When God closes a door, He opens a window.
This sword I wield
with strength and skill
This shield I hold,
Humble and ready
I prepare for battle
With hope of victory
I think on my foe,
Great and clever
I wear my armor
With unheard prayers
I astride my horse,
White as a gleaming pearl
Chills touch my heart
With icy fury
Nerves wrack my frame,
Wild and frenzied
I charge into battle
With fear hidden deep
I roar a battle cry
Mighty and berserk
Suddenly in the mud
With blood and screams
Thunder clashes; I've failed...
So completely...
I'm slipping from this world
With despair and acceptance...
I feel an odd sensation
Flying, yet pulled back...
My eyes flutter slightly
With weak curiosity,
But I'm gone once more,
Horror filled slumber
Jolting, I awake
With shouts and alarm!
But I'm in a safe place...
Resting and healing...
Others glance my way
With shakes of their heads
Their eyes show their meaning
Sad disappointment.....
I am crippled
With a door that God has shut
I am broken
No longer whole and free and gallant
Will I take this closed door to heart
With depression and shame?
Shall I give up this relentless fight,
falling into desperation?
Nay, I'll hold fast to what I have left
With true and pure happiness...
Nay, I'll rise up every time a door has shut,
Taking advantage of the open window!
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Despair and Joy
The child wept,
And longed to be free
She craved understanding,
She craved a good home
She wanted to dance and laugh and sing!
She wanted to love, be loved,
And happiness bring!
She knew she was weak
And she knew she had blessings,
Yet crave she did for things out of reach,
Crave she did for what everyone wants!
She wanted a family, a doll, and a cat;
She wanted some shoes, a dress
And a hat.
But not a-one
Were hers to gain.
After all, she was just a weak orphan girl
After all, her mind was thought too sick to heal
The little girl was so distraught!
No one wanted her,
Or that's what she thought.
She thinks she's alone,
But it's so not true
God is there, watching from above!
God is there, loving and hearing prayers!
Soon to understand
God wants her!
Her path is Planned.
The light will soon shine,
The Plan unveiled
She'll be a missionary!
And she'll be a great friend of Christ!
Soon to joyfully see
Loved by more than One
And loving all is soon to be!
And longed to be free
She craved understanding,
She craved a good home
She wanted to dance and laugh and sing!
She wanted to love, be loved,
And happiness bring!
She knew she was weak
And she knew she had blessings,
Yet crave she did for things out of reach,
Crave she did for what everyone wants!
She wanted a family, a doll, and a cat;
She wanted some shoes, a dress
And a hat.
But not a-one
Were hers to gain.
After all, she was just a weak orphan girl
After all, her mind was thought too sick to heal
The little girl was so distraught!
No one wanted her,
Or that's what she thought.
She thinks she's alone,
But it's so not true
God is there, watching from above!
God is there, loving and hearing prayers!
Soon to understand
God wants her!
Her path is Planned.
The light will soon shine,
The Plan unveiled
She'll be a missionary!
And she'll be a great friend of Christ!
Soon to joyfully see
Loved by more than One
And loving all is soon to be!
Monday, June 13, 2011
The Story of Sanguine
She was angry with herself. She'd failed once again. That bloody annoying Sanguine had escaped her grasp for the fourth time! How could she not catch him after so many attempts? She had studied him for three months before even trying to hunt him down! She knew him, knew his thoughts, his motivations, his skills. She knew all known associates he'd worked for in the past, and she knew every person he'd killed. Oh yes, she knew him.
In fact, the very first thing she had read about him was the story of his first murders. He was only 11.
It was late, almost midnight. The boy was tired, but pressed on nonetheless. He had to find his dad. Neither him, nor little Susie had eaten at all today. His mother was weary and blistered. She'd worked hard since dawn til dusk at her knew job, and she refused to even sleep until Henry, her husband, was home from wherever it was he'd been.
The boy's mother was a washer woman. She'd gotten baskets and baskets of strangers' clothing to wash. So, with thoughts of her children in mind, she got to it, dunking and scrubbing, then dunking once more. After that, she would take it and hang it from a line out back, returning to start that laborious process again... and again... and again til her arms were red and raw and her hands covered in blisters. She'd been worked like a dog, only to return home with not enough change to buy even a cup of soup for the family to share.
That's why the blond haired and blue eyed boy had to find his father. Where was he? Why had he not come home this night? He had been coming home later and later every night, but never this late. The boy was beginning to worry.
He spied a bar named The Irate Duckling. He scurried over there, dodging the deadly course of carriages as they hurtled past, horses a-neighing. Why anyone would willingly be out this late, he did not know.
