Something old, something new

I’ve been a bit of a slacker this week with posting, so here’s two poems.

The first one, A Like Poem, is in my ebook of poetry, which you can still download for FREE until the end of May. Then the next one, which I just call Nathanael right now is a new one.

A Like Poem

We’re alike in different ways
Alike but different is sometimes okay

We’re alike but we talk differently;
Put me the South, but keep the Jersey in me

Alike and different, we split them in half
I try to be sad, but you make me laugh

We’re alike but we do different things;
I watch from the sidelines while you pull the strings

Alike but different is how we’ll stay
Alike but different is sometimes okay

Nathanael

Here am I sitting
under a fig tree
when you come along and
say Follow Me

My old life is dead
my soul is set free
I’ve been Nathanael
a proud pharisee

I climb to see you
from the sycamore tree
when you call me down and
then dine with me

My old life is dead
my soul is set free
I’ve been Zaccheus
a proud pharisee

I take the forbidden
fruit from the tree
when you call me out and
then you clothe me

my old life is dead
my soul is set free
I’ve been Adam and Eve
a proud pharisee

Yes, as for me I grow
like a green olive tree
in your house I flourish
for you so love me

my old life is dead
my soul is set free
I’m like David the psalmist
redeemed, your grace, holy

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Two Works in Progress

An excerpt from my latest short story (still just a draft):

He struck the match and the flame lit up his face. Pained eyes, tired brow.
“Ready?” he whispered.
I shook my head no. “I just want this to be over. I don’t want to be sad anymore,” I whispered back. My voice cracked on the last word.
He grabbed my arm. “Tessa,” he said, his voice low and worn out. “The hurting won’t stop with this. You know that, right?”
A felt a tear crawl out from my eyelid. I wiped it away. “Let’s just get this over with.” I said.
He threw the match on the leaves and papers and twigs and the flames grew into a blaze. The smoke kicked up ashes; the sparks popped and hissed at us.
We watched it burn. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

And here’s the first half of a poem I’m writing that explores the different trees in the biblical stories:

Here am I sitting
under a fig tree
when you come along and
say Follow Me

My old life is dead
my soul is set free
I’ve been Nathanael
a proud pharisee

I climb to see you
from the sycamore tree
when you come along and
then dine with me

My old life is dead
my soul is set free
I’ve been Zaccheus
a proud pharisee