Poem* 26

Night after night

till the hours of morn,

As the sky fell from

blue to black to purple,

I saw her walk

along the road,

talking only to the air.

With a twirling toe

and a flourish of arms,

she floated and bobbed,

Graceful and long,

like a ship upon the horizon.

with shiny black hair

that fell to her waist

and a gown that fell to the floor,

I never ventured

to asked her name

or why she walked

in fact.

I only watched

from my curious perch

As she sailed along–

Like the stars above–

Talking only to the air.

_______

*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.

Poem* 25

It had been a while

Since she’d seen the sun

The clouds of winter

Pressing dark and cold

For so long

But on this morning

From the top of her mountain

With shoulders square and

shadow trailing

She was close enough to

not only see it

But reach out

and hold it

in the palm of her hand

_______

*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.

Poem* 24

Framed silhouette

Words in a line

Tower on a shelf

Dream pasted high

First color on a page

Faces behind glass

Stacks of life

Boxed inside

Four walls

and a ceiling

with a floor beneath

Breathing the shadows

and silence

between each dawn and dusk

into a mirror that reflects

It all.

_______

*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.

Poem* 23

He looked at me

with his cheshire eyes

And I knew right then

It was over.

My protestations

my propriety–

A mere house of cards

Against the warmth

of his outstretched hand.

The wall of reservations

crumbling

willy-nilly

Until I was left

(Quite quickly, I might add)

With nothing more

than forgotten reason

And the certainty

That I would follow him

to the farthest star

and back.

_______

*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.

Do Mormons Observe Lent?

This morning on my Facebook page, in honor of the fact that today is Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, I posted the following status update:

“Mormons don’t participate in Lent because being Mormon is like Lent 24/7. The only thing left to give up is dessert. & NO ONE’S TAKING THAT FROM ME!” –Jenna Jones, comedian/Script P.A. at The Daily Show

As a Mormon, the quote made me laugh pretty hard, because, good grief, it sure feels true! I don’t drink (alcohol, coffee, or tea), don’t smoke, don’t have sex (cuz I’m not married), no porn, no rated R movies or other morally questionable media … so really. What’s left?! My fellow Mormon friends got a good laugh out of it too and a few shared it on their walls. But in the comments that followed the update, one friend (who is not a Mormon) asked, “So, Mormons really don’t participate in Lent? Or was she just saying that?”

I didn’t realize that friends of other faiths might not know we don’t particpate in Lent, so I tried to explain to my best ability. My response was this:

No, we really don’t. At least not a “sponsored by the Church” observance of Lent. A Mormon could certainly observe Lent if he/she wanted to. There’s no rule stating we can’t. But it’s not a practice of the general Church population.

As for a reason why … the quote above, though said in jest, is actually kind of true. We essentially practice Lent all year long. We fast once a month, partake of the sacrament (i.e. communion) weekly, seek to live by a strict health code, live the law of chastity, evaluate (continually) one’s life/habits in comparison to the commandments and example of Christ, and focus on spiritual sanctification through daily prayer, daily study, and daily repentance.

By no means are we perfect at doing all of that every day of every year, but that’s what we’re striving for every day of every year.

This is not to say that Easter isn’t an incredibly important holiday to us. Because it is. And we each look forward to, and prepare for it in different worshipful ways as individuals, families, and congregations. For example, I’m reading the four gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke, & John) with particular focus on the final week of Christ’s life as the weeks lead up to Easter.

Also, as a Church, we are very focused on the events that occurred in the Garden of Gethsemane and the resurrection from the tomb. We are certain of the fact that Christ suffered for us in the Garden and in the reality that he rose from the dead. We believe in a Living Christ (as in, He’s alive right now) who is intimately involved in our salvation and exaltation and works daily with our Heavenly Father in our behalf.

I have reposted this exchange at the request of my friend and hope my response helps shed some light on one aspect of my Mormon faith. I welcome any further questions regarding this, or any other, subject. I would also like to say that I deeply respect all faiths, Christian and otherwise. I find that my own faith and my dedication to it is only enhanced when I learn about other belief systems and I would hope that any comments or questions posed here reflect a similar spirit of respect and generosity.

Poem* 22

I dug my hands

into the rich, black soil

Massaging the shoulders

of the tired Earth

Pressing deep

Crafting a womb

Where Life could grow

_______

*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.

Poem* 21

I stood on the platform

Staring down

My red patent shoes

Shiny in the sun

People coming and going

This way and that

While I

Quietly waited.

I sat at the table

Draining glass after glass

A bread basket steaming

in front of me

He was on his way

Or so he said

While I

Anxiously waited.

I stood on the side

As she got what she wanted

A promise

A life

After ever

While I

watching the horizon

patiently waited.

Always waiting.

_______

*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.

Poem* 20

I don’t love you anymore

Was all he said

As if love was something

You take off

Like dirty socks

Or tennis shoes.

I begged for reasons

I begged for him

to change his mind

Which begging, I now regret

Hours later

I closed the book

Closed the door

Closed my eyes

Closed my heart

It wasn’t until later, though

that I realized

He never said

I’m sorry

_______

*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.

Poem* 19

Decidedly so

The hands roll on

Ticking away the night

Moon sits low

A golden bowl

That melts into the dawn

Windows down

Freezing air

Whipping past the miles

Until a world

Stands in between

Where she was

and now

_______

*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.

Poem* 18

She stood

naked and dripping

tiny pools puddling on the floor

Searching,

her eyes tracing

every curve and outline

lingering over freckles

noting the color

of her hair

her lips

her eyes

the mole

on her cheek

her shoulder

her side

The curve

of her breasts

The rise

of her hips

The swell

of her belly

She wanted

to turn

to clothe

to cover

but forced herself

to stand

to stare

to see

Willing herself

to love

the woman

looking back at her

_______

*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.

Poem* 17

She dug her toes

into the cool wet sand

the tide pooling

round her ankles

A seagull’s call

from overhead

The blistering sun

falling

Eyes fixed

She watched the horizon

and waited

for an answer

Perhaps upon the wind

But only silence blew through her hair

as the waves pulled the ground

from under

_______

*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.