It is a great misfortune that the romance of war is labeled patriotic, whereas it seems that the dissent of a war which threatens the liberties and safety of the state is equally as patriotic, though, albeit, less romantic.

Scenery: An Old Abandoned Building after a Rainstorm

The musty scent of rain on an old abondoned building,
It's repetituious rhythm rapping on the roof.
The world is at peace in this tiny abode,
Forsaken by all but my gentle napping.
Softly it settles my soul to sleep,
Its only child in many long years.

The Clone

To my lovely I lost I made anew,
With a strand of your hair that I withdrew.
Your loveliness grew with each division,
Your image returned in the finest precision.

What wonder of science, what marvel indeed!
That the ones we’ve lost should return a seed!
Each imperfection, each blemish, each spot,
Every image of you again have I wrought!

As if that blackened water didst never steal,
Nor its choking waves against you feel,
But as Atlantis lost you’ve now arose
From a tiny ocean of four sacred codes.

The ascent, I reckon, has made you weak,
For your mouth is not so common in speech.
Very little you say, very little you do,
And what actions you take I never knew.

I wonder why, as each day does pass,
You are not so often to smile or laugh.
The town you loved to live and shop
Is now but for food and groceries to stock.

We’d often dance about this street,
Each person you loved to mingle and greet.
And though you know them, their names and address,
It is solitude and serenity you now love best.

Your garden your chapel, your diary your friend,
The cooking and art I never knew then.
You speak now through that which your hands create,
Your body you keep but your spirit forsake.

So I’ve learned to love you all over again,
As a poet, an artist, a lover, a friend.
The hair so blonde I’ve lost to the sea,
But the brown one I plucked lives evermore with me.

God doest make us from the dust of the earth,
For the breath he breathes in us come not at birth,
But the life we live, the chances we take,
That is the paint with which God creates.

Psalm to the Lord: With Instruments Give You We Our Praise

Let the boldened brass proclaim His name!
The strings and woodwinds join along!
For His power and majesty reign supreme.

All our efforts should amount to nil,
If they were to pay Him for all He's done.
No amount could we pay for all He's done.

So instead we sing, instead we play,
Our notes to heaven, for those divine ears.
Those ears which hear all earth below,
And for a thousand ages have heard our cries.

Raise your voice! Resound the notes!
Let the instruments of joy join along.
For our Lord is good, and it pleases Him to hear
The hymns of praise unto His name.

Love Is...

I was thinking what it really means to love someone. True love, all four encapsulated into one single aspect? The love of God, of a friend, of another human, and of the opposite sex. I've decided this:

Love isn't about what you seek. It's not something that you can measure by how much pleasure it's giving you. Love is about finding someone whom you pursue endlessly, so that you might pursue their desires. Not only their physical presence, but their mental and spiritual presence. They root themselves in your mind when they are a thousand miles away or just in the next room. Your entire existence is built for pleasing them because they have invaded every aspect of you, and you are left in complete surrender to them. This is why true love lasts. It is why God never stops pursuing you. It is why the man and wife spend sixty years in the same place together. It is why the missionary devotes all he has to sharing the gospel in the poorest of lands with the most desperate of people. True love gives.

Purity in God's Sails

Purity you seek in me, O God,
A heart unblemished and without spot,
Driven divinely into your will,
A journey into your own heart.
"It can't be done," the many say,
For their minds are set on the things below.
Their hearts are ships with broken sails,
Driven whereover the wind will lead.
But you've built my ship, O Lord,
And set my compass to yourself.
And wither the wind should wander me weary,
The breath of your voice will drive my sails straight.
Purity you seek in me, O God,
Steer this ship towards a greater shore.
Bring me toward the land you've set out,
And set my feet upon your golden sand.

A Short Rendition of "Every Man" I Wrote in High School

Austin Aldrich
Miss Colley
English 12 HNRS/101
10.11.07

The Seeker

IN WALKS SEEKER TO EMPTY, LARGE CITY
Seeker: Fail me! Fail me! And all shall fall fail!
This cursed ground my heart once did sail!
Who shall lift me from my grave sorrow,
And to my life inspire the 'morrow?

LAUGHTER PASSES BY, SORROWFUL

Seeker: Laughter, laughter, my joyful old friend,
What good news does my brother now send?
Have you a joke to fancy my heart,
Or a new deed that shall humor start?

