jump to navigation

Oblation July 5, 2013

Posted by findingherforte in poetry, writing.
Tags: , , , , , , , ,
add a comment

Through painted glass
it watches music
rise to meet the
ceilings tall
Hungrily, it waits
unmoving
whilst reed and wood
prepare its meal

Although opaque
the window view,
the subtle things
catch its eye
The ebb and flow
of waves of sound
a pleading voice,
a servant’s cry

A hum of air
against the walls
the wind it roars
its loud applause
Dancing rain upon
the roof
cheering loud
and without pause

A deity with
open arms
as if to catch
the divine sound
Made from earth
and hands of man
a purer art
cannot be found

Core April 1, 2013

Posted by findingherforte in poetry, writing.
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,
1 comment so far

It goes beyond
the foundational crust
It’s biological, it’s
part of us
It’s the chemistry of
carefully mixed parts
and checking your
math. Twice.

It is shaped by us
and, in turn, shapes us
the world moves to
many rhythms,
tripled and mixed,
but all in sync
and writing the
history books

Saying more than
poetry or painting
evoking lost emotions
and guiding the heart
to new ones
Music is my center,
my core, my purpose

Find your center
You may have to dig,
your knees planted on
the earth, your hands
covered in dirt,
and sweat on your brow
Find your center
but don’t claim to know mine

No one can
take that away
from me
And I won’t
let them take it
from you

Apple Tree January 24, 2013

Posted by findingherforte in poetry, writing.
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
2 comments

On my best days
I still think about it
that place that exists only in my mind,
as far as I know.
I close my eyes and
I can feel the gentle breeze
and the grass tickle my ankles
There we have a house,
small but more than enough
We’re rarely inside anyways

We have a bed
and a tea kettle
and one apple tree that
sits outside our window
and taps the glass on stormy nights

We often look toward the horizon
where grass meets sky
and feel nothing but peace

The only reminder of the
world beyond our little house
is the occasional piece of mail
that finds its way to our mailbox
shaped like a bird house

I feel your hand reach for mine
and I smile because
nothing could make this any better

When I open my eyes
real life is blinding and out of focus
but if I squint just right
I can see our one
apple tree

 

 

Prophecy: Black Sea April 23, 2012

Posted by findingherforte in poetry, writing.
Tags: , , , , , , , ,
2 comments

In the darkest of waters,
in the lands of the Old,
fates are decided
and fortunes are told

There, maidens three
will emerge from the sea
to tell you what was,
what is, and will be

One will bring peace
to body and mind,
rid you of guilt
and transgressions that bind

Another will welcome
good fortune in life,
warn you of danger
and incoming strife

The last will stay silent
but, holding your gaze,
will expel all your fears
in more than one way

For beginning anew
needs a mind that is open
a heart that is sure
and a spirit unbroken

God of the Sea January 19, 2012

Posted by findingherforte in poetry, writing.
Tags: , , , , , , ,
2 comments

There he stood, his
body of bronze
and there I stood
in jaw dropping awe

Such presence in silence
this god of the sea
I knew who he was
but he didn’t know me

He relaxed his pose
and slowly he said
“What interest have you
in gods that are dead?”

I’ve interest in stories
of love and of rage
such tellings of old
are meant for the stage

And I love how the gods
are willing to trade and
bring you smooth sailing
for the alms you have paid

Your memory lives on
and your legend is great
don’t let the people
decide a god’s fate

And Poseidon, he smiled
“Thank you my friend
I’m not quite ready
for my legend to end”

<3Christine

Forgotten Father January 3, 2012

Posted by findingherforte in poetry, writing.
Tags: , , , , , , ,
4 comments

All seeing eye of a realm in the sky
How lonely you must be
Your followers long dead
Your triumphs turned legend
And existence believed myth

A King may have all of the riches
and power to rule without waver
but a god with no
prayers
is a fish out of water

The hunger of your ego
doesn’t even possess the luxury
of ceasing to exist
A mortal’s death would surely suffice
but an immortal body would never allow it

And so you linger, like the scent of sunshine
after a long summer day,
watching and waiting for a true believer
to resurrect what has long laid dormant
an honest to god undying magic
the Forgotten Father of Winter’s past

Static Cling July 29, 2010

Posted by findingherforte in poetry.
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,
1 comment so far

This was not written based on true events. Just true fears.

