poetry writing with Caitlyn.

how do we write poetry?

do we talk to our dogs, looking for inspiration?

do we take dancing shell fish, and listen to their sweet cries while we boil them in a pot?

do we mourn our mother's deaths, and use our tears for sonnets?

do we stare endlessly at a blank screen, hoping for inspiration?

do we dare really look inside, and see our inner scarecrows?

do we play with words the way we dribble a pass, and shoot and score?

do we give thanks for our wordplay, and lift up our poetic offerings?


is it a smoke we stare at, wishing we could join it's dance.

is it a fire in our bones, longing to get out?




Caitlyn's poem. #1

I don't enjoy the feel of tar,
 but I love the smell of smoke.
hmm, I don't know why,
but I'm always a big fan of warmth.

I will not admit what I like about warmth,
but it's tantalizing.
you can experience warmth without getting burned
for the most part...
not all the time.


how do I feel about fire?
I will not admit to any vandalism sir,
of the house where I lived,
or the school where the bully picked on me.
..but i will claim that fire can be righteous
and a thing of beauty, that charms
and then runs away
 from the one who seeks
to control it.

Why am i trying to be different, to make myself different to grow.
  I always slip back downhill anyways, and trying to get up and change
is soo hard.
 Especially because a large part of me doesn't actually want 
to grow or change, but
just to get the appearance of change;
 like a bird with different feathers
glued on. My God; Creator of the Universe; I need you.
Father, how I need you.

I like this poem needs a bit of work. but has potential.

a poem for Miranda
As she prepares for Adventure and Travels.

a star
a shining crown underneath,
A flash of a smile, quick and fast,
and soon to return, when the moment is merry.
eyes that see, and value, and care for many around her.
 A heart that wrestles with hard things, and deep troubles;
but is also willing to let go and relax with family and friends.
she is a strong fighter, who fights fears and demons from the past,
and comes out a little scarred, but mostly victorious.
A game changer,
she plays by her own rules, but
 is happy to invite you in;
 and learn how to have fun
and bless people together.

A tree, with good deep roots
of thoughtfulness, honesty
frugal, sometimes costly, vulnerability, and a
desire to change the world for the better.
Maybe in big ways someday, often in small ways;
usually with an ember in her heart that
challenges others, and herself, to feel
more,
be more,
 care more,
 than they are naturally inclined...

but which does this mostly gently,
and by example more than any other way.

Miranda Kelly- go forth  "Adventurous Warrior".
continue to care for others, try to find joy, being patient with yourself when it's hard
and may you, continue to dance in this topsy turvey world, and help
others who are  broken to heal and
learn to dance to
 Divine melodies too!
You got this! go rock it!



                  Sincerely David Pradzynski

writing yay! maybe a to do list as well.... we'll see

I wonder what a computer would be like, that could take commands
as haiku's, and interpret them into instructions. This is not a haiku, so I guess it wouldn't be able to interpret it then.

Falling forward, it's amazing how I can be  both so productive, and ineffective at the same time.

"therefore, because we have such a hope we are very bold..." is one of the verses I like, and wish to understand more in the future.

25,000 words... lets go!... hahahahahah skeptical laugh.

So the argument from beauty seems mostly intuitive,  where, you see things of great wonderfulness, and in your heart, it seems to point to a creator.

Betwixt and between
the falling petals
of the apple blossom tree
our eyes meet.
Your smile is less sure
than mine,
more of an awkward, self aware
half quirk,
but you are still smiling at me,
in the midst of a romantic sunset.
my heart is fluttering, way too hard
for each increasing inch of smile
you reveal. - like droplets of dew
upon the grass.  I want to sit in
a lot more sunsets with you.
The end.



Poems are fun.
both their words, spaces
and pauses
. . .
speak louder than words
normally speak.
...
giving glimpses interlocking
that mock, and strut, and reveal
tantalizing bits ...
of life.


Some days I feel like a sorcerer-poet
and the words writhe, and twist
and then . . . buckle down under my command.
sometimes I feel like a rambling drunkard
grasping thorns in the hand, being bit, letting them
draw blood, uncaring,
Sometimes I feel like a stuttering child,
where the words fly out-  with wild geese like abandon
stumbling over themselves to get in the air and
abandon me, carefree of the merry mess they
make in my heart. Words,
I like them.
but do they like me?


it is really easy to sexualize
almost anything, really
often the more innocent it
seemed at first, the more
steamy it seems after
your brain twists.
Undoing that twist
is sacred process,
best done with
the help of the Spirit.
often I feel compelled
by divine
grace,
breathing in and out
of me; pleading for
mercy. Internal Integrity
is still an ongoing process
for me.


