Every Breath is a Breath for Hope, original poem

Every breath is a breath for hope.

Hope for the future.

Hope to keep living.

Hope that sadness will surely end.

Hope that joy will surely begin.

Hope for bliss.

Hope for laughter.

Hope there's always another chapter.

Hope that trials resolve in peace.

Hope that pain will find release. 

Hope for a dream.

Hope for more time.

Hope that every wish will align.

Hope for love and all that's divine.

 

Hope this poem won't end in a rhyme...

 

:P

 

Sarah

 

The Warrior Next Door, an original poem

To the warrior next door,

The selfless peacemakers,

The brave defenders,

To those fighting untold demons,

To those struggling for hope,

Quiet helpers,

Cancer battlers,

Sacrificing dreams so others may live,

Braving loss to save a soul,

Late night talkers,

Honest motivators,

Giving up to give more,

To those who run into fire,

To those who sacrifice desire,

Perform all-nighters to heal,

Who openly love,    

Who put others first,

Anonymous servers who refuse fame.

You're the light of the Earth

in a World that seems dark.

You're the hope of the future

when the future seems lost.

You're the answer for peace

where chaos may rage.

You're the gift of love

that vanquishes hate.

Sarah

#NeverForget

#9/12

 

Simply Words, an original poem

Words are funny.

They give everything and nothing at the same time.

Conferring feelings and thoughts,

Hopes, dreams and wonders,

Yet they are merely puzzle pieces in a grand masterpiece,

which may or may not be complete.

Words that hope to communicate,

though easy to manipulate.

Written sentences deleted after agonized time,

or simply Frankensteined.

 

Maybe an emoticon can better show intent?

Punctuation marks imitating empathy,

Real or deceived. 

Creating what's perceived.

Words breading hate.

Words fanning joy.

Words desiring love,

Or simply annoy.

 

Still, always, Words feed the soul.

~ Sarah Stufflebeam

P.S. While writing this I stumbled on a Wikipedia page showing emoticons.  Turns out many of the emoticons I use are called Kaomoji faces, originating out of Japan.  Heh, probably due to my early days obsessing over anime and whatnot back when the internet was a teenager.

A Single Drop, an original poem

A single drop smooths through cracked wood

          Lost from view as it whittles away. 

Unassumed, unaware, unrenowned.  

Wind tousled trees look down

          Watching drops form puddles.

Collect, concise, control.

The single drop remains.

          Untouched. Unformed.

 

The gathered drops beacon.  

          Coerce.  Compel.

Yet the single drop moves.

          Untempted, unbothered, untroubled.  

While lakes and ponds grumble.

          Contend, conceal, contest.  

 

Gathered voices will not compel.

          The single drop avoids the spell.

~ Sarah Stufflebeam

P.S.  Just a quickie little poem.  Sat down at the computer with no idea of what to write, and then this happened.  I know some of the words used are not dictionary recognized, so they're used out of sure spite.

Shifting Time, an original poem

I try to hold Time,

but Time will not stay.

My fingers close tight, 

but not tight enough,

slipping to the ground. 

Around me lights flash,

scenes move,

voices speed,

but I stand still.

Unmovable,

as Time moves along.

Unchanging,

as everything modulates.

In this circle I stand,

watching everyone leave,

watching their growth,

their movements,

their change.

 

I try to hold Time,

but Time won't be held.

I hold it close,

yet it flits away.

I watch it fly,

wishing for flight,

yet bound I remain.

 

Time tries to bind,

but bound I won't be,

a statement of mind

and all that I see.

 

I will break free.

I will break free.

Present illusions will not entrap me.

 

I will break free.

I will break free.

Time is eternal and I'll find the key.

Sarah Stufflebeam

(Okay, this is a bit depressing, tried to leave it on an uplifting note.  I haven't written a poem in ages, but I'm trying to not be so caught up in perfection, as it paralyses me from action.  So I'm going to have fun with words, no matter if they're good or not.)

Striking Embers Blaze, an original poem

Striking embers blaze

Clinging smoke clouds the mountain

A whispering wind

~ The Pithy Poet

Sarah Stufflebeam

(The Pithy Poet is a name that's been bouncing around my head for awhile now.  I thought it would be fun to sign all my short poetry with it.)  

