love
And prayers
And hopes
Oh God, please keep them safe
And if You will, bring them back
Back into my life

"O Lord, all my longing is before you; my sighing is not hidden from you." ~Psalm 38:9

Through God's grace and power,
Ericka

In Wonder of the Unknown

For hundreds of years the expanse above us, and what lies beyond, has captured human imaginations. We dreamed of flying, soaring through the clouds with the birds. Then we mastered flight, and the sense of wonder extended to the depths of space. A realm of nearly endless possibility to the humans mind that creates awe and inspiration in us. As far back as Babylon, we have account of humans trying to reach the sky. Now that we have, we’ve set our minds on the vastness of space.

Science fiction has grown from this dream. A dream to explore the unknown. A dream of abilities and things that are impossible in our reality. It’s much like a blank canvas for the imagination. Using what facts we have, a writer tries to conjure the possibilities of the future and different settings, or what things would be like on a different world without the same laws of nature.

 God is the original artist. He imagined our world, every intricate detail, and called it into existence. You don’t have to spend much time looking at our world to see its beautiful and elaborate features. Our Father then bestowed upon us a similar version of this ability. We can imagine and craft things with our own, a God-given talents.

That is what I love about sci-fi. It’s an expression of curiosity spurred by the wonder of God’s and man’s creativity. I love to imagine life on other worlds. The differences, the similarities. The good and the bad. And I think this stems from a hunger for the beauty of the redeemed creation. The perfect rightness that we lost in Eden. Science fiction stories show us that despite new environments and advances made by men, problems and evil are still there.

What we were meant for no longer exists in this world. In the depths of each of our beings, we’re not satisfied. We know there’s something better, we know we’re meant for more than this world. So we turn to other, fictional worlds to try and fill that hunger. But, in the future, when our LORD returns the wonder, awe and power will be amplified, while the evil and pain are washed away. That’s why I write science fiction. It’s a glimpse of the endless possibilities of eternity and a reminder of the fallen state of man.

“The heavens declare the glory of God, the skies proclaim the work of his hands.” Psalm 19:1

By God's mercy and grace,
Ericka