Tag: poem a day

#7 – The Stafford Challenge: Coming Back

So … after a seven-month break (yikes) from the Stafford Challenge, I feel the Lord guiding me back to writing poetry. Not only writing poetry, but continuing this challenge (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, check out this post). I know most of the year has gone, but the beauty of this challenge is that it’s never too late to start. Even if you don’t pick up a pen until the last week of December, you will have accomplished writing seven brand-new poems for the year, which is a lot more than zero.

Here’s my poem for the day. It was based off a devotional journaling prompt I came across: “I’m coming back to you, Jesus.”

Coming Back

Dark days cover like a hard blanket, worn out from much use. No longer soft or enjoyable to the touch, a comfortless reminder of the past when sin used to feel home-like. The dog in me wants to return to its vomit stains, live that carefree life of self, where I could laugh so hard that I couldn’t see the pit where I was kept, mucking around in filth. Like a pig with brains, but the brains don’t help. Just makes you aware of your pigginess. And then, the day’s blanket got a little warmer, covering my cold, naked skin. It reminded me of something else, like if I dug a little deeper into those folds, shrunk down and climbed into the fibers, some sweet, gentle voice would find me, telling me that I’m His child and that I need to come home.

Day 3: The Stafford Challenge (Or the SC?)

I just posted last night, but I’m getting a head start today on The Stafford Challenge (you can read about The Stafford Challenge in my first post). I’m starting to think that writing out “The Stafford Challenge” is a little cumbersome. I might start calling in “The SC” or “The Sta-Cha” or “The Staff-Chall” or “The artist formerly known as The Stafford Challenge,” I don’t know …. Any way, I digress.

Yesterday was my birthday (my 40th birthday! Yikes.) So that was primarily the inspiration for today’s poem. Something I love about poetry, even more than short stories, is the way you can use a poem to create an experience, almost like a painting or photograph, where you just take one scene, one moment, and reveal something profound there. I’m not saying I’m always successful at it, or that this is always my goal with a poem, but I love the potential.

Day 3!

Birthday Fog

Bright bushy camellias turn brown overnight
when the Earth takes a cold turn.
I needed something warm today, light, less gray.
It’s my birthday, you know, God, show a little love.
It’s my birthday and the town turned sopping wet,
the narrow road slick under thick boots.
Overcast gloomy warm in January in a sort of muggy way
that leaves the leaves brown my heart longing and writhing in self pity
like that fat ugly worm on the driveway.
But in this endless cloud of gray warmth
the flowers killed by the world’s ice are coming out again from their tight buds,
letting go and dappling the fog with pink and red and pure-as-heaven white.
The Lord says the clouds are coming
and the gray cloud isn’t always something to lament.
Camellias peel back their full color even while their dead sisters linger,
reminders that He is bringing the dead back to life.
That even the flowers ache to find the light of the King’s face.