Arden's Garden

"Run"   Laces tight, my sneakers pound the concrete track, and the sound spurs me on, thud-thump thud-thump In each stride a little jump Music blaring upbeat songs so three laps doesn't seem long Breathing steady, in and out Running a familiar route Bright sunlight and burning heat I battle and try to beat my record, yet satisfied with working out, having tried Sweat beads, drips, soaks shirt and hair Triumphantly, I don't care Two miles down, one to go Face the wind, my pace grows Aching muscles, ragged breath I got this, a quarter left Ignore the burn, sprint it in Count it as another win Today's poem is pretty self-explanatory. I'm a runner, though not on any teams and certainly not fast enough to compete! Still, I enjoy it, so I had plenty of inspiration to write about it.  Hebrews 12:1-3 Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with ...

Through the Eyes of an Ant highways through crevices in the bark of trees like helicopters are the buzzing of bees single blades of grass and massive trees to climb  crossing just one front yard would take a lifetime a whole city is built beneath one small rock yet the distance around is an hour's walk  to be fed for a month of one slice of bread  when a needle's eye is the size of your head shelter from thunderstorms in an acorn's shell then a raindrop provides as a water well lost and wandering on the page of a book that disrupted the preprogrammed route you took scavenging for food is your only life goal  provide for the colony is your sole role  communicate with antennae and stay in a line one dropped candy piece is a treasured gold mine a crumb of bread, a seed, the wing of a fly cut of a leaf, a beetle, a lizard eye a dried-up earthworm would be rather ideal  though an army is needed to haul the meal  or spend your life exploring one little plant...

About a week ago, I opened my poetry journal (I keep a journal separate for just poetry) and I realized that I had not written a poem since 2021. It's been TWO YEARS. Granted, I've written the two poems I posted on this blog recently, but those I stressed over and perfected (at least, in my mind) - they weren't the real heart and soul of what I consider to be poetry (I'll explain below). I grew up writing poetry. It was my first experience with writing, long before I began longer stories and novels. I even wrote a poem that I recited at a talent show. I had poems published in online anthologies. Poetry was a foundational element of my writing career.  I was shocked that I hadn't written a heart-bleeding poem in two years. True, I'd written other things in that time, but there's something special about 'real' poetry. While novels, books, and stories elegantly weave morals and themes and analogies of real-life struggles, poetry is raw. Poetry is your h...

Waiting (for Guidance) Cross off the days and count the minutes A week, how many seconds are in it? Watch the grass grow and the leaves fall Is this time well-spent or worth nothing at all? Questions loom and I wonder when  I'll find direction, a purpose, and then whether I'll find success or fall to my doom or land in the stars when I shoot for the moon Do I have what it takes? Nerve, courage, and guts? Wisdom, experience, wit, and whatnot? or will I be content to settle for less,  accept any outcome of doing my best? Can I run fast enough to chase lofty dreams? Or will I push too hard that I run out of steam? If I carve my place in the world and forge my own path, will it bring me fulfillment and joy that will last? How do I make decisions so complex and grand? What do I aim for and where do I stand? A blank slate is awesome if you have a clue of who you are and what you want to do. But as for me, I'll keeping waiting and praying each day and trust God will guide me to th...

The most common writing-related complaint I hear, from both people who love writing and those who hate is, is the struggle of writer's block. Oftentimes, the people who hate writing dislike it because of this hassle. "How do I write when I can't think of anything to write about?!" Somedays, the words just won't word themselves. *sigh* I wrote my first manuscript in 2018, 50k words in the 31 days of July, to prepare for NaNoWriMo. I succeeded in doing this. However, before this, I hated writing with a passion. I was an active child and hated to sit still for long. I would barely start writing some assignment my mom (my teacher, since I was homeschooled) required, when my mind would wander and I'd lose all sense of what I was writing about. Yet, when my creativity bloomed and I began needing an outlet for the stories I thought up, I began to consider writing books. A friend suggested this idea and I tried in vain for a while to put words on paper (literally with...