Showing posts with label Spirituality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Spirituality. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

war for me

my brokenness has borne
the fruit
of a thousand sorrows

piece by piece by piece
piercing by piercing by piercing
arrows of unlove
to become

what can only be
by the man of sorrows

acquainted with grief
my grief

in love’s long-suffering war

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner

“Love is a long-suffering war.” –Janet Martin, poet extraordinaire

Note:  over at dVerse the prompt is to write a secret admirer poem and since my poem is a bit similar to the guidelines of the prompt offered I wanted to make mention of it--though I didn’t write it in response.

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Sky's Advent (a Fibonacci poem)

and spill
the black orchid
night streaked silken with shimmering,
all flickering in remembrance of one so small.

© 2013 Jennifer Wagner

Monday, November 11, 2013

Simply Jesus

your blood blooms still 
© 2013 Jennifer Wagner

When there’s not enough hyssop
to cleanse me of all these flaws—
I think I must live with them,
make slow improvements
with the
tick tick tick
of time’s cruel elements.

I know too well this unruly thing
inside me is me,
but there, too,
is the me that hungers for her first love

somewhere buried beneath
bruising, hardening, scarring
it throbs,
however disjointedly.

I am not a girl of
ritual, rules or religion.
I only know that at fifteen
I just wanted
to hold Your hand.

And now,
beyond church
and the things they add to it all,
and bitter politics
and the things they take away from it all,
and morality,
and all these rules I break—

I stand here today
when did I ever get the idea
You were not enough?

In dark,
in cloud,
in lightless days,
Your blood blooms still.

And I remember
I never needed
anything else anyway.

© 2013 Jennifer Wagner

1 Corinthians 2:2-5.  And I, brethren, when I came to you, did not come with excellence of speech or of wisdom declaring to you the testimony[a] of God. For I determined not to know anything among you except Jesus Christ and Him crucified. I was with you in weakness, in fear, and in much trembling. And my speech and my preaching were not with persuasive words of human[b] wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, that your faith should not be in the wisdom of men but in the power of God.

Friday, October 4, 2013

The Color of Blood

photo © 2013 Jennifer Wagner

the red pony

the hunt
for red october

the red pyramid

red rabbit

where the red fern grows

the red badge
of courage

the signature of jesus

© 2013 Jennifer Wagner

For dVerse Form for All:  The Hidden Poetry in Books.  I went a totally different way with this than I thought I would.  It’s more of a list type of poem, but it’s where my muse lead.

Books are from our family library:  The Red Pony by John Steinbeck, The Hunt for Red October and Red Rabbit by Tom Clancy, The Red Pyramid by Rick Riordan, Redwall by Brian Jacques, Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls, The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane and The Signature of Jesus by Brennan Manning.

(In memory of Tom Clancy, Apr.12, 1947 - Oct. 1, 2013.  R.I.P.)

Monday, May 13, 2013

Notes from the Bloodwater

What you don’t know is
the wolves came when I was much too young
and sunk their teeth into the deep of me and left a hole.

The surgeries to repair the damage
have not yet gone far enough,
and so I carry this wreckage around inside
where I’ve hidden them
and stretched Kevlar over the scars.

Sometimes I strip it off
and break things in half
to produce a rough edge
and cut the stitching open again
to watch the blood flow
down the shower drain.

Sometimes I make suggestive
remarks to a near stranger
and show a little too much cleavage
while gazing intently at their mouth.

Male or female, it doesn’t matter,
it’s a heart I’m looking for,
since mine is near drained.

I have this counselor
who loves me, I think.
Or else she is just really good
at letting her eyes well up with tears
when I tell my stories.

She says to not stop wanting connection,
to not stop looking to God
for love,
to safe people, for love too.

But God, I fear, allows things
I am still struggling to understand.

And safe people, well,
most days I think it is safer
to love the oil slick street after rain.

Jesus, she once said to me,
understands being bloodless
and mangled and left with holes.
And he wasn’t even repulsed by a girl like me.

I haven’t told anyone yet
but I’m beginning to think maybe I could like a guy like that.

© 2013 Jennifer Wagner

Thursday, March 28, 2013

Easter Poem

of all the blueprints
and maps,
locations marked with a jagged cross,
i like the one where we intersected best

Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Wagner

I celebrate Easter and if you do too, I hope you have a happy one!