Ephesians Poem

The storms will never quit
On this desolate earthen bit
Here where the devil roams
Stirrin sand, fire n dust
But I know,
–Even within earth’s moans
That he will only come to rust
For the One in whom I trust
Can stop every burn and gust
And not only this!
He also truly is
The Lord of lords and King of kings!

And the God who always brings
Every promise and word to pass
Sent him to become my pass
Into heaven, into home
Into family and eternity
So we no longer roam
Nor live with cursed enmity
Instead we rejoice in His grace
While our hearts learn our new place
Beside the risen Christ
Above evil in Christ
As brothers and sisters in one accord
Sons and daughters under one Lord
And God’s treasure forevermore.

A little something

A poem, a journal, and an unfinished story. Help me finish it, won’t you?

I was thinking about poetry slams
I was thinking about politics and saints
Left to right and front seats
Wishing the window was open
Suffocating with cats and birds

Normally you hear about people reading or seeing or whatevering and being inspired. Well, a lot of times I see or read or whatever and am uninspired. You know, I’ll be browsing the blogosphere one moment and find all this beautiful, full of life, truth, love, whatever stuff, and then I’ll find some article written full of pride, anger, hate, or just stupidity, and I think, “If that can be posted online… then everything I write is probably worse.”

And then other times I’m like, “I’m freakin’ awesome ’cause I write way better than that.” and all my grammar and english skills and everything just end. cause I set lower standards for myself.

So, I decided, that I think I’m going to reread Lord of the Rings. Because that is some good writing there. No idea where I’m going with any of this. I just felt like writing a simple little post after sifting through random stuff on the internet.


So, back to the here and now. I’m gonna force myself to write something somewhat creative, so I can feel a lot better about myself for having at least written something. Ultimate question of the last few months: How long does writer’s block last before you are no longer a writer? I’m not responding to that with some, “Being a writer is simply part of who I am (whether or not I’ve been practicing at all recently)” bullshit. I don’t typically give myself leeway on things like this. Thankfully, I got really drunk the other night and actually wrote something in the midst of emotions involving family affairs and missing my boyfriend that was decent. And decent is stretching it. The first few lines of that freewrite started this post. So now. Imma shuddup and see what can be typed. Because, even though every first draft is worse than manure cat pee skunk sweating dumpster smell, what makes me a writer is fucking writing.

In the rain she could feel at home, and could is the key word. It didn’t always hold her with warm summer arms and remind her that the feeling of tears–even if they are only the sky’s–can be peaceful. When either she or the rain couldn’t capture that perfect caress (maybe the wind interfered: ice shards piercing instead), the rain became a perfect hell. It was the disappointment that meddled. If the rain would have been more kind today, maybe heaven would be there instead, but the anticipation of that comforting caress had been ruined.

However the rain was ruined, it didn’t matter. She looked to her feet, which shuffled in a puddle on her gravel driveway. Life was always to be lived. With a breath of water and air, she opened her car door and let the dry enclosure purge her of the disappointing rain that clattered on her rusting car.

And that’s all I’ve got for right now. Tell me, where should she be heading? What is the life that she must live? I’d like some help with this story. Thank you!

-Katherine Z

Tanka: Corolla

Slide across white lines
Rubber is slick; glass is cracked
An update is due
For my darling Toyota
Before we take to the coast

P.S. I write this while I wait at Belle Tire for a whole new set of tires. The longer winter has progressed, the more my nearly worn treads have brought me closer to a demise I actually would not choose. So, I’m finally here, sitting in a lobby with football on the TV and a Sugar Glider in my pocket.

This year has been good to me thus far. 🙂 Everyone stay safe as the driveable surfaces upon Michigan roads diminish!