NaPoWriMo, Day 3

"some days this armor"
some days this armor's too heavy to hold
my spirit is weakened, i'm beaten, worn down
but the battle continues, if i'm weak or i'm bold
and i just want to let my sword drop to the ground
remove this thick breastplate and kick off my shoes
toss my shield aside, for a moment run free
feel the wind lick my hair and forget the rough noose
ever present and trying to asphyxiate me
so i sigh, hang my head - this must be what paul meant
when he asked for the thorn to be pulled from his side
but i, just like him, must look for the God-sent
glory and mercy, and lay down my pride.
(but just for a moment - a second at least -
a part of me hungers to savor the feast
laid before me, but only exciting in thought
for i know that tasting it would come to naught.)

NaPoWriMo, Day 2

I'm a little behind (thanks to a lovely visit from out-of-town family), so I am attempting to catch up.

"absence"

absence reigns like a bastard king
who cut down the royal family
to steal the power of the throne 
cruel and cold and unjust and 
so unfortunately 
obvious 
flaunting his rings of forgetting 
his diadem of disputing 
his robes of not-caring 
he drives through the city streets 
surrounded by his silent, steadfast army
blocking the pathways at every turn 
blocking my way to
you 
absence is a cruel king 
and your tryst with him makes me 
hate him even more

© 2014 Amy Lutes

NaPoWriMo, Day 1

Hey! It's National Poetry Writing Month!

I've ventured into the realms of National Novel Writing Month during several Novembers in the past, but this is the first time I've ever participated in NaPoWriMo. I will be posting an original poem each day here for your reading pleasure. Hopefully you enjoy them. But if not, it's okay. It's really for me, anyway. :)

Up first, for Day 1: "soft fall the blossoms"

soft fall the blossoms on shore
the harbor empty of its ships
but i still stand here waiting for
the farewell fire to leave my lips

his arms were iron 'round my waist
and tears dripped hotly from my eyes
his face was inches from my face
obscuring all the bluer skies

my heart will not forget this hour
my body won't forget his love
but still i stand upon this shore
await some sign from God above

that he's protected, he'll be home
that journeys find him safe and free
my heart awaits the day he'll come
back to the harbor, back to me

© Amy Lutes, 2014

there lived a little plant that feared the sun -

there lived a little plant that feared the sun -
below the ground, the sun's light was not known;
in tales, its heat and brightness often grown
unbearable, to frighten little ones.


the plant, in fear, determined to forgo
the food that would its roots and branches feed
and cowered instead below, staying a seed
and trying desperately not to grow,


'til, shriveled, trembling, a tendril found
a way beyond the plant's weak consciousness
and, creeping, creeping toward the bright surface,
pushed through the soil, making not a sound.


and suddenly the plant awoke in fright
not knowing how, or why, or when, or who
had caused the creeping tendril to push through
and bare the plant's poor state before the light.


it searched for shade and, finding none, then tried
retreating back into its soil grave
but, failing, found instead the bright sun gave
vitality and life to what had died.


the tendril, reaching further toward the sun,
began to pull upon the deeper shoots
'til, stretching, seeking, furling out its roots,
the plant exulted in its freedom won.


"why did you fear me?" asked the sun the plant.
"i did not know you, and i was afraid
to leave the comfort of my home in shade.
i feared you would be painful to withstand."


"a plant that has not light can never grow -
it needs the light as creatures need the air.
but fear not - light is beautiful and fair
and seeks to fill your needs to make you whole."


"i now can see the earth in which i stand
determines much of who i will become.
also the food, as well as rains that come,
help me to be the best plant that i can.


but i cannot stay down there all my life,
or - as it happens - short my life will be.
and so i thank you for reviving me
and saving me from death, and pain, and strife."


and so, with nourishment from earth and rain
and sun together, tall and strong it grew,
until the small, limited life it knew
seemed but a memory of tiny pain.


the plant now greets the sun's bright morning rise
with jubilation, gratefulness, and love,
reaching its branches to the light above,
and adding to the beauty of the skies.





breakdown

"i'm pregnant."

two words
that can hold so much
joy
but yet so much
ammunition
when fired at you
unintentionally.

the questions come:

why not me?

i thought that
sex + ovulation day = baby?

why can fourteen-year-olds
have healthy pregnancies,
but my baby died?

why did my water break early?

why couldn't she wait just
a few more days?

why?
why?
why?
why?
why?

self-pity.
self-loathing for the fact that you're
not entirely happy.
guilt.
anger.
impatience.

warning:
nervous system overload.
shutting down in
three...
two...
one...