O Death

Death is a silent and efficient stalker,
Realized only by its bitter aftertaste.

We watch its effect, but are unaffected.
We seem to only view it with passing interest.

What is death but the beginning of a new life?
For certainly, it cannot only be the end.

--C.R.E.

36. Dreamer

36. Dreamer

Why do we stare at clouds
And will them to be something else?
Is suspended water vapor
Not good or pure enough for us?
Must we re-imagine the world around us
In order for it to become acceptable?

Indeed, as humans, we aren’t
Such simple beings. We refuse
To take the normal at face value
And instead overstate the common
As something magical or rare.

Perhaps it is that very trait that makes
Up the walking complexity that is Sentience.

Or maybe, we’re simply little Dreamers.

—C.R.E.

Look

As we stare longingly
Into each others' eyes,
We run together like
Colors of paint...
Mixing, creating
Something new and
Even more beautiful.
I can see what you
Think of me, but
I can't understand it.
I have done nothing
To deserve such admiration!
I have simply loved you
The way you deserve
To be loved...
That is not enough
For that look.
I love that look,
But I beg of you--
Stop looking at me that way.
I cannot stand up to
The purity and rawness
Of it all.

--C.R.E.

For Harley

For now, I don't want to talk about it, but this is for Harley. He will be sorely missed.

They tell me that you went quickly...
Is that supposed to bring me comfort?
Still, you went, never again to grace
My eyes, ears, or touch with you.

I already miss your infectious laugh,
Your peculiar way with words,
And the way you always kept me in line...
How will I last the rest of a lifetime?

You’ll never know my loved ones—
More than anything, that knowledge hurts.
My children, my mate, my grandkids...
They’ll never know that man whom I love.

Where do we go from here?
How do we amend these thoughts and feelings?
How do we replace what he means to us?
The simple answer: we don’t.

—C.R.E.

37. Mist

37. Mist

It swallows us up
As we walk
Side by side
Down life’s rocky road...
Mist.
Mist made up of
Lies, mistrust, and pain.
But, hand in hand,
We’ll make it through
The mist all right.
We will dock our ships
In a safe and clear harbor—
Free of others’ mist
And alone with each other.

—C.R.E.

About Me

I stood in the rain tonight, just to feel it pour down on me. I felt alive for a moment and I savored the smell... It refreshed me. And then ruined me.
I... miss long hugs goodbye. And feeling a head lay on my shoulder for comfort and care. I miss her scent. And the way her hand felt in mine.
But... I don't miss her. I still have her, after all. Things are just different. Right, surprisingly. I'm okay. Just nostalgic. I miss it all, but I don't necessarily want it now. Does that make sense? Anyone?
Memory is... a disgustingly powerful and cruel mistress. When did rain stop being just rain? And songs... Songs are the worst and the best! Man... I can't listen to any of the album "Plans" by Deathcab For Cutie anymore without smiling. Or parts of Save Me San Francisco. (Rachel! Deathcab and Train. I recommend those two... haha.) I love the memories of my past, but I guess, I miss them. I long for those feelings again, but when I feel them, it just reminds me that I haven't been feeling them for a long time. If that makes sense.
This is really personal for me, by the way. I'm surprised that I'm writing about it. If you haven't noticed, I'm crazily private. I always have been. So, bear with me here... I'm trying to open up and explain myself.
I've never been in a relationship. I've come close a few times... But it always falls apart somehow. And that's okay. Very okay, in fact. I wouldn't have wanted any of what's happened to have changed.
I also, for the record, don't plan on having any form of a relationship for the next few years. Yes, years. Not until after my mission, when I can really get as serious as I'd like to be. I'm a very serious minded individual... You've noticed, I'm sure.
I guess what I'm trying(and failing) to get at is that the reason I'm glad I've never had a relationship is that I'm in no position to be looking for "the one" or "forever", but it's ultimately where my mind would go. I'm too serious. It's an oddity of me.
And so I write silly little poetry about how I would like to feel about a woman someday--indeed, how I feel that I should feel about the woman that I ultimately marry. Sorry, but it's on my mind a lot. It's how I'm wired.
Anyhow... Don't take me too seriously, any of you that read this. I'm just a silly little hopelessly romantic wanna-be-poet trying to cram my thoughts and feelings into words that I hope aren't trite and unoriginal.
I'm just me. I hope that's okay.
--C.R.E.