He got to the entrance and pushed open the door, stumbling into an entirely different environment compared to the calm and cool night outside. Laughing, drinking, and wild singing filled his ears, as the smell of old beer and sweat hit him. He ducked down and stepped around two men brawling on the floor, moving over to a less rowdy table. Three men were sitting there. All of them were chatting and guffawing at the others' unbelievable stories. "Excuse me, sirs, but y'all seen a man in his thirties, 'bout 6 feet with blond hair and blue eyes like me?"
"Wha-?" they turned around to look at the boy. One of them, the one sitting on the left with black, choppy hair said, "No, now go away! This ain't no place for a child!" Then he turned back around and said the punchline of his joke, which made no since to the boy having not heard it, and burst out laughing. He sighed and moved on to another table, asking the same question and getting the same response.
Having talked to the men sober enough to understand his question and getting negative results, the boy left to search for his father elsewhere. He roamed the dark streets, going up and down them and being careful to avoid any dark alleyways which housed gangs and thieves.
On the next street he heard chatter and music. Another bar. The boy moved between two houses and onto that street, following the sound up the road a bit. It was another bar. This one was called Cosher Tavern . He stepped in.
The atmosphere was generally the same, singing, laughing, and drinking. He asked the same question at the first table he came up to. This time, though, the answer was different. "Oh, you mean Henry?"
Butterflies fluttered in the boy's belly. "Yes! That's him! Where is he?" The men glanced at each other and chuckled. "Well, boy, 'e's upstairs with Sally... I wouldn't bother 'im right now if I was you, he's busy."
The boy was confused. What did they mean by "busy?" He shrugged. "Well, awright and thanks, lads." The men returned to their beer as if it was a long lost love, and the boy gazed around the room in search of some stairs. There they were, over on that wall. He maneuvered through the crowd to them and ascended.
It was quieter up here, the noise from below was more like a rumbling and murmuring. He glanced back, slightly nervous at the thought of searching for his father in one of the rooms down this dark and empty hall. He took a step, the floor creaking beneath him. He stood in front of the first door and raised his hand hesitantly to knock. What if there was a murderer in there, thirsty for more blood, and just waiting for some dumb person to bother him so he could wring his neck, or stab his chest or slash his throat, or... maybe he would want it to be slow and would draw out a dull knife with no hurry and begin to carefully carve- no! He mustn't think like that. He must find his dad!
He shook his head and stood a bit taller with determination in his eyes and knocked. No answer. He knocked again, a bit louder. Nothing. The boy sighed with relief and moved on to the next door. No answer again. Next door. An old lady with a half knitted scarf opened the door. "Oh, sorry, Ma'am, I was lookin' fer someone else. You wouldn't happen to know which room is being used for a man in his thirties, 'bout 6 feet, with blond hair and blue eyes like me, would you?"
The lady harrumphed and pointed down the hall. He smiled, "Thank you, kindly." And she slammed the door. The boy shrugged and happily walked to the door the lady had specified. He raised his hand and knocked. No answer. He shrugged again and opened the door, knowing his dad would be in there.
It swung open on slightly creaky hinges and... there he was, standing beside a bed and facing away from the boy! Finally, he'd found him! He opened his mouth, planning to question where he'd been this whole time and how they really needed him back home and he's so glad he's alright and... Wait, why doesn't he have a shirt on? And... why is that girl in there? She must be Sally... She's probably a maid preparing a bath for his dad. Yes, that had to be it, but... why is she wrapping her arms around his neck... and his around her back. Now they're... kissing... no... they can't be.... and they're falling onto the bed. He's... he's cheating on Mum... He couldn't! He wouldn't! He surely could not leave his children at home to starve and his wife alone to work herself to death trying to feed them!
But he was.
Anger wafted over him and boiled inside. It grew and stormed in his chest. It devoured his soul. He looked down, hands clenched and heart smothered in darkness. When he looked up again, his eyes were black and empty. Never again would his eye sockets hold vibrant blue orbs. Oh no, they would hold nothing, and they would hold every bit of love he now held for his father.
His feet sunk into the boards beneath, soon followed by the rest of him. He appeared for a second next to his father's clothes and withdrew the straight razor he always carried with him, then disappeared below the boards once more. On the other side of the bed he grew out of the ground, razor in hand. "Hello, Father." The man jumped and looked up, "What are you doing here? Get out!" He glared at him angrily before noticing something off with his face as Sally tried to cover herself. "What's... wrong with your eyes?"
The boy scowled. "I just wanted you to know by who's hands your death has come. My name is now Billy-ray Sanguine."