Poems that rhyme
are fine
they aren't like
mine.
Most of the time,
anyways.



League of legends
is ridiculously appealing
with the number of combinations
synergies, and subtle number
crunching brought to bear.
I wish I wasn't so bad at it,
says almost everyone ever. (Or
maybe that's just me says a secret
dark part of my heart sadly).


Praying for girls
is way harder and less satisfying
than looking at girls.
The part of me that likes
looking at myself in the mythical imaginary mirror.
prefers when the praying for girls wins.

Robbery on a Sunday.

The destruction of trust
is best done slowly,
through simple neglect and small indiscretions.
this gives you longer to savour the flavour
as your children learn to give up on
you, a piece at a time.


I've heard that writers read a lot
(naturally).
But I've also heard, that when writing,
a writer often needs to stop reading.
gasp!
No comprendo Monsieur!


I have more sympathy
 for those writers
who talked exclusively
about
sex or
 other
topics.
it's very easy to get a one track mind
out here in the wilderness
of your head.


Classiness. and by that I mean quality, internal fiber
is more valuable than Charisma.
though the second one attains
flashier results, easier.


trying to get into the practice of doing a good
habit repeatedly, even one you enjoy
seems very much like swimming
upstream, vs a current that probably
gets harder even as you get tireder.
until unless you pass that magical moment
when things start going to other way.
I've experienced that moment a few times,
but so rarely
in my life,
that I'm basing this mostly on legendary hearsay.

Said the Duchess

Playing strip poker with any
 (but particularily your)
 butler
can be a memorable experience all
 it's own,
especially if he cheats.

On my mental functioning

passing a horse on a donkey
may be a little bit absurd,
but sucess at it is quite a heady
feeling.

The Question #38
What would you give for a taste
 of brilliance, imagination, and clarity,
 if you knew it wasn't going to last
and you were left with
only the memories
of what you used
to be?

round 2 fight!

'haha'that's funny, and 'man that's creepy!'

..  are way to close together it seems to me.

which may say more about my sense of humour 

than it does about humanity. *(I'll still blame it

on humanity however.)

often when Art-ing and being creative

my mind feels stretched, like a twizzler.

but my mind also feels delicious, like its' full of beautiful things.

When you haven't been depressed for a while

it can start seeming surreal, like why would someone with a good life like you

ever feel that way. 

When it comes back, the illusion backfires, you can maybe remember feeling

good, but it feels like forever ago, a distant memory.

pretty girl beside me, I think I caught you looking at me while

i was casting casual glances at you.

I wonder if either of us would work up the appetite

to talk to each other.  *Cynical me says probably not

Optimistic me is still in there, hoping. 

it's jazzy to have words

again

 pop up and do what they are supposed too

express, 

bedazzle, pop! relate,

 be broken, in

interesting 

ways.

I remember when on the meds my brain was broken

and words became dim, like mini *self powered lightbulbs

caught 

in a  spiders web. 

the urge to spin a yarn

is overwhelming;

but where would the cow come over the moon; except in our stories. 

I'll sing you a story tonight. 

League of legends

is ridiculously appealing

with the number of combinations

synergies, and subtle number

crunching brought to bear.

I wish I wasn't so bad at it,

says almost everyone ever. (Or

maybe that's just me

 says a secret

dark part of my heart sadly). 

Praying for girls

is way harder and less satisfying

than looking at girls.

The part of me that likes

looking at myself in the mythical imaginary mirror.

prefers when the praying for girls wins.

brief break before next class go!

sensitive teeth, yowl annoyingly
at me, reminding me of the
joy of pain,
a book that is good,
but makes more sense at a distance, than up close.


It does not specifically mention
not worrying about school,
but I think it's still
covered
in the Sermon on the Mount.
...
However, using the passages about
not worrying to possibly be lazy
also does not
 match up with scripture
and I seem to be excellent
 when it comes to
vacillating between two extremes.


