dripping drool kisses

drizzled with sticky syrup

hugs all covered with

gooey hands filled with the hearts

of my sweet, sweet valentines

…………………………………………………………..

This poem was my attempt at a Tanka, a form being explored today at One Stop Poetry. Visit their site to read more poems and add your own: http://onestoppoetry.com/2011/02/one-stop-poetry-form-todays-form-is-tanka.html

e·piph·a·ny [ih-pif-uh-nee] –noun, plural -nies.

a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience.

(This word has a few other meanings as well, but I have chosen to highlight my favorite way to use it. You can explore all of the meanings of the word here: http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/epiphany)

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

I first encountered this word in Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce, when Stephen Dedalus has an epiphany about his love of beauty and his life as an artist. It was an epiphany for me to discover that there was actually a word to describe this experience. They are those moments when you are just doing the normal, everyday thing and something that you see or hear shifts the whole universe and the real meaning of yourself in relation to it is exposed.

My first epiphany happened in my senior year of high school. It was the end of my senior year, and we were watching the movie The Razor’s Edge based on the book of this name by Somerset Maugham. The story of Larry Darrell searching for meaning in his life really moved me. At that time, I was also searching for transcendent meaning, but questions about God and spirituality were not encouraged. I saw myself in Larry Darrell. I saw that my questions weren’t wrong. I vowed at that moment to keep asking the questions no matter what. It was a life-changing moment for me and still characterizes the way I live my life.

One of my poems that uses this word can be found here: https://karlaspoetry.wordpress.com/2011/01/13/epiphany-light-and-water/

What about you? Have you ever had an epiphany? Have you ever described an epiphany in your writing?

I hope that you’ll join me each Friday as I discuss my favorite words.

I want mom to love me more than she needs to get stoned

Hush little baby, don’t you see

Your mommy’s sold your soul to me

I want her to love me more than she needs

Hush little baby, don’t say a word

Your mommy’s gone, you won’t be heard

I want her to love me more

Hush little baby, don’t you cry

Your mommy’s at home getting high

I want her to love me

Hush little baby, don’t you whine

Your mommy said your body’s mine

I want her to love

Hush little baby, don’t you scream

Here’s a little something, make you feel like a dream

I want her

.

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

This poem was written for One Shot Wednesday, hosted by One Stop Poetry at

http://onestoppoetry.com/2011/02/one-shot-wednesday-week-32-hosted-by-moondustwriter-2.html

Once belief is broken,

promises become lies

and idols are toppled,

revealed as scraps of wood

whose worthlessness cries out

to be worshiped,

not loved.

……………………………….

This poem was written in response to a poetry prompt from Robert Lee Brewer at http://blog.writersdigest.com/poeticasides/CategoryView,category,PoetryPrompts.aspx

In the desert, show me your fire.

Call my name and draw me near.

All I want is your desire.

.

Who am I that you would require

survival through my deepest fear?

In the desert, show me your fire.

.

Take my sight to something higher

than the pain that makes my path unclear.

All I want is your desire.

.

Will the doubt that comes in the darkest hour

condemn me to wander year after year?

In the desert, show me your fire.

.

Though this life has never felt drier,

you can make me flower here.

All I want is your desire.

.

In the promised land to which I aspire,

your hand wipes away every tear.

In the desert, show me your fire.

All I want is your desire.

………………………………………….

Written as a venture into the villanelle form as featured on One Stop Poetry http://oneshotpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/01/monday-one-stop-poetry-form-villanelle.html

At mid-day,

while the wildish wind hums

and the trees keep slow swaying time,

the Sun likes singing

an intense, but gentle song

to the Lake of Hokkaido;

for she listens with deep appreciation,

absorbing his vibrant yellow tones

as they call forth

the deepest green of trees,

the most brilliant blue of sky,

the warmest glow of gold,

until she is filled

with warm, clear light.

.

Then, glowing with gold,

resplendent with green,

radiant with blue,

she proudly reveals

her bottom of mud and stone,

her shape,

her depth,

in a tranquil, undulating song

that tells of her joy

at finally being known.

.

And in this duet

of peaceful,

passionate resonance,

Light and Water

find themselves more splendid

in each other.

.

.

This poem was written for One Shot Wednesday at One Stop Poetry–Where Poets, Writers and Artists Meet.  To read more poets and submit your own work, connect here: http://oneshotpoetry.blogspot.com/2011/01/one-shot-wednesday-week-28.html

A night of cool reflection

brings the Lake of Hokkaido once again

to this moment

of patient anticipation

when the gallant Sun

pulls himself slowly

over her mountains

and with quiet knowing

of the places that need gentle awakening,

touches her lightly,

first here,

then there,

until he sees

the pale pink blush

and tremulous ripples

that encourage him to climb higher

and peer into her more deeply,

pulling from her inviting blackness

shades of indigo, orange, and gold.

.

She loves the warmth of him

that penetrates beyond her reflection

and moves her to sing again

of the heights of mountains,

the whisperings of trees,

the secrets of limitless sky

.

She loves his light

that moves her to reflection

and deepens the peace

of her darkness.

After hours of mournful solitude,

of hanging in the black sky

feeling only the loneliness

and weight of its omniscience,

the Moon, at last, returns

to the mystic hollow

of the Lake of Hokkaido

to sing of the sadness of human souls.

.

And the Lake,

being a soft, wise woman

of imperceptible depths,

listens,

holds,

and in her darkness

transforms

the Moon’s lament

into a powerful song of reflection.

Memories in boxes

stored in strangers’ houses,

necessities packed,

checked into this flight home

from our poverty of means

to face our challenges.

One more step ’til I am gone,

one last chance for you to say you love me…

.

in silence, you let me go

You sit among the ruins

of a past you wish would die,

a past you tried to bury

under sky-scraping idols

you thought were made of steel.

But they all toppled,

they all fell down,

until everything you knew

was reduced to rubble.

.

You wail against this devastation

of your deepest dreams,

as the ancient serpent slithers around you

and tempts you to believe

that it is God

who has abandoned you

to this wasteland,

that He was the one

who condemned you

to this darkness,

this lifeless living.

.

But He has never forgotten you.

He calls you by name…

.

And in your tortured soul

stirs a Hope, a longing to be free

from this wreckage

where the serpent reigns,

where you are bound

to your broken past.

.

You cry out

to the One

who has always loved you,

your Redeemer, Yeshua,

who died so that you might live.

He calls you into His light,

and with His steadfast love

breaks your chains,

and rebuilds your ruins

with the precious stones

of His kingdom.

 

Breaking Free, a painting by Judy Gilbert