"Wha-"
Sanguine slashed and his father's blood gushed out of his throat. Sally shrieked for two whole seconds before the razor slashed her neck as well, cutting her off as she gurgled and drowned in her own blood. He looked down at the two of them laying on top of one another and bleeding out their life, and realized he had become the murderer he was so afraid of.
In fact, the very first thing she had read about him was the story of his first murders. He was only 11.
It was late, almost midnight. The boy was tired, but pressed on nonetheless. He had to find his dad. Neither him, nor little Susie had eaten at all today. His mother was weary and blistered. She'd worked hard since dawn til dusk at her knew job, and she refused to even sleep until Henry, her husband, was home from wherever it was he'd been.
The boy's mother was a washer woman. She'd gotten baskets and baskets of strangers' clothing to wash. So, with thoughts of her children in mind, she got to it, dunking and scrubbing, then dunking once more. After that, she would take it and hang it from a line out back, returning to start that laborious process again... and again... and again til her arms were red and raw and her hands covered in blisters. She'd been worked like a dog, only to return home with not enough change to buy even a cup of soup for the family to share.
That's why the blond haired and blue eyed boy had to find his father. Where was he? Why had he not come home this night? He had been coming home later and later every night, but never this late. The boy was beginning to worry.
He spied a bar named The Irate Duckling. He scurried over there, dodging the deadly course of carriages as they hurtled past, horses a-neighing. Why anyone would willingly be out this late, he did not know.
He got to the entrance and pushed open the door, stumbling into an entirely different environment compared to the calm and cool night outside. Laughing, drinking, and wild singing filled his ears, as the smell of old beer and sweat hit him. He ducked down and stepped around two men brawling on the floor, moving over to a less rowdy table. Three men were sitting there. All of them were chatting and guffawing at the others' unbelievable stories. "Excuse me, sirs, but y'all seen a man in his thirties, 'bout 6 feet with blond hair and blue eyes like me?"
"Wha-?" they turned around to look at the boy. One of them, the one sitting on the left with black, choppy hair said, "No, now go away! This ain't no place for a child!" Then he turned back around and said the punchline of his joke, which made no since to the boy having not heard it, and burst out laughing. He sighed and moved on to another table, asking the same question and getting the same response.
Having talked to the men sober enough to understand his question and getting negative results, the boy left to search for his father elsewhere. He roamed the dark streets, going up and down them and being careful to avoid any dark alleyways which housed gangs and thieves.
On the next street he heard chatter and music. Another bar. The boy moved between two houses and onto that street, following the sound up the road a bit. It was another bar. This one was called Cosher Tavern . He stepped in.
The atmosphere was generally the same, singing, laughing, and drinking. He asked the same question at the first table he came up to. This time, though, the answer was different. "Oh, you mean Henry?"
Butterflies fluttered in the boy's belly. "Yes! That's him! Where is he?" The men glanced at each other and chuckled. "Well, boy, 'e's upstairs with Sally... I wouldn't bother 'im right now if I was you, he's busy."
The boy was confused. What did they mean by "busy?" He shrugged. "Well, awright and thanks, lads." The men returned to their beer as if it was a long lost love, and the boy gazed around the room in search of some stairs. There they were, over on that wall. He maneuvered through the crowd to them and ascended.
It was quieter up here, the noise from below was more like a rumbling and murmuring. He glanced back, slightly nervous at the thought of searching for his father in one of the rooms down this dark and empty hall. He took a step, the floor creaking beneath him. He stood in front of the first door and raised his hand hesitantly to knock. What if there was a murderer in there, thirsty for more blood, and just waiting for some dumb person to bother him so he could wring his neck, or stab his chest or slash his throat, or... maybe he would want it to be slow and would draw out a dull knife with no hurry and begin to carefully carve- no! He mustn't think like that. He must find his dad!
He shook his head and stood a bit taller with determination in his eyes and knocked. No answer. He knocked again, a bit louder. Nothing. The boy sighed with relief and moved on to the next door. No answer again. Next door. An old lady with a half knitted scarf opened the door. "Oh, sorry, Ma'am, I was lookin' fer someone else. You wouldn't happen to know which room is being used for a man in his thirties, 'bout 6 feet, with blond hair and blue eyes like me, would you?"
The lady harrumphed and pointed down the hall. He smiled, "Thank you, kindly." And she slammed the door. The boy shrugged and happily walked to the door the lady had specified. He raised his hand and knocked. No answer. He shrugged again and opened the door, knowing his dad would be in there.