77. Memories

77. Memories

When did the rain stop being just rain?
Alas, even the sight of the clouds and its
Fresh and clean scent carry with them
A heavy set of memories—laced with
A blend of sweet and dangerous emotions.

When did the itchy, pale green grass
And the shade of a tall and splendid oak
Come to stand for the weight of a head
On my shoulder or the pressure of another
Hand holding mine for the first time?

Why can’t a song just mean one thing?
Indeed, some seem to have a certain sentience...
They call to me at different times, saying,
“Come. Come and feel the way you felt then—
And know that those times have past.”

To dream back on the days of long ago is
A bittersweet thing filled with joyous melancholy.
But still, I take in the sights, sounds, and smells of rain,
I roll in the grass and savor the itchy sting under the oak’s shade,
And I know the song’s consequence—but I listen all the same.

—C.R.E.

19. Tears

19. Tears

I tried to dry them,
But you pulled away
And let them fall and pool
Into what became
Like a river to me.

A river... Salty liquid
Made by the crestfallen.
Crushed hopes, countless fights,
Needless words, and anger—
More anger than I knew
I could possess.

You seemed ride that river
Away from me to a
Far-off mansion filled with
New ideas, new memories,
And a new you—No longer
The weeping waif from before,
But now a powerful, independent,
And composed woman.

My mistake:
I loved that woman the way
Little boys love little girls.

—C.R.E.

Addiction

Fixated on one "last" fix...
Is this what my life has become?
Am I so far gone—so deeply
Entrenched in this sorry thing—
That I am no longer a familiar
Face to my very own soul?

Life.
I can feel it slipping away
As I partake once more of
The very thing my heart
Decries as the bane of my existence—
A sorry existence, indeed.

I know not how, I feel not guilty,
I wish not an end, and I can not
Find a way to stop myself...
Nor can any but me stop me.

I cry dry tears as I
Tear my soul asunder.
And the smile on my face
Has become perpetual disgust—
With myself and with my sin.

"Make it end!" I plead in darkness,
Crying unto light, "Bring me back
Into thy halls of joy and eternity!
Save me from myself and this false
And fleeting sense of happiness!"

A ghostly whisper seems to fill
My ears with a simple and soul
Wrenching phrase: "Look first to
Thyself, beloved, and then unto
The heavens unto which you cry."

—C.R.E.

13. Running Away

13. Running Away

Is it easier for you?
You said it would be,
But is it?
You did it without
Thought of consequence,
Others, or of your own
Fragile state.

You told me that
Leaving was the only
Viable option for you.
“The Sun has set for me,”
You said, “and the night
Is cold and lonely.”

I tried to fix it...
But who can make
The Sun itself rise
Within a barren heart?

—C.R.E.

45. Heart Song

45. Heart Song

Don’t tell me
That the blossoms
Didn’t bloom for me.
For I know that
It was by my
Presence that they
Were nurtured and
Did spring so
Floridly forth.
My soul, my heart,
My happiness...
It must have fed them.
—And the sun!
It shines brighter today
Than it did on days prior.
Only a godly work—
Love or divine intervention—
Could make the day
Seem so focused
And light—
As though I was
Being carried on some
Seraphic wings by
A Higher Being
Whose name I know
Almost better than
My very own.
So, yes, the flowers
Surely bloomed because of
The Song of My Heart—
Whose tune I blame
Entirely upon her
And her simple grace.

—C.R.E.

Bittersweet

It smelled of you—
That room, I mean.
The place you frequented,
Lived, slept, and grew.

It made me feel hazy,
As though, all at once,
I was no longer a
Tangible being,
But something more
Ethereal and ghostly...

It made me long for
Those days that you spent
In my arms and I in
Your heart and mind—
My name was always on
Your tongue, then.

Where did they go?