 (Three days ago, State Street Utah Valley)

The Pole Creek Fire has been affecting Utah Valley.  I'm not quite sure when it started, but I think it was within the last week.  Three days ago is when I first noticed it, not really sure what the clouds in the distance were.  They seemed off for low hanging clouds.

(Two days ago, view from the point of the mountain.)

It's interesting how the smoke just hangs there.  Yesterday morning the smoke filled the valley with a distinct campfire smell, then by the afternoon the wind cleared the smoke away.  My youngest brother and sister-in-law live where the smoke has been hanging.  Our families were supposed to have a party at their house, but with the smoke, which has been raining ash, we moved the location.

This morning I've been trying to get information on the fire but can't find much.

The weather here has been dry and windy, not a good combination.  There's been quite a few evacuations.  Last I heard the fire was only 2% contained, but that was a couple days ago.

There's multiple wildfires burning in Utah.  I'm praying for the safety of the firefighters.  They're so brave.  And praying for peoples homes as well.  I don't know anyone in the evacuation zone, but many of my friends have friends who are affected, and it's pretty scary.

This seems to be the Summer of fire.  Hopefully it will end soon.

Oh, Thou cursed LEGO! an original poem

Oh, Thou cursed LEGO!

You hidest in strange places,

Cursing me with your stealth! 

How do you do it?

Just when I think you're cleared away,

you pounce!

Under foot you hide.

Waiting.

Patient.

Oh, thou has the greatest patience.

And without warning you strike!

Oh cursed, foul!

You strike me with pain!

My foot throbs with your poking!

Your sharp edges sharp like a knife, stabbing tender flesh.

If you weren't so fun with play,

I'd be done with you!

But for now, fie!

Be gone!

Until I'm over this mild shock and we can rejoin our friendship, talking like good minded folk, creating dynasties and worlds, ships of great worth.  Then, and only then, will I take you back.

~ Sarah Stufflebeam

(Inspired by true events)

Where Flowers Lay: An Original Poem

Where Flowers Lay

On the last Monday in the month of May,

Rows of flowers on graves do lay,

Rows and rows of colors frayed,

Reminding all this solemn day.  

Reminding all of lives once lived,

A sacrifice they choose to give,

A Freedoms breath that we may live

Without the horror, the combative.

What lives were lost?

 I want to know.

What were your dreams?

 How did you grow?

Names on crosses line the field.

Names that many will never kneel.

But on this day I humbly yield,

and honor those with courage zeal.

Thanks to those where flowers lay.

Thanks to those in quiet graves.

In memory sweet reverence, pray.

We remember this Memorial Day.

By Sarah Stufflebeam

Blank Page, an original poem

Blank  Page

What do I write?

I wonder here,

staring at a page completely bare.

The possibilities that one can do,

Ideas and joys and all things new.

But in my mind I'm overwhelmed,

So many thought I should dispel.

Focus on one and make a start.

Stick to the point,

stay true to my heart.

There's so many ways that I can go,

These rambling words seem to know

That as I write I avoid a choice,

Meandering through I've lost my voice.

But these are words I'm writing here,

And now this page is not so bare,

Though I feel as if I've gone nowhere,

Writing these words without a care.

So now I'll go,

I'm done for now,

There's more blank pages,

 and I do vow,

That what I write next will be worth your time,

(I don't even know what to do with this line),

And I know I'm writing too many rhymes,

Yet somehow I know we'll all be fine.

THE END

~ Sarah Stufflebeam

(My first poem in over a year. :P)

In Whispered Silence, an original poem

In whispered Silence,

in Silence wake.

Note the empty streets that light forsakes.

If I walk will Silence remain?

Or will Silence consume my empty frame?

Time chimes on in quiet song,

with hollowed beats, insecure.

Waiting for breath.

Waiting for thought.

Waiting.

A flutter.

A scatter.

Echos refraction.

A stumble.

A bumble.

Slow introspection.

Walking slowly through Silence refrain.

Streets empty, yet here I remain.

A sobering note in my hand.

Ink faded.

Words melting.

 Sentiments jaded.

Damp paper tears quickly,

dropped to the ground.

When love falls it makes no sound.

Silence completely consumes.