Laughter: Nay, I have none new jokes to proclaim,
And to such gossip my mouth is tame.
I cannot lift thy spirits, old friend,
For now into hell do I descend.

EXITS LAUGHTER INTO FURNACE FACTORY(HELL)

IN WALKS SUCCESS, HAIR GONE WILD AND SUIT RUFFLED WITH OPEN, EMPTY BRIEFCASE

Seeker: Ah, success, my eldest of allies!
What news for me have you to surprise?
You've clothed me so well and fed me dear,
What business shall my golden ears hear?

Success: What fool you have been to waste your gain!
The poor, dead man's blood on you does stain!
You never did as your Maker told,
Left the orphaned, forsaken the old!
All for me, yet do us in you've done,
Now from debt do we both in haste run.

EXITS SEEKER INTO FURNACE

Seeker: Oh! Shall all in this hour forsake?
My spirit's remainder now ill take?
Ruined am I to the greatest degree,
Ne'r shall happiness I again see.

ENTERS PLEASURE, OLD AND HOLDING BACK IN PAIN AND DISGUST

Seeker: My spirit's lifted! You I have found!
To lift me from my sorrowful ground!
Let us go and make merry the night,
May boredom upon us take good flight.

Pleasure: Fool! Oh, fool! My bone's be so brittle,
What once of me great now is little.
Our candle once lit died swiftly out,
And now do I die, this none shall doubt.

EXITS PLEASURE INTO HELL

ENTER ROMANCE, A BEAUTFUL WOMAN IN A FAKE GOLD DRESS WITH BLANK, UNINTERESTED STARE, AS IF SPOTTING HER NEXT VICTIM

Seeker: Alas, though riches and honor fail!
With romance now, I shall soon prevail!
My habits she'll break, my deeds, undo,
Shall I be whole again when she is through!

Romance: When does a fire, lit well with a match,
Eternally to its wood attach?
We've had our flame, our romantic laugh,
Now the time has come, and I seek half.

Seeker: Surely not, shall you leave me as this?
Have you so soon forgotten our kiss?
The sweet, intense, and passionate bliss,
Shall you lay me into this abyss?

Romance: You did well, and filled me for the while,
Whole was our bed, my raiments in style,
My jewelry always of finest earth,
And yet a new man must I unearth.

Seeker: Depart! Depart! Oh, temptress wild!
Once so holy, so pure and so mild!
Thought I once you should bear well my child,
'Till our vows you have now so defiled!

EXIT ROMANCE INTO FURNACE

ENTER POOR, HOMELESS MAN, RUMMAGING THROUGH THE GARBAGE




Seeker: What ails you, friend, that you should search thus?
Sit, dear stranger, and let us discuss.
Your appearance shabby and undone,
As if cares thrust upon you were none.

Poor Man: I am poor, for many were rich.
And for their high place, ne'r shall I switch,
For many men I find now like you,
Whose worries are many and friends few.
Listen, now, and you I will inform,
How your cold heart may flee your soul's storm.
None shall fill you, whose cares are his own,
All your friends I shall never condone.
Seek and shall you find within the door,
The happiness you've been search for.
Come, my friend, now across this old street,
Guard for traffic, let not slip your feet.

POOR MAN AND SEEKER WALK AGROSS STREET TO LARGE SKYSCRAPER

Poor man: Knock well, my friend, and they shall soon come,
For the Owner's ears are made not dumb.
Listen! I hear! Now opens the door,
Of life and love here forevermore.

POOR MAN AND SEEKER ENTER INTO PARADISE

The Monster

With the hand of a god in mighty wrath,

A descent from heaven with violent gale,

Did the monster strew his odious path,

And ‘rouse the cries of a million to wail.

That loathsome clang of debris contorted,

Chewed and dismembered to a distant plane,

And the sound of sound itself distorted,

With the creaking of iron and steel in strain.

Arches unmade in a strange and twisted shape,

An alien world in moments begotten,

As a thousand watch in ghastly gape,

Of a world the earth has now forgotten.

The voided sound of an earth lamenting,

Silence! Strangeness! The earth now sleeps.

That roaring silence unrelenting,

Broke by none but mournful weeps.

To the homeless, home is heav’n above,

Where no man nor beast can wrath be wrought,

For there the bricks are mortered with love,

A foundation void of crack or fault.