Call me a penguin
I will not lie
call me a riddle
I will not die
Call me a head-shrink
I will not care
Call me a skunk
or a crazy kind of were-bear!
call me any and all of these things,
 as long as  you call me
you who makes my heart ring.



the energy that God supplies
is enormous, like a sun
trying to fit through
a grade 3 child's
classroom window.
some remodeling and
renovation may be necessary

A Poem for when I'm married. 
delight of my eyes,
please follow my lead,
and remove each
 article of clothing.
...
slowly or fast, I do not care
as long as it's bare.
Then hug me a long time
and lets go to sleep together.



when i believe two conflicting ideas
I call it a paradox,
and believe that somehow they go together.
When you believe two conflicting ideas,
my tendency is to call you illogical.

gettting those beats down son!

I'm not nervous just because
I'm going to talk to a pretty girl
with eyes that flash good fire
and who's love of God challenges me today.

I'm not nervous, about the tongue stumbling
mess of things I have
made in the past and worry that I'll
make in the future.
I'm not nervous.
.. I just think I should be.



When the meeting goes too well
and you connect too quickly.
when the meeting goes too well,
and your fun and witty and sure,
when the meeting goes too well,
and you know that you were at some of
your most brilliant moments
and that, if you let them
meet you again they will

recognize
your flaws

I like to think I don't
wear a mask
.. but that's more like
I only wear 3 to 5 masks
when almost everyone else
is wearing at least 7.

title, who needs a title... I need a title!

 why am I writing this?
my bottom hurts, and I would tell you more details
but
that would probably be TMI.


if there were dragons
in the world
it would
be both more and less cool
simultaneously.

Error not found
those moments when you type
into google
what seems like the most
reasonable phrase
to you, and don't get anything.


I like to think the small
almost invisible acts
of courage, we find ourselves
doing daily.
still have relevance and meaning
 in God's sight.


I wish I could write awesome
poems about Jesus..
but he is too big, scary
humane and beautiful.
if/when I think I understand him
it usually means that I have distorted
the mirror that I was using to look at him
more.


When I laugh, I feel like the whole
world should be laughing, when I cry
I feel the worlds indifference, Like
  I  weep alone.

I want depth,
but it escapes me
for consolation, I go to cleverness
but it outwits me
I debate just giving up writing,
but something strange inside
encourages me.


Loving God is strange, and hard
and so often feels unfamiliar.
I still intend to keep on going in this,
however.


God and sex, are two reccuring
topics in my mind. I think if distorted
both can be quite harmful..
and when viewed correctly.
both can be quite beautiful
(I don't really know much
about the second, taking it on
advice here.)
Needless to say, I'm quite interested
in knowing a lot more about both
of them.

Rick Rolling towards the future.

extra-ordinary poop bathroom stories

should almost always 

be edited

severely.

Understanding your own brain

is best done with teamwork 

from those who love you.

Lies creep in there and fester.

You get to feel the lies 

that the others

don't see.

They help remind you that it's a lie.

to boogeymen who like 

to creep down 

my stairs

at night.

. ..

shoo!

I have enough made up real fears

as it is. 

the humidity in Arkansas

should be drained out

of the air,

and turned into a  nice 

medium sized lake.

I think I'll write the 

governor of Arkansas,

and tell him this.

wordiness, is not a virtue,

which is a shame.

...

because I could use some more virtues.

you get a couple of words

to the lyrics wrong, and 

suddenly people 

on the treadmill beside you

are looking at

you funny.

fly, fly away pretty bird

and make a home in your nest

in someone else's hat.

Mine has no room

to spare. 

vampire cockroaches would 

be horrible, assuming

of course, that they

could still have children.

otherwise, cockroaches skittering

around 

looking to bite other 

cockroaches non-existant necks

are kind of funny.

to all the graceful gazelle- like 

people, who are my friends

Don't look down

on us fuzzy inelegant duckling

people like myself.

We already look down on ourselves

enough anyways.

Wanting, but failing to become swans.

fruit ninja's should become a real thing

only assuming that they are well 

behaved

in public, and don't go around exploding fruit

too unnecessarily. 

I (almost) singlehandedly want to turn

webcomics into a widely used,

respected medium.

Dictator of the world, also sounds nice.

and a great stepping 

stone, to getting the first goal

accomplished.  Dictator of the world!

...

were coming back to that

one, often.