In the mood...

Since I am on a roll, posting poems like they're going out of style, I figured that I might as well share one more. I originally composed this poem while in the LDS Missionary Training Center in 2003. I must offer a forewarning, however, to any who wishes to read on... this one's a bit different!

The Pleas-er Key-er

A stretched band of pearls, more white, less black;
glimmering, shimmering with glossy glaze glow.
The shiny smooth slicks at rest level lay;
a test for any best jester’s festering folly.

Who it allows or tries surely sees
these pleading, pleasing keys freeze and unlock doors,
scores of jump, trip, fly: Higher, High, Highest.

Here they are (were/will be) to break bleak stares’ silents;
10 marching soldiers, heavy feet falling boulders old orders filling,
called to attention on the spiffy spring-board platforms: ready
to start the game of the skip-hop bop stop tumbling flinging
like the singing of gymnasts’ flurry whirling dervish.

And then;
Snapped Nerves!
pulsing plunging pistons to the floor
of black and white marble tiles descending and bending;
the tricky tune pealed revealed by hot-potato palms,
a skitter-skat carnival tap like Kelly’s nimbles
slap the please! more! melodies out of the pleas dead gone.

Such sing and song dance trance of spazzy jazz romance
(from the clinking Chico pointers piercing people’s persons)
skis carving cutting the crisp, slippy slope still,
just missing, some kissing the sharp shark rocks, flats;
a spickle-spackle tackle spilling ‘Kovsky collide-o-scope
of Gehry’s wilting waves braves the paving road of rhyme
keeping time interred, fossil bones and stones and watches
tick notes not seen written on his mind forever.

The relays plays on a click beetle banter brocade
of olden golden melodies molten inspired never tired;
yet the carrier’s charisma cuts canst last,
past hours piled towers over waning wands’ wishes.

Ever bold, ever brilliant, bright, bristling warm,
was the storm (now subsided) of the pride praised picture song.

So gone is the giver grower of this glamorous glimmer?
Yes; retired the player his players the sound.

But;
Will the ever end-thusiasm?


ASC 4/24/05 - I revised this poem upon returning home from the mission. 7/11/09 - I just added one word... the one that was missing all this time!

Another small assortment of poetry

I was digging around today and came across these little rhymes, both written while in Church a couple years ago:

A poem for myself to mix rhyme with reason

The purest mind,
cannot tell,
of Adam's fate,
or whence he fell.

But I,
in simple ignorance,
have joy,
through his beneficence.


Dear God

Dear God,
What ever shall I do?
My forefathers were humbly strong in reverence to thee;
Can I be so too?

Is there a sacred citadel,
far from the reach of sin?
For if thou wilt, oh God, my God,
I would to dwell therein!