To the mother barren and widowed wife,

Made thus upon this night such name,

‘Tis our Maker still that giveth life,

And brings forth the lost as saints to reign.

My Maiden Across the Sea

‘Tis a maiden across the shore,

Her eyes the tint of our expanse.

And in her smile she doth implore,

To cross the great blue void, perchance.

Her sandy hair as if composed

From the finest grains ‘neath her feet,

Doth in each strand proclaim a prose,

And in each knot construct a beat.

The fairest lady of the sea,

Her heart a treasure far away.

For a thousand years I would not flee,

If ‘cross the sea my maiden stay.

The Farmer’s Treasure

In the winter months of an aged land,

In an old small house there lived an old man,

Who had toiled and twisted the ground each year,

Till with a weary heart his feet did veer.

He sought for himself the treasure men seek,

That his neighbors found delicate and sweet.

And of their treasure too he wished a piece,

That the pains in his weary heart might cease.

He left in winter, his farm all alone,

Thinking treasure common ought not take long.

And though many jewels he found ‘ere he’d roam,

Long in winter sat the old farmer’s home.

For, nay, no gold that he touched with his hands

Could comfort his heart like the old farm lands,

And ev’ry piece he would eye with his sight,

Bore him a burden too heavy or light.

As the fire on his hearth gave its last breath,

And the embers cried in mourn of its death,

The old rugged man returned with hands void,

Alas! To the treasure he still enjoyed.

Fairest Maiden Lost to the Sea

In the ancient wave my maiden sleeps,

Nestled in the arms of the sea.

In the cold night’s tide I hear her weep,

And the crashing waves join her plea.

So long ago mine maiden left home,

Wert but to cease my ship from war;

And now each night the sea she doth roam,

In vengeance take each ship to war.

Harmonic Oscillations in a Church Sanctuary

Ah! Wooden, echoed arches,

Whence ne’er the sound of praise resign,

Up these wooden hallowed halls,

Into the ears of the divine.

Up! Up! Fly fair, golden tones!

Unto the golden light above.

And fair embrace heaven’s walls,

To morph into fine notes of love.

Stop not at this gabled roof,

To return to us down below.

But push thee forth each crevice,

That all the world our Lord may know.

Eulogy to a Summer Sun

Alas, farewell, my golden King!

Descend now to thy fabled death.

Below these pines, I do not know

If there thy brothers draw their breath.

In thine glory dost thou descend,

With brightened flames surround thy frame.

Thy blood is strewn across the skies

That crimson wave of ancient fame.

Behold! Thy frame that stood once strong,

Is now a twisted pile of gold,

Curved and tossed at every turn,

Its structure shall by no means hold.

Thy bones crash to the rocks below,

Those fabled rays that stood so grand,

Washed upon a foamy pink tide

Unto a distant unknown land.

But if thy Maker maketh kind,

With one night’s war you shall arise.

And in thy struggle riseth forth,

A triumph blazing through the skies.

A Love Song to the River Maiden

If nature in all her glory were stilled,

And placed well upon thine fresh almond eyes,

Then but one pierced gaze upon me be spilled,

And all else treasures mine heart would despise.

Thy poise and spirit as the river's flow,
Winding wildly to some yet unknown end.

With each wave of splendor thy loveliness grow,

And upon such the crevice thy frame bend.

For what could contain thy morning fragrance,

As the dew alighted upon the fresh summer rose?

As Spring doth begin her restitute dance,

So well my love for thee innocent grows.

Could God but cast in a figure so quaint

Of the natural order of His earth,

Then wipe from thy face the freshly paint,

Splattered upon thee at thy dear birth.

Should the morning birds in such their rhyme

Not stop to hear thy voice's sweet gleam?

Thy speech art the song, the sweetest chime

That men doth perceive upon a dream.

When'st shall the oak in the autumn's wind,

Outdo the gentleness in thy soul?
Or shall the rain fair 'pon me descend,

Wash me greater than thy presence whole?

Ought the stars to shine any brighter,

Then thy jeweled eyes set upon thy skin?

Or the moon reflect to earth whiter

Than that pure light wrought upon thy grin?

Then, should all of these properties stilled,

Be greater than thy beauty, my dear,

Then never was Rome to ever build

Or my words upon this page appear.

The Ancient Maiden's Shore

The lost love of the ancient shore,

My fairest maiden did adore,

How she praised that pure golden sand,

Seeping through her innocent hand.

