Rhyme and Reason

I've spent the last few months of my life trying to find a rhyme or reason to my sudden failure to write something and why it angers me so. Perhaps the springtime rains will bring forth some new ideas on fantasy and reality and help me once again start creating things as I did a long time ago....when I was happy.

Over my desk in my office is the poster for my first "personal" novel. As much as I would love to give the name out right now to those who have been reading my blogs since I first started writing them, I have a funny feeling that the people who are in the book who will subsequently receive my version of "shock and awe" are one of the many who are reading this and are still following my life. Perhaps it's a way to not completely lose track of me. Perhaps it's fear of what little they knew I was capable of doing when pushed to the outer limits of what a person should actually take. Or perhaps it's mostly to understand now what they couldn't understand then. I don't think I will ever have the chance to find out. But if my daydreams are true, then maybe I just might get the chance.

It's by this uncertainty that I still am able to write. Not because I have "The Urge" as I've called it, but mostly because it helps me to forget and focus on the tasks ahead. There is still much work to be done on my novel and concurrently with this one, I'm working on a couple of others. Needless to say, the task is a great one.

But I will always have time for those who have long enjoyed my poetry. For you few people who are reading my essays, I thank you and I value your opinions. You are the reason that I will continue writing. For as long as I know I am writing for more then myself, I will continue.

I said to a Canadian friend of mine not too long ago, that if I had the time I would dedicate the next poem that I worked on to him. I'm a man of my word and I will honor him in a poem.  Justin....this one's for you....

There are times I'm awakened
in the night with great fear
that these could be the last days of men
and the end draws near.

There are rumors abound
of wars putting
crown against crown.

The people they suffer
and wonder if ever
if they will find a leader
who will beg the world to differ.

One thing is constant
of this I am sure,
these times are not pure,
we are children no more.

Forgetting ourselves,
forgetting great laughter,
it is our own vanity
that most of us are after.

Lifting my eyes and what should I see,
but the essence of winter
falling so neatly.

I kneel in respect
to that which created me
and say the prayer
which asks so sweetly...

"I ask unto you,
oh Heavens above me,
for years I have wondered
has love bid the world adieu?"

"Can it be so
that the world is so empty and cold?
Like an answer to my dreams,
I leave that up to you."

 

Until next time.
© Archangel 2008

Warmth of Spring

The winter sky is over here in my small part of Heaven which I call Texas. I can tell it's over just by the disappearance of the hunter in the winter sky. Of course, I'm talking about Orion.

Of all the constellations in the sky, he is the one I watch the most all year long. I guess it has to do with the fact that I've always been close to stories about warriors and mythical creatures. Or maybe there was a time when Orion pointed to something more special in my life. For whatever the reason, his time is come and gone. I'll wait for him for a few months and I'll know winter has come back when he's arrived.

I've taken a long break from writing. I've been trying to clear my head of past ideas that never worked and ideas I have yet to put on paper. When I was younger I remembered writing stories about places that I could see only in my dreams and how I would one day get to see these places. I guess my mind knew that I was lacking for ideas of what I feel I should be writing and I'm suddenly a child again. Filled with the memories of places long forgotten and people who I left behind.

To all the new people who've stopped by my blog and have wondered where I've been, I apologize. Even writers need a time to gather their thoughts every now and again. But thank you for your kind words about how much you like my writing and look forward to when I would be writing more. I'll try to be a bit more consistent this year, but I'll make no promises.

So, I guess it's time for a poem. After reading a few of my past poems I noticed that I don't really have any love poems besides the ones I wrote for the new year. I never was one for sappy love poems because anything you've ever wanted to say to someone you love has already been said by someone else a million times. But I would think the real challenge to writing a poem penned by love would be to be able to say something that has already been said and be able to say it better than they did. Maybe now, I'll give it a shot.

 

Forever watching
a moonlit covered sky
filled with millions of stars
that remind me of your eyes,
I lay here with you
and quietly slip into what would be reality
if holding you in my arms
was merely a dream.
 

Letting cool winds cover us
to send a chill through your body
and a message to my heart
to warm you with my love.