Where you no longer
linger, in body and mind,
your scent still
clings
like an autumn leaf
in denial of spring

Desperately tugging
at the tattered
corners of my
memory
Though faded, they
light up a life
amidst dark hours

Performing the role
of a simple reminder
conjuring weak smiles
Innocent enough
until night falls and
it only emphasizes
your absence

Once sleep overcomes me,
a dreaming fool,
my senses allude to illusion
of a world where
you roam
And, like your aura,
I cling to the pillow
that your head no longer
falls upon

An era ended swiftly
a history never fading
how cruel a fate
for a widow to keep reliving
what’s dead

Pen Pals May 15, 2010

Posted by findingherforte in Uncategorized.
Tags: , , , , , ,
2 comments

It’s been awhile
hasn’t it?
Sitting in on my
life
watching me,
loving me
All the while
putting up with
a bad hostess.
Me.
Where are my
manners?
Please don’t think
I’ve been ignoring you
(you’re hard to
ignore)
It just hadn’t
crossed my mind
to offer you a
cup a tea
(frivolous, I know)
or to strike up
a decent conversation
(why would the
weather interest
*you*? It’s merely
a brush stroke
in a work of
art)

While, in the back
of my mind,
I’ve never thought you
absent,
I haven’t really
*seen*
you lately
Perhaps I haven’t
been looking
A figure with no
definition
At least,
none that we
can all
agree on

Pen pals
suddenly silenced
Tragic, really.
Except, you’ve definitely
been writing
You’re always
writing
(Never knowing
the curse of
writer’s block.
All knowing, huh?)
I haven’t been polite enough
to take the time
to write back

I’m so sorry.
Oh, how silly
of me.
Apologizing like
you haven’t already
forgiven.
You’re always
one step ahead.
I guess that’s
how you got the
job

Pardon me,
I’m rambling.
We should do
this again
sometime.
You’re such a
great listener
and I’m always
up for talking

I’ll be sure to keep in touch.

Tell Jesus hello for me,
Christine

rain April 29, 2010

Posted by findingherforte in poetry, Uncategorized.
Tags: , , , , , , ,
add a comment

I really love it, you know.

The pitter patter of Heaven’s tears. It renders the world silent. A soggy, gray standstill. Precipitating. Anticipating the end.

Sounds waves slow and marvel at the sorrow. Who knew there were this many shades of gray? Soaking the colors in such a dismal shade could depress any creature.

Nothing seems real until it rains. You don’t notice the uneven ground until it fills with water, creating a puddle paradise. (Boots not included.) You don’t notice Spring’s bloom until it’s drowning. Every sagging cherry blossom begs for attention. So desperate that it’ll make its way to the cruel, cold ground. If only to be stepped on by an oblivious passerby.

The sprinkling generosity that, inevitably, keeps us going. The dew, left behind, makes Mother Nature sparkle (more than usual, of course).
“Over here! Look at me!” She’ll cry, winds and breezes only aiding in Her shimmering attempt.

The dense, sodden air steals time. If only long enough to let you listen. For once in your life, really, truly listen! You can almost hear existence in the pounding, relentless down pour. But only if you pay attention; and this is your chance! Umbrella or not, for the love of everything and anything you hold dear, embrace the eerie element.

And love it.

Living Abstraction April 9, 2010

Posted by findingherforte in Uncategorized.
Tags: , , , , , , ,
1 comment so far

Make a note:
every progression,
no matter how deceptive,
is here to stay
A science
of risk and
ritual
(careful not to
disturb what unstable
geniuses have previously
set in motion)
Formulas to make
the skin crawl
and the heart throb
combining the necessary
elements
to create a masterpiece
or a monster
Hoping to scar the Earth

Make Her remember

every thrilling trill
Perk every ear
Til it makes a
spark
Fiery melodies
armed with plagal
harmony
contrary to any
motion
made before
Like a leading tone
there can only be
one

Musician turned
muse
Rousing
the dead, dormant
dancer
writer and dreamer
inside

Dissect the Pieces
to better appreciate
the whole
This is no animal
vegetable or mineral
Unworldly and
most inviting
(like most sinful things)
warm and moving
Almost as if it’s
alive.