She'd often sit and dream with me,

And wishing so the earth could be,

Here upon this virgin terrain,

Her castle and prince could be lain.

But children of men fell in gloom,

One by one, the sand came their tomb.

And swiftly did the ocean tides rise,

The fair Atlantis soon despise,

So none were left but my maiden,

Alone with grief's heavy laden.

For the few left did spy their ships,

To lay 'pon the ocean's harsh lips.

On that island there she now waits,

Waiting for some distant ship to come.

A Fisherman's Tale

Long in the hours spent by the sea,

Remote and secluded there was he,

With only a net and a box of bait,

And ill-fixed weather at ev'ry state.

As the glass named sea stayed still and low,

With only the wind to guide it so,

The net was cast, and shattered the sea,

One billion pieces were then let free.

As the sun hung low, conquered by night,

The man did allow his net take flight,

To only find in the world below,

A net of water, not worth a throw.

So he casted once more o'er the sea,

One billion pieces again let free,

And his net was only full of void,

Leaving the man tired and fair annoyed.

So lonely the man set by the pier,

As the evening ships inwards did steer.

The day was done for all but this one,

For retired now had even the sun.

In discourage and despair he stayed,

By the ominous sea, torn and frayed,

Yet silent now, polished to each coat,

Save the one net that doth alone float.

Now as the moon does conquer the war,

And spill the sun's blood above the shore,

Does a lone figure walk on the waves,

And He alone the blue sea obeys.

Adorned in none but poor cloth and rags,

Yet on the water his feet He drags,

As if some wooden man He's composed,

This God of water here now exposed.

From the water's plains He did proclaim,

In a voice of angels the man's name.

“Cast now your net outwards to the sea,

For in my walk have I felt your plea.”

And the man, not wishing to be rude,

Did kindly to the stranger conclude,

That once more a cast shall matter not,

For fished he had in every spot.

But the aquatic deity said,

That outwards the net should be there spread,

And in the faith of the smallest seed,

He and his family will great feed.

The net was cast, and shattered again,

A billion fragments of ocean thin,

And as the net plunged into abyss,

It met with creatures in perfect bliss.

The net became iron, with heavy pull,

And whence did ascend, of fish 'twas full.

Our friend did leap with great disbelief,

But the stranger interrupted brief,

And, in His wisdom, told to the man,

That many fair riches does faith span.

So it was learned on this young twilight,

Whence the moon and her children take flight,

'Twas near the ocean he did agree,

That he had met Jesus by the sea.

Angelic Visitor

It was midnight in the pale, cold room,

And the mirror showed the fading light.

Dark shadows crossed and did weary fight,

For the kingdom of the pale, bleak gloom.

Twas' in that dark that I did behold,

Though my mind proposed it fancy lies,

And the thing my heart it did surprise,

If ever a claim should be so bold.

Yay, in the shadows a figure gleamed;

A bright ancient being in my home,

The shape of a woman there did rome,

Though halo nor wings was she there themed.

Her beauty was great, surpassing all,

All that man should conspire to compose.

Her fragrance was sweet, like a new rose,

A new rose after a fresh rainfall.

The light I beheld shown through the dark,

And conquered shadows that once did reign,

And I, thinking no more could I gain,

Did begin with my words to embark.

“Visitor,” said I in the midst of gleam,

“Speak your name, oh splenderous being!”

“For now do I grave question my seeing,”

“And ask if I do fancy a dream.”

“Hear,” spoke the lady, whose look like fire,

Did softly harp in her pure, warm voice.

“Hear, for the time comes to make a choice.”

She chimed in sounds as the church's choir.

“I come” proclaimed she, “to speak you truth,”

“Of wisdom sound, safe, and secure.”

“Thus, should you find your heart true and pure,”

“Then speak I words from old ones to youth.”

My mind did blank, unknowing her words,

“What?” questioned I, “Do your lips proclaim?”

“Tis' this a joke, a cruel, sickened game?”

“To lure me out, as worms to the birds?”

“Nay!” boomed she in the most pure, sweet yell,

“Tis' no game that I play with your soul,”

“For the clock has struck to make you whole,”

“To keep your soul from the hot, dark hell.”

And now in my heart, I felt a twitch,

A faint flicker in a dying flame.

“Tell me,” stammered I, “what is your name?”

“And why do you burn so bright and rich?”

