Soul-Expanding

The Blip 

By: the iHope Poet

When the big things are little 

and the little feel big, 

when the waves of sheer longing 

make your heart feel like lead,

and you don't have a reason 

to be stuck in your head;

but you  do, and you are 

since you're lost in The Blip.                                                     

It was just a few moments 

in the grand scheme of things,

and it ended so quickly, 

so it's hard to believe 

that it happened at all, 

but you know how you feel. 

And it doesn't feel good 

to be lost in The Blip. 

You don't blink for the fear 

that you'll lose all the proof 

of the challenge you're facing, 

the pain you've lived through. 

It consumes you, it changed you,

short-lived though it was, 

and you cling with your might

to hold onto The Blip. 

In due time, you remember 

there is rest to reclaim 

through the grace of the One 

who has suffered the same. 

Then, embraced in His love, 

filled with pure, refined joy,

your whole soul is expanded 

coming out of The Blip. 

     

         Lovetta Reyes Cairo Art via 

How will you do it?

via

Be Sure
By: the iHope Poet

To trust, a thing of hope in lifted burden,
of turning not towards the paths behind.
When trusting, cares may still arise in number,
but as we move in faith the doubts subside.

To trust, you choose to love before you fear them.
You choose to look inside them very first.
Then with those open eyes you're filled with vision
of how the best in them defeats their worst.

We trust God; by so doing, He can change us.
With trust will come a strength fit to endure,
to carry through, while lifting those around us.
And loving them will make our trusting sure.

You Deserve the World

From years before... 

Not Big Enough

By: the iHope Poet

I wanted to give you the world.

And I tried.

But my world was too big for you --

You couldn't return the favor.

and I was put on hold.

You deserve all the happiness in the world.

But you won't take mine.

You deserve someone you can give everything to

Before they have the chance to give anything at all.

But you wait for me to give first every time.

You can't even say those three words anymore.

And because I see now

How you just can't have

That kind of love with me,

I'm finally

Letting you go.

via

It hurts worse..

Lie Softly

By: the iHope Poet

Gentle fingers 

often torment

more than careless words. 

via

You Chose the Sky

The Last Kiss

By: the iHope Poet

Something pressed against my lips, 

I think it was your final kiss. 

A finger traced my aching heart -

all thoughts coherent grew amiss. 

Something pulled me close to you, 

I think it was that fear I knew. 

My locks were rattled, cages sprung, 

And as you turned, you proved me true. 

Some perfection held me still - 

I won't forget my dying will, 

to make you stay inside my arms

- and for a moment I was filled. 

Something told me not to cry, 

and I refrained as we goodbyed. 

But endless were the tears that fell, 

as soon as you took to the sky. 

Something lingered on my lips, 

You knew it was our final kiss. 

But you will never feel the pain 

of losing such a love as this. 

via

A prayer.

Lasting is the Trial
By: the iHope Poet

Waiting is a prayer.
A hope that swells so full inside,
and stirs up the air of your day in a stride.

Longing is a loss.
It pours your soul out on the floor,
all joys are tossed for the sake of what's more.

And lasting,
Lasting is the trial.
Requiring such a drawn-out while.

So much will and deep-end struggle,
longing for respite somewhere.
But waiting is the prayer.

via

in each, you'll find a universe.

Reality
By: the iHope Poet

We live for ourselves -
And no one really lives for us.
Though we breathe as if
our breaths were numbered,

via

and think our thoughts
significant.

We dance in the dark -
To a song we sing in lonely chorus.
A solo no one else will hear.
With words that plead for kind rapport..
despite our selfish
tendencies.

We moan and weep
as if the world will hear our cries.
And though a glance - or two -
may turn our way,
the things they see will never be
the thing we meant;
because,

they do not hear, they do not sing,
they do not watch the dance.
And we
live for ouselves,

To each their own
reality.

   

Pain Lies in Paint.

The Wall
By: theiHope Poet

I am the beam in the plaster
holding up your house.
Sheltering your cobwebs, all the spiders,
and that mouse.
I see him scrambling for cheese, asking please,
never heard.
Only trapped.
And I watch as his neck's getting snapped.

via

I am the arm with the bruises,
taking dings, scratches, cuffs.
Never shying, never swaying, only staying
through the rough.
People bump,
people stain,
and I hear them in their pain.

I am the stone for heads to cry on,
cheeks to press to, tears to fall,
and I keep them in my corner when
they struggle standing tall.
Words get slurred and breaths are ragged,
love and pain and passion here --
lonely moments pass as well..

And I remain with eyes and ears.