It swung open on slightly creaky hinges and... there he was, standing beside a bed and facing away from the boy! Finally, he'd found him! He opened his mouth, planning to question where he'd been this whole time and how they really needed him back home and he's so glad he's alright and... Wait, why doesn't he have a shirt on? And... why is that girl in there? She must be Sally... She's probably a maid preparing a bath for his dad. Yes, that had to be it, but... why is she wrapping her arms around his neck... and his around her back. Now they're... kissing... no... they can't be.... and they're falling onto the bed. He's... he's cheating on Mum... He couldn't! He wouldn't! He surely could not leave his children at home to starve and his wife alone to work herself to death trying to feed them!
But he was.
Anger wafted over him and boiled inside. It grew and stormed in his chest. It devoured his soul. He looked down, hands clenched and heart smothered in darkness. When he looked up again, his eyes were black and empty. Never again would his eye sockets hold vibrant blue orbs. Oh no, they would hold nothing, and they would hold every bit of love he now held for his father.
His feet sunk into the boards beneath, soon followed by the rest of him. He appeared for a second next to his father's clothes and withdrew the straight razor he always carried with him, then disappeared below the boards once more. On the other side of the bed he grew out of the ground, razor in hand. "Hello, Father." The man jumped and looked up, "What are you doing here? Get out!" He glared at him angrily before noticing something off with his face as Sally tried to cover herself. "What's... wrong with your eyes?"
The boy scowled. "I just wanted you to know by who's hands your death has come. My name is now Billy-ray Sanguine."
"Wha-"
Sanguine slashed and his father's blood gushed out of his throat. Sally shrieked for two whole seconds before the razor slashed her neck as well, cutting her off as she gurgled and drowned in her own blood. He looked down at the two of them laying on top of one another and bleeding out their life, and realized he had become the murderer he was so afraid of.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Fireflies
A spark in the darkness
A light
In the night
A glow in the black
Dancing
Prancing
It weaves and spins
It dips
And tips
It's joined by others
Playing
And swaying
They light up the dark
All of them aglow
They put on a show
A girl and her dad walk by
Unawares
With awe she stares
She smiles with delight
Filled with glee
"It's so pretty!"
But then a question comes to mind
Her brow does knit
"Papa, what is it?"
Her dad looks down with a gentle smile
As he replies
"My dear, they're fireflies!"
A light
In the night
A glow in the black
Dancing
Prancing
It weaves and spins
It dips
And tips
It's joined by others
Playing
And swaying
They light up the dark
All of them aglow
They put on a show
A girl and her dad walk by
Unawares
With awe she stares
She smiles with delight
Filled with glee
"It's so pretty!"
But then a question comes to mind
Her brow does knit
"Papa, what is it?"
Her dad looks down with a gentle smile
As he replies
"My dear, they're fireflies!"
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Gothic Storm
By the way, it's not about a song. I just threw that last line in there... I don't even know of there is a song called that :P
I actually wanted to say "Radioactive Decay" because that sounds so epica, and more gothic-y, but it didn't flow very well... so I put in the name of the rhyme instead :]
****
Moaning wind
Weeping skies
What a delightful day!
Her black lips twitch
An almost smile
At the roar of thunder out there
Lightening flashes
Lights flicker
Excitement flares deep down
The Goth Girl stands
And leaves the room
To venture into her storm
She creeps outside
She lay in it's midst.
She gazes at chaos, almost with pride.
Thunder does boom!
Rain does lash!
Lightening bedazzles her eyes!
Goth Girl watches all
With some satisfaction
Ah, the Queen of the Tempests!
Alas, the rain slows!
It comes to stop,
And clouds begin to dissipate
So away scampers she
To wait for more rain
Headphones a-playing, "The Gothic Storm"
I actually wanted to say "Radioactive Decay" because that sounds so epica, and more gothic-y, but it didn't flow very well... so I put in the name of the rhyme instead :]
****
Moaning wind
Weeping skies
What a delightful day!
Her black lips twitch
An almost smile
At the roar of thunder out there
Lightening flashes
Lights flicker
Excitement flares deep down
The Goth Girl stands
And leaves the room
To venture into her storm
She creeps outside
She lay in it's midst.
She gazes at chaos, almost with pride.
Thunder does boom!
Rain does lash!
Lightening bedazzles her eyes!
Goth Girl watches all
With some satisfaction
Ah, the Queen of the Tempests!
Alas, the rain slows!
It comes to stop,
And clouds begin to dissipate
So away scampers she
To wait for more rain
Headphones a-playing, "The Gothic Storm"
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Betrayer Forgiven
Don't you like the word incognito?