And until the time should come
that we should part from
this petite part of paradise,
I shall forever be with you
long after the moon has set
and the stars no longer twinkle.
 

All I ask until then
is for you to love me the same
and when you utter who you love
let it be my name.

 

Until next time

© Archangel 2008

Warm Winters

The worst part of the winter is now over and now it's becoming more and more like spring each day. The weatherman on the Tv is always calling for colder weather coming. Somehow, I don't think that'll be happening anymore. This year is the year of changes. At least it is for me. It's the first year I actually start anew. It's my reinventing year and a year of actually making a name for myself. I actually don't care how hard it gets from here on in. I've lived through worse and now that it's over, I can see what I'm supposed to be doing and not having to be dragged by dead weight.

I've finished a section of my new book. For some reason I got hit with a rush of "The Urge" and I'm trying to see how long it will last. The title of it is pretty much set and it actually fits perfectly. I think once I've got this book out of the way, I talk more about the original project and how it actually got to this point. Besides, if you've been paying attention to my blogs for the last few months then you know what this book is for and what exactly I'm planning to do.

But moving on beyond that, I've been asked about a new poem. It's funny when people ask me when I'm going to post again. The truth is, I don't ever really know. Right now, it's 8:26 A.M. and for some strange reason, I am very much in the mood to create something. There was a thought I had a while ago about this vivid day-dream I have. Perhaps if I just wrote it down I wouldn't have it anymore. So that's what I intend to do.

Danzer...this one's for you.

Colored light brightening the hall
taking the shapes of the memories
etteched into the aged glass.

The room so filled with peace
the silence is thunderous.
The wooden seats all empty
and the robed speaker long gone.

A symbol of love and protection
hangs from the pale ceiling,
the figure on it in much pain
and though he shows it on his face
never in a million moons
will he ever feel it.

Below him kneels a figure
silhouetted by the darkness of the clothes he wears.
By his side, a rememberance of the oath he swore long ago.
Time has not been kind to it nor him.
As it has aged, so has his will to honor a promise
he made long ago
before the very figure above him.

The expression on his face
could speak the words of a thousand books
and could never express enough of what he's seen.
Without a word
he speaks to the figure which gave him
the strength and the will
to do as he has done for so many years.

Now,
in a room filled with the sounds
of souls long forgotten
and thoughts left unspoken,
he makes one last request
of a father he never met in person
but walked with all his life.

He reaches for the burden at his side
and casts it in front of him.
A promise is now broken,
the weight on a mind now removed.

The echoing clatter fills the hall.
Ringing forever in his mind.
Nothing left for him to carry
except the memories in his heart.

They do not clatter
like steel and stone.
They will linger
as a scar for all time.


Until next time.


© Archangel 2008

Forgetting the moon

I haven't posted in a while and friends of mine have been wondering why. I guess I can blame it on the moon. I've seen it in a while nor have I stopped to look and wonder as I used to. That personal connection that I had with it feels like it's no longer there. That muse that would fuel my soul doesn't feel like it's calling anymore. Perhaps my muse is something else that I have yet to find or perhaps my "gift" is slowly fading into a world I haven't dreamed about yet. Whatever the case may be, I feel myself slipping.

It used to be that anger willed my poetry sometimes. Thinking of the people I hate the most and channeling it into something useful was easy at the time, but now that I'm letting go, it's getting hard to stay angry. Maybe that's just my "Archangel" within me talking and I'm just not the kind of person to hold a grudge forever, but right now, I don't feel like being angry.

Right now, I feel like writing something happy for a change. Something that will make people see a side of me that is rarely seen. A side that feels strongly for people no matter who they are, no matter what they've done to me or others, no matter where they come from, or what they look like. A poem dedicated to all people. I offer to all of you reading, a glimps into the mind of Archangel when he's at peace.

Beyond the asphalt covered former paths,
Above the highest tips of the sentinals that block the eastern and western sun,
into the mountains of long forgotten stories and dreams
is where those who seek peace often go
to lose themselves in life.

Deep in the darkest and dimmest of places
among jade leaved trees and amber lit grass,
which crisp sound bring the thoughts of spring,
the birds welcome the presence of an angel
wondering through the world
looking for a quiet spot to rest his mind.