Stains and Cleansers

I Fell Thrice
By: the iHope Poet

Thrice I fell in the murky pond.
The first time, cold it proved to be.
The second fall I didn't mind,
and the third, quite warm
-- and done effortlessly.

The mud I minded right at first,
but once I considered it a stain
'twas easy to take the second fall,
for dirt can build if it's to remain.

When all is said and done, I was not clean.
I left alone the falls I made,
and didn't like the thought of work
to scrub away the thickened stains.

But there is a way to clean them out,
a cleanser, pure with love and hope.
And I shall profit from its hand,
though thrice I fell into the pond
-- for Christ's a cure that understands.

via

A Goal Attained

I've Arrived

By: the iHope Poet

On looking through a looking glass 

I saw a future, bright.

And I saw fit to make it mine, 

to keep it in my sight. 

The work, I knew, would take my all 

to reach the distant mark. 

I also knew I'd need the help 

of God to keep the spark. 

No easy task ahead of me

would let me meet my goal, 

But somehow I did not give up, 

And here I am, still whole. 

On looking through a looking glass

I saw a future, bright. 

But oh, I didn't realize

just how blessed I'd feel this night. 

via

On Looking Back

Old Ropes
By: the iHope Poet

Life moves along so quickly.
Often, I don't hold onto one rope long enough
to realize how suddenly
it slipped from my fingertips.

And the old ropes are replaced so easily.
Whenever I'm found empty handed,
It takes about a split second
before a new one is placed in my grip.

It's only when I stand upon life's hilltops,
looking back at the end of each day, month, year . . .
and the setting sun lights the paths I've long crossed-over;
that I realize all I've passed through.

It is then that I see how far
my own two feet can carry me -- and how swiftly
those neverending ropes drag me forward.
Ever forward. Leaving behind the old and grabbing onto the new.

So I'm sorry. That I never stopped long enough
to look back and say goodbye. I didn't realize I'd be gone so soon.
And by the time that sun glowed orange and pink across the horizon,
you were far away and left on your own path.

Probably glancing back occasionally, too.

via

via

Told you so - don't make me tell you again.

You think it. I know it. 

By: the iHope Poet

I know what I know

and I mean it.

Whatever you say is considered.

For the words that you say will not make me delay

or unknow what I know

to be truer. 

You think that you know

so you question

and contradict every conception.

For there's danger in anything I have to say

if it makes you rethink

your deception

(I've been wrong plenty of times. Now it's your turn.) 

Again and Again pt 2

On Glass Cages

I look in front of me and I see the world beyond, the road ahead, the pavement my feet are anxious to tread. My thirsty gaze drinks it all in, but my fingertips know what holds me back. An unseen barrier filters through the vision of what lays before me, yet denies me passage to continue the journey.

In reality I’m free, but I see the fish in front of me is not. He swims in earnest, agitated circles, but does he know what I know? Does he understand his fate in the bowl, or has he forgotten already?

Glass jars hold many objects, from swimming life to canned goods, their walls are both sanctuaries as well as cages. In many ways, I feel as if I stand behind their transparent walls myself -- perhaps as if drifting in a bottle in an open sea, tossed upon the waves of day-to-day experience -- or else sitting still in a panic, or banging against the glass, longing to break free and move. Some may consider the boundaries of a jar and think of safety and peace. I do not.

When I think of glass itself I often shudder, simply because the idea of seeing potential yet knowing it is not mine to reach is harrowing.

But I am not talking about many of the social barriers that perhaps you, reader, would associate with this scenario. For myself I do not speak of stereotypical “glass ceilings”, equal rights or free choice only; rather, I relate to the freedom of speech. Just days ago I discovered the limitations that come from a world of glass barricades, where people fight for the illusion of freedom but lock away those who have deeper perception by staying them from speaking out against the glass. I remember the tremors that coursed through my body as I realized how silenced I felt, incapable of being heard clearly by all those who chose not to hear, or else couldn’t for the sake of the jar that separated them from me. I felt as though my desperate grasp on reality, leaving sweaty fingerprints smeared on the window that blocked my words, was slowly tearing to shreds.

The obstacle I speak of exudes a wider view than that which is seen by a goldfish, a message in a bottle, or even a freethinker. I find myself trapped in a cage that shows me the world, as it disintegrates before my eyes, while I and the people who, somewhere, stand beside me, are forced to watch helplessly; though we know what we could say and do if only we were truly free.

This cage is not one typically considered, yet it exists. Even more startling, it traps those outside its walls as well. The words I am “free to speak” do not often break past the thickness of the glass, leaving those who lie beyond with deaf ears and single-minded thoughts. My question is then, what freedom do we really have? What are we losing? And what are we truly fighting for?