It’s bittersweet, you know—
Spending time with her.
I remember the good with
A smile on my face and
A thread of gold lifting my heart,
But I long for her all the more
When I see her or smell her.
For I know that we cannot,
And will not, be together.

—C.R.E.

3. Making History

3. Making History

All of creation seems to intake sharply
At the thought of your newest discovery.
What ends will you accomplish?
What goods will you perform? Or is
Evil your dark intent? Only one thing
Is for sure—Life will never be the same.
After you have your way with it,
Will you nonchalantly toss it aside
Or cling to it lovingly as a Savior and King?

Pregnant with hope, admiration, and fear,
I will follow you regardless.
As a simple man, making my mark
Is my only moral compass—
Though a sad and meager existence,
It is, that I live day in and out.

—C.R.E.

2. Complicated

I registered for all of my classes today at orientation! I'm a strict music major now. Woohoo!
Today was pretty awesome. I found out that I tested out of two English classes, a Politics class, and a History class. Good times. I'm also doing a bunch of music classes! Yay! I'm taking 17 credits this semester... Wish me luck.
Lieto started again tonight! So great! SO much fun. I love to sing. I love music. Hence why I'm so excited for school to start.
So, we're singing for the re-dedication of a Catholic Church... In a month, I think. Gorgeous music. Beautiful singers. A wise man once said, "To perfect yourself, surround yourself with those better than you." I try to live by that.
So... I wrote another theme. About a hero of mine. Tell me what you think?

2. Complicated

The reason behind a character—
His thoughts, ideas, quirks,
Emotions, reactions, and persona.

The concept of a Legend
That changes lives who go on
To change lives who go on
To change lives who go on to...
A legacy.

That man whom I admire and
Long to be like one day—
For he has made me who I am.

The love I hold for him based upon
The knowledge that I am now
A piece of him and he a piece of me...

A Legend’s Legacy, born from
Those who know about and care for
The man behind the Legend.

And, ultimately, the love he
Has shown unto us that we
Freely hand back, multiplied.

—C.R.E.

1. Introduction

So... I'm not too original. I'm copying you, Neffy. In a sense, at least.
I have a list of 100 themes. Meet theme 1, Introduction.

P.S. This is a great idea! What a fun, difficult way to train yourself. Hence why I stole it. Don't be too angry?

It’s simple to say hello
To one you newly meet.
But what do you truly gather
From such an easy word?

We cover ourselves in this
Eternally devolving rhetoric...
A single word substituting a hundred
New and fresh thoughts.
Why is it so impossible to share
Oneself with others?

Speak to me in terms I can
Comprehend—feel, touch, taste!
Talk of dappled-light,
Crisp grass... Anything but
The trite terms we frequent
In these days of apathy and
Social retardation.

Tell me things—sweet things,
Sad things, things better left
Buried beneath social norms.
Let me in on anything,
Anything at all!
Tell me your fears, tell me your joys!
For these, my friend,
Introduce a new you to me—
A real you, left covered by
The tradition of man.

—C.R.E.

A post about me? Wow, it is.

So, I've been reading a good friend's blog(yes Rach, you) and I just love how she writes about her life and is humorous and all that jazz. It's sort of inspiring. So, I thought, why not? I'll try at least.
I recorded an album on Saturday and am stoked to hear it! Okay... so, story time. At the beginning of this year I got a bunch of guy friends together and we started an A cappella group that we ultimately named "More Than Words". It was a blast! May rolled around and we performed a bunch of the pieces we had learned in concert. Now, everyone is leaving to college and on missions, so we thought that we'd have one final blowout--an album! SO much fun. 11 songs. I'll let you know how it sounds.
Ah... I love music. And singing. Life goes well for me when I'm singing, it seems. Or... It feels as if it does.
I use ellipses a lot, if you haven't noticed. You'll get used to it... or die trying. =)
I've been writing a lot lately. But you know that, with the poems and all. I guess what I mean to say is that I've been writing even more than you've seen--prose, excess poems, etc. It's fun. I have a huge passion for it, but a long way to go for my talent to catch up with how big my passion is. Wish me luck.
I'm going to hit the hay. I'll try to do this more. Good night, all. =D

A Pair of Lovers

Sitting in the shade of a sycamore
And holding each other loosely,
A pair of lovers—
Smiling, laughing, talking—
End their day together.

