Read Wall has an article he wrote for a friend of his dealing with “The Tides of Darkness”. At the end, he’s got a nice poem. Below’s a clip of it.
Oh, how pride has such a great cost!
But, then I remembered the words of a friend,
Who, from love, had this word of hope to lend.
That no matter how deep or ill,
‘Jesus is deeper still!’
Title: My Nineveh
Author: Erundur Anwamehtar
Date: 11/04/2003
I heard a beckoning today.
“Go.”
It’s happened before, even
Yesterday and on Sunday.
Will this be my Nineveh
Or will I listen?
I went for a summer. Two months turned short
Though daunting at the time,
Looming like Fuji-san.
Two years,
What’s that?
A speck, a splatter,
a brush’s stroke
beckoning me
again.
Will this be my Nineveh
Or will I listen?
Is this my Nineveh
Or am I mistaken?
I will ask.
Poem: Modiglian
For Modiglian, a truly interesting acquaintance
Author: Erundur Anwamehtar
Last Modified: 10/5/2003
I wish the jolly, blue frogs
causing heavy-metal mayhem
would leave the dreams of the lonely, Spanish shop-owner
so he could sleep,
his depression end,
and he could perhaps finish
a sentence
without resorting to rambling,
crazed descriptions of the Japanese animation
which causes his nose to twitch,
his eyes to water like a rabbit’s
that narrowly escaped
death under the feet of a bull in a festival
celebrating running
but isn’t an anime marathon at all
and therefore wouldn’t interest the shop-owner
any more than the batteries and local maps
he sells to misguided tourists
who don’t know
the shortest distance between right and wrong is nothing but perspective.
Poem: No Longer Enticing
Author: Erundur Anwamehtar
Last Modified: 12/6/2001
Dirt-stained shoes slowly sink walking over the surrounding stale snow.
The screech of an ice-scraper is diminished by the swirling cold.
A boy drives across town in a blue, hatch-backed car to buy a rose.
Upon returning home, no woman waited within to receive its precarious scent.
He can taste happiness, but it remains a ghost memory enticing him no more.
Poem: What I Was Seeking
Author: Jake Mousel
Date: 9/3/2003
Note: This is a poem, a sestina, written by my friend Jake and I’ve decided to post it here. I hope y’all enjoy it.
I asked myself “What is there?”
as I sought some significance in this life
lived under the sun,
any accomplishment before I die
leaving all this busyness
of which there is no lack
My tendency to slack
was always there.
I drifted in my laziness
never interacting with this given life.
With no reason not to die
I found myself looking at the Son.
And it was in the Son
of God that I found myself lacking,
deserving only to die.
Yet it was also there
that I found the promises of His life
and of His kindness
It’s not my own righteousness
but that of the Son
in whom I have my life,
in whom I have no lack.
I’m waiting to find myself there
on the day I die
Oh what gain to die!
I’m waiting to leave the craziness
that’s out there
under the sun.
Fade to black
and leave this spurious life
for a better life:
no more to die
no more to lack
no more to see brightness
coming from the sun;
I won’t need it there.
These lines are the keys to unlock the gates that you might enter in there
and escape from the darkness of the world, that you might find life
eternal in the One who died: God’s own Son.