The Turkey Gobble, an original poem

 The Turkey Gobble

 Gobble, Gobble, Gobble

The Turkey did dance

Autumn was coming

This was His chance

Gobble, Gobble, Gobble

Run away fast

Escape to the Forrest

And through all the grass

Gobble, Gobble, Gobble

Away he did flee

Away from the cranberries

And all the gravy

Gobble, Gobble, Gobble

Thanksgiving was soon

The idea of a feast

Was nothing but gloom

Gobble, Gobble, Gobble

The Turkey Relaxed

In a new field

He tiredly slacked

Gobble, Gobble, Gobble

A giant man came

He found the new Turkey

Quiet and tame

Gobble, Gobble, Gobble

The family did eat

Between slices of bread

The Turkey did sleep

Gobble, Gobble, Gobble

His rest was divine

Now in Heaven

The Turkey did shine

Poem by Sarah Stufflebeam

Art by Lindsay Stufflebeam

Santa's Dreaded Letter, an Original Poem

My guess as to what Santa is reading:

"Dear Santa,

Twas the Night Before Christmas and all through the house, nothing was stirring, not even a mouse, for you went to bed just before dawn, hoping to nap when you stretched and you yawned. You slept through the night so no presents were left, so all the good families thought there was a theft. They woke and they anguished, the stockings were bare, the police were then called to vent their despair. The children then cried, “There's no Santa at all! We thought you were real when we went to the Mall!” The elves have all quit, the Reindeer’s have fled, even Rudolph has left to escape all the dread. I'm sad to inform you that Christmas is dead. You went and killed it when you went to bed.

Sincerely,

Head Elf Rasmuken,

December 25, 2014"

This was the daily spont posted a couple days ago on the Utah Odyssey of the Mind Facebook page, so I thought I'd have a little fun and write a quick poem.

Merry Christmas!!

Hope your day is full of fun, laughter, and family

The Seed, an Original Poem

(Image Info)

The Seed

“This is a seed

that's all I know,

if you plant it

something will grow.”

“What will grow?”

“I do not know.

Something big and strong.”

“But it is so small.”

“It's small, that's true.

It's small like you.

And like this seed

you will grow too.”

“Will I grow big and strong,

strong just like you?”

“You might.”

“And this seed will grow too?”

“It will, but only if you plant it soon.”

“What if I don't plant it,

what will happen then?”

“If you don't plant it,

it'll stay tiny and thin,

as its always been.”

“No change?”

“No change at all,

this seed will stay small.

You need to go plant it,

so it can grow tall.”

“After I plant it

what should I do?”

“Water it, nourish it,

tend to the seed.

Give the seed light

and pull all the weeds.”

“Is this all I do?

Just water and nourish it once

and I'm through?”

“Not once or twice

or thrice and your done.

It's day in and day out

in the shade and the Sun.

And If you neglect it,

miss just a day,

the plant that has grown

can soon pass away.”

“Does that mean it's weak,

the seed was not strong?”

“No, the seed was a good seed,

it's you who did wrong.

The seed will reflect

all the deeds that you do,

so you must be patient

and see all things through.”

~ Sarah Stufflebeam

"How do I feel the Spirit?" Original Poem

"How do I feel the Spirit?"

How do I feel the Spirit?

Is it felt within the heart?

Can I feel his loving guidance everyday?

How do I feel the Spirit?

Is there something I must do?

Must I listen and obey,

praying day by day,

so I can feel the Spirit's voice?

How do I feel the Spirit?

Will he guide me on my path?

In a World of darkness can I feel the light?

How do I feel the Spirit?

Must I walk beyond my sight?

Can I simply walk by faith,

seeking as I pray,

so I can feel the Spirit's voice?

~ Sarah Stufflebeam

Yesterday I got my first rejection letter.  Each year the LDS church has a church music competition, and these are the lyrics to a children's song I submitted.  Yesterday I found out I didn't even place.  It's so hard not to take it personally!  

I knew what I submitted was a risk.  The song is nothing but questions, and the only resolution is how questions lead to questions, and sometimes you answer a question with a question.  For me that's how I've learned to recognize the spirit, and to walk with faith, following what I feel.  I'm always asking questions to the Lord.  It's a part of the process.  It's how we learn.  And once we got one thing figured out, something new pops into our life, and the questions start all over again.

Anyway, I love this short little poem.  It's from my heart.  It's apart of my own journey and testimony.

