Beep.

A wristwatch resounds the eerie announcement: eleven o’clock.
The time has come.

There, I see them. Approaching in the distance.
My comrades plunge one by one into the mêlée.
The inevitable torment spreads to them all.

One of the beasts has reached me.
The vile leech begins its solemn task.
Unable to resist, I give way to the attack.
My synapses slow. My energy is being drained.
I endure their continual beating, my will diminishing.

Thud.

I hear it. The sound of my resolve falling to the ground.
As I slump back in defeat, the battlefield comes into view.
I am not the first to drop. Others can be seen crying out in their silent pain.
Are there any survivors? The opponent’s destruction cannot be total…
     there must at least be a few.
Yes. I see some. Scattered about, they continue the fight.

Radiating warmth, one of my persevering companions catches my eye.
Focused on her encounter with the foe, she is still full of life.
On mere observation of her graceful motion, I am instilled with a new hope.
I am a Knight. My armor protects me from the continuing blows of the adversary.
She has given me reason to persist.
I must survive, if only to join her in glorious victory.

I am transformed, swiftly attacking the assailants…

Beep.

Now the timepiece sounds my triumph. twelve o’clock, and already I am successful.
Smiling, I replace my weapon and lightly stride from the scene.
As I step out into the sunlight, the day is fresh and bright.
I set out to find the one who saw me through the darkest hour.

My spirit is renewed.
The conflict is a shadow of memory, replaced by the beauty of my life’s new love.

Commentary

With Renewal, I tried to capture the feeling of desolation I sometimes feel during a midterm/final. However, even in the seeming hopelessness, there is always something or someone there to help me make it through. That’s all the description I care to give on this one. It’s up to you to determine the nuances for yourself.

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So now I sit here looking back
     thinking of the things I lack.
I want to pull out of this rut.
     One thing stops me—one word—but.

But right now I’m safe, secure as I sit here.
     There is nothing to fix.
But what if she says what I don’t want to hear?
     I just can’t take that risk.

Who will show me what to do?
     Who will guide my path?
I need to trust in only You.
     My God in present, future, past.

I know You have great plans for me,
     if only I would try to see.
So I won’t worry about finding someone
     of all that I shoulda coulda woulda done.

Commentary

This poem arose from a late night discussion with my roommates. I can’t give all the details of that conversation, but let’s just say that we were discussing things that frustrate us. Things that we wish we had more control over. I called this “Retrospect” because it is written from a viewpoint of someone looking back remorsefully on past experiences. Anyway, that’s all.

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I can’t think clearly. Too much noise.
The door is closed already. I get up and shut the window.
Now the voices are silent. No more noises.
Still it is too much.

The chair. It beckons me. I am easily persuaded.
I retire to its comforting arms.
So quiet… so relaxing.

Someone is at the door. No. They are already inside.
He has snuck in. It is too late. He overpowers me.
I don’t know where he is taking me, only that I must follow.

We arrive at a door. I walk through, and my eyes behold Her.
I turn to ask my captor who She is, but I have lost him in the fog.
He could not have left me. I would know it. Yet, I see him not.

She is drawing nearer, beautiful beyond words, and so full of mystery.
In Her all my ambitions are realized, all my hopes given reason.
I sit down to contemplate what She could mean to me, and all She could bring.
She draws nearer still, radiating through the mist.
How happy I will be when She reaches me, stretching out Her arms to envelop me.
She is almost upon me. I close my eyes in quiet anticipation.
I can almost feel Her joy encompassing me, Her contentment surrounding me.

But wait.
     Something is wrong.
          I open my eyes.
Where has She gone?
There, behind me. But She is walking away.
How can this be? I had waited so patiently.
I run, trying to catch Her, but it is too late.

She has disappeared into the fog.
I stand alone. Confused.

A ringing, then silence. I look out to find the source, but see only the white haze.
Again the ringing. Again the silence.
     The vapors begin to clear.
     My surroundings become apparent.
          the door.
          the desk.
          the phone.
A third ring. Leaping up, I answer it, but it is too late. Again I have been passed by.
The chair and its eternal apathy call to me once more.
…this time I stall.
No. This must not continue. I turn to the door, and walk out.
Let the world pass by the chair. I have things to do.
I have my life to live, and I intend to live it to the Fullest.

Commentary

The first part of this writing is about the writer (me) developing an apathy for life. Under the weight of all of life’s pressures, giving up and just sitting down seems like the best idea. After he sits down, he drifts to sleep (the kidnapper), and then dreams of his future (the woman) drawing closer, but passing him by. He tries to catch it, but it is too late. After waking up, the dream inspires him not to just let his life happen around him, but to go out and make it happen the way he wants it to.

This is something that I have to learn for myself over and over again. Sometimes it is on a small scale, sometimes on a larger, life-size scale. If I just sit around and expect a future of happiness to come to me, then I will lose any chance I had to attain it in the first place. That is why I need to go out and make my life what I want it to be. When life gives you sore feet, don’t just sit down in a chair and give up. Kick life in the shin, then forget about it and move on.

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(May be used as a song to the tune of “Clementine”)

On a Thursday, not a good day, sat a pond with lots of grime.
There at camp it sat and called me, but I said I would not swim.
(Chorus)

Chorus

Murky waters, beckon for me, but a dry one I will be.
I will stay out of the water, even if it killeth me.

Others played games, some got pushed in, I decided not to try.
I stood by and saw them goof off, calls of fun I would not buy.
(Chorus)

People tried to push me pondward, but I wouldn’t play their game.
In a while some were quite angry, I had earned myself some fame.
(Chorus)

All my friends tried, I resisted, I did not wish to get wet.
I watched by there was no danger, I just laughed and didn’t fret.
(Chorus)

Came a new girl, name of Misty, and with her came 3 new chums.
When I saw them, took to runnin’, I was not as fool as them.
(Chorus)

But they got me, picked right up me, though I tried to get away.
Kept on walkin’ to the sick pond, and I thought this was the day.
(Chorus)

Tried to reason, tried to fight them, but I could not yet tear loose.
But I knew I had to get free, so I yelled, but with good use.
(Chorus)

Then a counselor, heard and saw me, being hauled despite my will.
So he stopped them and I thanked him, and I went away dry still.
(Chorus)

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