If we are ever to answer these we need to learn to see the glass and not through it. For that is the key to setting the fish free, to cracking the code from the bottle, or to hearing those who are simply not heard anymore in today’s society.

via

Imperfect as we are . . .

Hero?
By: the iHope Poet

What makes a hero?
A cape and a suit, or a flimsy mask hiding his eyes?
Sometimes, he's a little more worse for wear
than what he seems, when he comes swooping down
to save you right when you need him most.

What makes him valiant?
The courage it takes to fly at the speed of light?
Or maybe the bullets he dodges, the conflicts he ends.
Well, every hero has his kryptonite,
but the real ones know their weakness.

What makes him daring?
Is this where shaping a hero comes into play?
Do the capes and the suits and the masks help him hide all his fears?
A hero may be valiant, he may be bold and elite;
but perhaps, he is simply as grand as he is because he does not know
what makes a hero.

he·ro [heer-oh]

noun, plural he·roes; for 5 also he·ros.

1. a man of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his brave deeds
and noble qualities.
2. a person who, in the opinion of others, has heroic qualities or has
performed a heroic act and is regarded as a model or ideal.

via

where to go

When You're Bound
By: the iHope Poet

It's a curious thing
how simply pleasurable sin can seem
and how it tends to make you free
until, you're not.
A curious thing.

And how subtly,
the flaxon cord is tied loosely
around your neck -- at first you see,
and then, it's tight.
So subtly.

Quite frightening,
to realize the bondage of that string
that pulled you down the path, unfree,
and now you're trapped.
How frightening.

And so it be
that when you throw your agency

via

to evil's hands, for pleasure's things,
the chains are locked. And late
it be.

 . . .

A curious thing, though,
all redeemed.
The bonds are cut, your path set free
to turn around.

Love's curious thing.

Is it true?

Wrong

By: the iHope Poet

Anger sparks in flames of accusation,

Defiance rises in gusts of staggered blame

And when the gale collides in time to undermine the fire

One must stop to ask himself, "am I and sin the same?"

via

of the King of Kings

Far Above

By: the iHope Poet

There is a blessing, perhaps in the form of a curse . . .

It is a hope of all hopes

to look into the face of doubt

and see the impossible reflect in its eyes

A faith of all faiths

to shine through the night, even

when raging winds threaten to snuff out the flame

It is trust, above all other trust, 

to relinquish one's fingers 

into the unseen hand of whatever fate may be named

And a promise of all promises,

which requires each of these efforts, 

and in turn grants the bravest, wisest and strongest of hearts

 . . . to that soul who stuck to his guns

via

Contradict Me

When You Need Fixing
By: the iHope Poet

What If
You get what you need
and not what you want?
Doesn't that hurt worse?
Maybe you survived
in the end,
But did you truly live?

via

Because you tried your best
and you got what you earned.
But love,
love is not deserved.
Love is a wish simply granted,
freely given.

So I'll fix you, yes,
but first, please suffer.
Suffer so that the reality of being
put back together
is clearer to you.

And the difference between
working to earn
and hoping to get,
is a fixed truth in your mind.

Note: this is a double take on the touching lyrics of Fix You by Coldplay

Lost and Found

the Loser's Find

By: the iHope Poet

Hand over brow, sweeping

horizon 

over and over to find

something new. 

Head over heals, falling 

in circles,

don't even realize you don't 

have to look. 

You do have to lose. 

Lose like a loser. 

Fall as a failure of life 

would fall. 

And reach for the skies. 

Reach like a beggar

reaches for what he has lost

and found. 

via

What do you find by losing it?

Blind - ish

Can't You See?
a song
By: the iHope Poet

Baby girl, so lost and lonely,
Little child, without a friend.
Can't you see, that what you're wanting,
Isn't there when you pretend?

Oh, can't you see,
Can't you see,
Won't you see?
Can't you see what you wanted to be?
"
Can't you fly through the dark and be free?

Of a world made light and clearer
Shines a daughter, full of care.
But she won't see you if you're fashioned
From a place that isn't there.

via
she's not a Pretender!

Oh, can't you see,
Can't you see,
Won't you see?
Can't you see where you wanted to be?
"
Can't you see where you want to fly free?

There's a girl with worn out fears, she
Used to cry herself to sleep.
It didn't seem like life could change her,
The way she made the angels weep,

But can't you see,
Who she's turned out to be, now?
Oh, can't you see,
How she's learned how to see..
Oh, can't you see,
Can't you see,
Won't you see?
Can't you see that she's finally free...

Baby girl, once lost and lonely,
Now she walks with purpose, bold.
If you ask her what she fears,
She would say she doesn't know -
- cuz fears aren't where she wants to go.