In terms of the rejection, I need a little Snoopy attitude.  If that cute little dog can get rejected by the editor as many times as he has and keep on writing, then so can I. 

For Whoever Finds It, an Original Poem

This is a short little poem I wrote in a few minutes.  Usually I'll only post material I've worked at; never something this rushed or rough.  Yesterday I was at an awesome activity with my LDS YSA Singles Ward friends in Manti UT, and in the attic there was an ol' fashioned type writer.  I had to write a poem!  Made me really appreciate spell check and being able to erase.  The title comes from the fact that I left the paper in the attic and didn't take it home; it'll probably get thrown away without a second look.  This is what I came up with.

"For Whoever Finds It"

 Coming from a little town

There was a boy who loved to frown

Around the town this boy would go

Miserable and all alone

His hair was brushed

His shirt was white

Straight A's, clean room, all was right

Though teachers pet he might have been

He never once had had a friend

When he grew up he went his way

Good school, good job, big house, good pay

Now he's old, alone and grey

Negatives is all he'll say

So never where an awful frown

An empty life for one renowned

~ Sarah Stufflebeam

"Done With Gravity" Lyrics

Watch the video here.

(Verse 1)

No, No, I don't want to cry, cry

I don't want to lie, lie

and wait for the World to shatter

No, No, I don't want to give up

I don't want to end up surrounded by all the clatter.

(Bridge 1)

I'm done with gravity

I won't hit the ground

I'm going to touch eternity

(Verse 2)

No, No, I will not stand by, by

I'm not gonna lie, lie

about all my hearts intentions

No, no, I will not surrender

I'm not going under

I've got a new direction

(Bridge 2)

I'm done with negatives

I'm not gonna drown

This is my time to finally live

(Chorus)

I'm done with Gravity

I will not be bound

I'm done with Gravity

I'm not going down

I'm up high

In the sky

In the Stratosphere

I'm done with

I'm done with

I'm done with Gravity

(Repeat Chorus)

~ Sarah Stufflebeam

Ned the Newt, An Original Poem

Ned the Newt

Ned the Newt was quite the snoot

He loved to laugh and linger

Didn't he mind the use of his time?

He didn't, and that's why he faltered

Around he would go

Poking his nose

In places he shouldn't have bothered

He gossiped and teased

With the wind and the breeze

Until he had no friends at all

~ Sarah Stufflebeam

Soft Flowing Rapids, An Original Poem

(By Maureen from Buffalo, USA)

 Soft Flowing Rapids

Upon a mountain top packed with snow

Where wind looks down on rocks below

Where nothings changed for months apply

I see myself in years gone by

The sun beats down and drops collect

And with each effort all are met

Slowly moving by and by

A life for me I have to find

I see another coming near

We join together and face this fear

With our strengths we form a team

Hope shines on our trying stream

A storm arrives, we separate

And then my heart begins to ache

A cliff arrives and I fall down

In the splash I will not drown

The rapids of life do crash and burn

And I am at loss for where to turn

Dear Heavenly Father up above

I know you're there with all your love

For in my thoughts I send this prayer

With my faith I have no fear

The Ocean shore I'll someday meet

Life right now is incomplete

I can wait through sun filled days

For life is joy in all its rays   

                 

~ Sarah Stufflebeam

Wide-eyed Wonder, An Original Poem

(Public Domain)

Wide-eyed Wonder

Andrew sits near the window frame to see the night wind blow

The golden leaves, the light spun silk dance merrily to and fro

Above the skies a wizard flies

A banshee laughs with glee

A sprite finds mischief down the moor

A spirit cease to be

Time for bed, Mother said, and tuckered out he came

A white knight hides

A Princess sleeps

A dragon quickly flees

All is gone, safe away, so you can never see

The World outside is calm

Nothing makes a sound

A World of secrets veiled

Nothing to be found

~ Sarah Stufflebeam

Shifting Cycles, an Original Poem

(On the way to California)

Shifting Cycles

Maybe it's this feeling

That gentle ache of not knowing

Wishing time could rewind

But knowing it can't

Wishing things could change

Wanting to Change

But trapped

Even that's an illusion

Nature's in constant motion

If the Earth can revolve

So can I

~Sarah Stufflebeam