“For I have perceived darkness these years,”

“In my eyes and within my dull heart,”

“Tell me why now the aching does start,”

“And why your light in my sight appears.”

And in that vast black sea of dwelling,

As wood creaked and echoed through the halls,

Now the light figure did gently pause,

In black sea sent her mind a'sailing.

“I am of the ancient race of old,”

“Who first saw with God the infant earth.”

“Who sang songs unheard when it gave birth,”
”And beheld life as it did unfold.”

“I burn bright and rich as the Lord spake,”

“A flame made to ever light man's ways.”

“A scintillation in the dark days,”

“A light of hope in the rough storm's wake.”

“Your heart does ache for darkness has spread,”

“It has filled you and bore you shadow,”

“That through your veins goodness should not flow,”

“And turn black all 'twas crimson red.”

“You see now the truth within your eyes;”

“For though you've lived blind all these dark years,”

“And through their blackness cried lonely tears,”

“Now in that darkness shall light arise.”

“The meritorious Father saw,”

“He did so righteously comprehend,”

“That on this night your own dust would end,”

“On bitter blade would you choose to fall.”

“Yay! Behold your salvation does chime!”

“A bell incandescent upon ring,”

“That provides your soul fond notes to sing,”

“In syncopation of ardent time!”

And at this so elegant, pure praise,

There gushed two waterfalls from my lens,

“Now,” thought I then, “my spirit contends,”

“The weight of my sins I cannot raise.”

Then I spoke to the flamed creature,

“Surely have I been darkness' slave.”

“And nearly brought by it to my grave,”

“If not for your great words, dear teacher.”

Then she echoed in the vast expanse,

Of that dark, but hopeful little room,

Where sunshine now began faint to bloom,

And burst forth night and morning's romance.

“Son of man, now unharden your heart,”

The lady of light proceeded then,

“For the new day now starts to seep in,”

“And soon this dimension shall I part.”

“Dear servant of God, hear my great plea!”

I cried as my knees descended down,

“Plead to the God who wears the thorned crown,”

“Forgive me my sins; tis' your decree!”

Then the celestial being knew,

How blind and fragile was I before,

So her bright hand rose me from the floor,

And on me her angelic breath blew.

“Son of man, you need not ask of me,”

“For your sins alone just One can bear,”

“Through blood and torture they can be there,”

“In Christ then now shall you truly see.”

And before I could speak in return,

Her bright illumination did fade,

The shadowed room she soon did evade,

Leaving it there a soft golden burn.

There felt I comfort warm and pleasant,

As I saw with new eyes the birds nesting,

Feeling relief from weights once resting,

And the God in my heart now present.

In ecstasy the thing did unfold,

My vision bathed in colors of new,

So that every rich and blessed hue,

Remembered the bright angel in gold

A Lesson from the Sea

The tide is roaring from the sea,

It is sunset, and all lies still.

The fiery sun begins to flee,

From the night which doth slowly fill.

Seagulls call through the tropic breeze,

And yet still the tide carries on,

Though night's blanket darkens palm trees,

The sacred tide is set in stone.

“Perseverance!” beckons that tide,

Echoing through expansive sea.

And through night the voice doth confide,

The night ocean tide's prophecy.

“Await!” says it now to the earth,

Though men have abandoned the shore;

“Blessed is he who finds my worth!”

“The treasure which I now implore!”

No man waited upon the tide,

But still the tide did arise and fall.

Men did propose that scribes had lied,

Perhaps no treasure lived at all.

But the night's scene did slowly fade,

And persevered till the daylight.

And on the shore where men had laid,

There shone a light's reflection bright.

“Alas!” says the tide, “is the heap,”

“Where lies a treasure of fine gold;”

“Now from the heart of oceans deep,”

“Are riches from stories no more told.”

An Even-Paced Life

Run not too fast! I beg you, please!

And miss the streams, rivers and trees.

The world is large, that much is known,

But its breadth our eyes can never own.

Not each tree can you measure and mark,

Nor in your ears each bird’s song hark.

Each flower’s scent you shall not smell,

Nor in the sea cast ev’ry shell.

Your ship shall not meet ev’ry wave,

Not ev’ry storm will your heart brave.

Some lands will never touch your feet,

For not all goals can your heart meet.

But walk an even pace: then you’ll see,

That the song of life’s great decree

Is not to run a quickened race,

But to walk the earth with even pace.