I like that word...
It reminds me of someone,
But I can't remember who....
****
Oh, she cried
Oh, she sighed
Would she ever be the same?
Could she even say his name?
No, she Would not
And no, she Could not
He had left her all alone there,
Left to cry and sigh and moan there.
Left to think about the past they'd shared.
Did she think he'd ever even cared?
Yes, she had.
Oh, how sad.
How could she be that naive?
Did she really think he wouldn't leave?
No, she knew he would.
To settle down, he never could.
Alas, to him she'd given her trust,
And now he's left her in the dust
"But," she told herself, "Not again!"
She'd fall no more to the lies of men!
He was gone.
She'd move on.
Her eyes still wet, she shaky stood.
Her mind was sharp, her heart was good.
Anger there was non-existent,
For she knew he would be penitent
So she lit a light and cooked a meal
She knew her wounds would eventually heal
To God's Word she will indeed listen
Yes, the Betrayer will be forgiven
And on this night, and nights there after,
She'll pray to God for his health and laughter
I like that word...
It reminds me of someone,
But I can't remember who....
****
Oh, she cried
Oh, she sighed
Would she ever be the same?
Could she even say his name?
No, she Would not
And no, she Could not
He had left her all alone there,
Left to cry and sigh and moan there.
Left to think about the past they'd shared.
Did she think he'd ever even cared?
Yes, she had.
Oh, how sad.
How could she be that naive?
Did she really think he wouldn't leave?
No, she knew he would.
To settle down, he never could.
Alas, to him she'd given her trust,
And now he's left her in the dust
"But," she told herself, "Not again!"
She'd fall no more to the lies of men!
He was gone.
She'd move on.
Her eyes still wet, she shaky stood.
Her mind was sharp, her heart was good.
Anger there was non-existent,
For she knew he would be penitent
So she lit a light and cooked a meal
She knew her wounds would eventually heal
To God's Word she will indeed listen
Yes, the Betrayer will be forgiven
And on this night, and nights there after,
She'll pray to God for his health and laughter
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Caelan
I hope y'all like this, and if anyone has any suggestions for writing stuff better, please, do tell! :] And I'm truly going to try to focus on my fan-fiction soon! I really will!
Really...
Maybe...
Probably......
Well, you know, we'll see how it goes xD
***
He is one who many do shun
Even when plunged under the sun
The guardian angel comes in daylight,
But at night the monster thrives.
Like him become with just a bite;
No one likes this blood-sucking knight.
His love he gives to only one,
And yet he's left in isolation
Waiting, he stands beneath the trees
To try her blood and steal a kiss,
And soon it happens upon the leaves,
But to her boyfriend she quickly flees.
Sadly alone once more he stands there,
Sweetly recalling the smell of her hair,
But with her red blood still on his lips
His love, the monster hunts tonight,
And as the sun descends and dips
Away to his dark and barred cage he slips.
"Stop!" to the monster, he does beseech,
But it shoves good Caelan far from reach.
Roaring and angry the night will pass by,
Vampire trapped in it's cage yet again.
All through the darkness, the bars it shall pry
It howls at the light, a vicious cry
Caelan at dawn, with new skin will arise
An idea in his mind, oh how wise!
There's something he wants to attain
An acquaintance of his'll be threatened.
Great pain for this man he will fain.
And what in the end shall he gain?
Why, no less, than a serum of Wolfsbane!
Really...
Maybe...
Probably......
Well, you know, we'll see how it goes xD
***
He is one who many do shun
Even when plunged under the sun
The guardian angel comes in daylight,
But at night the monster thrives.
Like him become with just a bite;
No one likes this blood-sucking knight.
His love he gives to only one,
And yet he's left in isolation
Waiting, he stands beneath the trees
To try her blood and steal a kiss,
And soon it happens upon the leaves,
But to her boyfriend she quickly flees.
Sadly alone once more he stands there,
Sweetly recalling the smell of her hair,
But with her red blood still on his lips
His love, the monster hunts tonight,
And as the sun descends and dips
Away to his dark and barred cage he slips.
"Stop!" to the monster, he does beseech,
But it shoves good Caelan far from reach.
Roaring and angry the night will pass by,
Vampire trapped in it's cage yet again.
All through the darkness, the bars it shall pry
It howls at the light, a vicious cry
Caelan at dawn, with new skin will arise
An idea in his mind, oh how wise!
There's something he wants to attain
An acquaintance of his'll be threatened.
Great pain for this man he will fain.
And what in the end shall he gain?
Why, no less, than a serum of Wolfsbane!
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