Last night I was pensive. I thought a lot about my relationship with God, and how I've felt his hand in my life. This week has been a rollercoaster of emotion, but I'm finally back to normal - business as usual. SC is kickin' still. But after all this thought, I was browsing the internet and stumbled upon one of my poems I had written back in 2002, had posted on an old blogger site, and hadn't thought of since. But for some reason, it struck a chord, and I thought I'd share it. The sk...

I look across the verdant field The sky, completely overcast It seems to mirror perfectly The way I used to feel Tumultuous, twisted painfully The thoughts of just what could have been The memory of your lovely face Is all I've left that's real The lightning comes, it strikes the ground And throws its sparks across the field The grass, once green, now coppers from The licking, burnin...

Si hubiera decidido escaparme de tu amor Yo pudiera recibido un montón menos dolor Puedo ver las golondrinas, el rocío y el sol Si acaso tú me hablas, cerraré mi corazón Porque me cansan tus miradas . . . llego harto de este son Puedo ver las golondrinas, el rocío y el sol Siento ciego en la niebla de esta tonta confusión El claro cielo me fascina - ya he perdido la razón ¡Qué perdición! Puedo ver las golondrinas, el rocío y el sol © 2006 Braeden Jones

Mist If I had decided to escape your twisted love I could've avoided a lot of this pain I can see the sparrows, the dew, and the sun! If you speak to me, I will shut you out of my heart Because I'm tired of those looks you give me; I'm fed up with the sound of your voice I can see the sparrows, the dew, and the sun! I feel blinded by the mist of confusion I'm fascinated by the clear sky - I've lost all reasoning! Dammit! I can see the sparrows, the dew, and the sun! -...

Writhing, twisting, contorted and pretzeled accordioned into my pigeonhole. Once upon a time I was a man - now I'm a hollow shell, a quiet memory of "what's-his-name" and "who's his face" - I changed to try and find myself but lost my identity. I fit the mold (my pigeonhole) because, in the end, I'm not present - only remembered. © 2006 Braeden Jones

The thunder cracks, the rain descends The gulls conspire across the wind This savage strength can make me cringe My neck-hairs start to stand on end I squint my eyes against the flash The lightning sears the woods in white Yet just as quickly night returns My florid fear begins to grow Until I look at you Until I see your face Until I realize That you are by my side For I know that you are everything We run and frolick in the cold We laugh our dangers in the face We rev...

Leaves of azure brush my lips Clock is ticking back the time Flakes of ashes cover me Reason wavers through the rhyme Luminescence frightens me I feel safer in the dark First my skin begins to sting This pain leaves its wicked mark First the light devours my eyes It burns deep into my soul My heart palpitates again I'm consumed, I'm burning whole I've become a phantom, flayed Like a creature in the light Darkness dissipates, divides In the face of failing night Will y...

Venid, y no temáis; aquí, tendréis paz. El cielo azul os protege, Lleno de nubes, viento, pájaros, recuerdos pasados del sol. Venid; Las nubes se llenan de agua, Agua que cae, besa los labios dulces y, con tiempo, nutre la tierra. Venid; Los pájaros volan en el viento blanco, Gaviotas gritan, la brisa os mueve – titubean las flores. Venid; Aquí, cada uno crece bien; Cada pesadillo desaparece; Cada dolor se olvida en el viento; Cada recuerdo muere en la luz del cielo azul. ...

Imposing edifices rise . . . The ground around me starts to crack The grass erupts in waves of earth The tarmacadam shimmers, black These buildings 'round me reach so high They seem to kiss the very sun They rattle loudly in the wind They shive, shake, they come undone The glass at once begins to fall These shards, obsidian and blue I dart from side to side in fear They're separating me from you The jaws of hell gape open wide They move to st...

Maravillo en la arquitectura de tu cuello; el color rojizo de tus mejillas; la linea fina de tu mandíbula. Asombro me dan tus ojos; me penetran como dardos en el torbellino, me cortan, me hacen sangrar. Te quiero aquí en mis brazos, para amarte, para mostrarte que te quiero. (aquí) (en mis brazos) Tus manos, como telarañas, me captan; tus muslos me fascinan; tus pies, aunque a veces apestan, son perfectos; dedos largos, uñas pintadas. Me ofreces todo - y todo lo tomo. Hace a...

This originally started out as a pantoum , but I took some rather hefty liberties with the form. (But hey, I kept the basic rhyme scheme while trying some diversification with the lines.) At any rate, it's nothing special, but I thought it would be worth posting. But then, I've been wrong before. Anyway. If you read, let me know what you think. Continental Drift Now you pull away from me, hesitant and cold; are you shaken by something you see, the things I've said, or what ...

Am I pathetic or what?  I can't for the life of me give a title to this poem.  It's a sonnet, incidentally. But hey, classic forms of poetry seem dead anyway.  Most poetry you read is dreadfully constructed 'free verse' that's basically just crapping words out onto the page in whatever 'structure' you want and calling it a poem.  You're not Octavio Paz, people - don't even try. But yeah, this is an old-school Italian-style sonnet.  Eleven syllables a verse, fou...

Thanks first to Kelly for resurrecting the JUWC.  I'm so sick of what passes as political and religious 'debate' on this site that I'd much prefer writing and reading such as this.

In the OP, I posted a haiku as a joke, saying that was my submission, but then I was bitten by the haiku bug, and today I was finally able to sit down and finish my haiku story.  it's nothing special, but it doesn't suck as bad as I feared it would.

Manos morenas, dedos largos, estrechos, uñas pintadas perfectamente púrpureas, muñeca frágil, delicada, venas azules.   Hombro fuerte, lleno de energía, alfilado, cubierto por bufanda negra y gruesa, piel blanda, oscura, dulce, salada.   Cuello porcelano, mejillas rosadas con pecas, labios llenos, rojos, cálidos, plenos, ojos espléndidos, verdes, sonrisa única.   Te beso. ...

Waves of static pulsate, tides of white noise, punctuated by the fleeting beats of washed-out drums, slowly emerging from a neolithic paste of tribal dissonance, coalescing into the friendly, familiar sounds of a heavy beat. Simple piano melodies wash in with the white waves, bringing in tow the guttural guitars, fuzzed beyond recognition. Point, counterpoint, piano and guitar dance like lovers, diametrically opposed, yet ultimately complementary. The harrowing, haunting bass...