Down shall he lay his burrdens
and wonders of the world he leaves behind.
His eyes to the Heavens above him
as he glaces through the peaks the trees give him.

The wind,
so cool against the warmth of his heart
whispers secrets through the trees
to tell him that this is how life should be.
On the wings of birds should our troubles fly.
Let them take them far away to places we may never see.

Rest your wings within the comfort of spring.
In the distance flows the essence of life.
Never does it need reason to do as it does,
never does it ask permission to move as it will.
Oh the questions we could answer by finally
closing our eyes and opening our minds and hearts
to the sounds of angels resting in the grass.

Only they can hear that peace still exists.

Only they will tell you how to find it.


© 2008 Archangel

5 Minutes til the New Year

The streets are lined

with smiling faces

and though they bring with them

the sense of joy

and sense of hope

I find none in my heart

without you by my side.

Soldier of this nation,

knight of my honor,

angel of my soul,

how I miss you so

and long for you to stand with me

as you stand with those

who fight along with you.

As the morn

of the new year approches

I sit here at my desk

and wonder if someone will knock at my door

to rescue me from this solitude

of loveless evenings without you.

I pray that person is you.

And now

they have started to count in the streets

and I will watch them from my window

as they cheer

and celebrate one more year.

I, instead, will sit here and wait.

Wait for you to bring yourself

and the essence of the places you've been

with you.

Blasts in the distance

tell me the time has come and gone.

Blasts that strike more fear to you

than they do to me.

But somehow,

I sit here and feel...

like you're no longer here...

Seven Minutes after Midnight

A shadow darker than the night
fills the empty space
in this foriegn ground
where I write to you.

By the light of a blessed moon
I take pen to paper and write you
one last letter...

One last letter
before the words which I speak
only though pen and paper,
sent by the uncaring will
of a soldier,
will be given to you by the person
whos heart writes them so.

Now as the breeze blows
it sends me the essence of you.
Your spirit from a home so far away
fills me with joy
that I will see you soon.

If I could only tell you
the things that I have seen,
the places I have been,
and the lives which have passed
through my life
and into the next,
some by my hands,
I sware to you, my love,
you would share the emptiness I feel
right now.

There is gunfire in the distance.
Though they tell us the war is over,
to those who fight it,
the pawns and the knights,
we know that war never ends.
It just stops
and waits to start again.

The words escape me
as to explain to you further.
True love has no words
to describe or to explain.
And so, I will end this letter
on a promise.

A promise that when the sun rises
I will count the seconds,
the minutes, the hours,
of when it will be time to see you again.

I pray for seas of glass,
winds of calm,
and starlight so bright
I could trace the path to our home
with a finger in the sky.

And with no more words,
I say...

New Beginning...

...to and old story.

Happy new year to everyone who has patiently waited my return. I hope that everyone's holidays were a blessing and that this new year is prosperous for us all. A new year for me means new material, new dreams, more work on my stories, and, of course, new poems.

I have been saving the energy to write this new poem for afew days now. I didn't get the inspiriation for writing it 'til a couple of days after the new year. After that, I let it linger inside of me and let the story build. When I finally finished it in my head, I realize that it was not really much of a story, but more of a love letter. Two love letters to be exact.

While I'm not known for my love poems, I do have a huge heart big enough to write them. But for anyone who's ever been in love, you know that some poems can be all the same and some can miss the point of love altogether.

Today, I'll give you something that's real on so many levels and you can decide if the love that was meant to be in it, was expressed the right way. It's a story written in two parts and the first starts with a soldier. I'll leave you, my fans, to read the rest.

I must give a thank you to the person who gave me the inspiration. Much like most of my friends and fans, he comes from far away and tells me that I should take my place among the pantheon of writers. I don't know about that, but I do know that I will keep doing what I'm doing even if I'm never recognized. For those of you who frequent my blog and those who are writers yourselves, you know that it better to be discovered from the many by many, than to waste an eternity trying to be recognized. Thanks, Tomas.

With that, I give you... Seven Minutes after Midnight.