Laying in a patch of mint
And locking their lips gently,
A pair of lovers—
Loving, touching, holding—
Start a life together.

Dipping their feet in a lazy river
And interlocking fingers,
A pair of lovers—
Watching, caring, protecting—
Guide a child together.

Dropping into the damp earth
And longing to touch once more,
A pair of lovers—
Silent, serene, aged—
Stare into eternity together.

—C.R.E.

My Prayer to the Sky

As I stand under the sun’s piercing gaze
Looking out at all of God’s creation
I’m just hoping that the winds and the waves
Will join in my serene jubilation.
I can’t help but to think on times long past,
Times spent in your arms and in your pure eyes.
I thought those times would last and last and last—
Until we passed to the eternal sky.
This is my prayer to the endless blue sky:
Send back that angel and her endless grace,
For I am lost without her by my side—
I need to feel her skin, to touch her face,
To simply see her gentleness once more...
On my knees, I implore some higher pow’r,
“Her time with me has not yet passed away,
I still need her presence from hour to hour!”
But though my Lord is one of sure mercy,
Such a boon, he cannot grant unto me.

—C.R.E.

Truth

So a part of me wonders whether or not anyone reads this silly little thing. Knowledge of either way won't change my mind about writing it, but I still wonder. Comment, maybe? Let me know I'm not just insanely posting to myself?

All of humanity lies in wait—
Breath captured in lungs,
Eyes fixed hungrily upon a point
Which may or may not always
Be in plain view, and counting
The tortoise-paced days—
All for what? What news comes
On the slowly growing vessel
Called Truth? What is to be learned
When it docks and spreads like
A plague through the cities of
Humanity’s soul? What is to be
Gained from pure Truth without
Thought of consequence or
Individual happiness? Who among
Human’s own could be happy
With no secrets to hold greedily to?

—C.R.E.

Children

There is no such thing as
A cynical child.
They view the world
In terms of simplicity—
This is good, and that is evil.
This is right, that is wrong.
Every child is a poet—
A pure soul willing to
Break all things down into
Easier and more evocative terms.
Every child is a hero,
An adventurer—a veritable
Odysseus or Hercules,
Willing and able to take on
Whatever we adults will throw
At them in our misunderstanding,
Cynical, close-minded way.
Oh the lessons that the simple teach!

—C.R.E.

A Poem... For YOU

The sky
Would fall
And break apart
While stars
Turned tail and
Ran to the sea
Where the water
Had emptied out
Before I’d let myself
Look away from
Thee and thy
Entrancing gaze

—C.R.E.

Yet Another

Please, I beg, do not tread on my back
Like so many others have in the past.
Treat me not like an insect underfoot,
But like a lover who knows and cares
For you and your simple grace.
I have tasted the bitterness of life,
And ask simply that you hold back
The tide of control that comes from knowing
That I would do anything and everything for you—
Out of love—and give freely of the sweetness
Of your soul—the selfsame sweetness that
Pours from every orifice of your being.

—C.R.E.

An Ode To Your Eyes

When I am at my lowest,
All seems hopeless,
Or I feel alone,
There is a place
Where I can turn for
Peace, love, and fulfillment.
That striking brown heaven
Surrounded by porcelain skin
And tawny locks,
Will forever open a door
To you, my love—
And therefore is all I
Would ever want or need
To be whole.

—C.R.E.

=D

Weary, downtrodden, broken, but not alone—
I am a traveler and foreign to this land.
I come in peace to learn of the things
Which I know little of—the ways of
Kings, knights, commoners, and serfs.
I come with nothing but what I am—
The words on my tongue and
The thoughts in my mind, but plan to leave
With a glory that will shine forth
From every crevice of my being.
For when I leave, never to return,
I will be running into the arms of my father.

—C.R.E.

Hello There

Hey all! It's been a while since I wrote anything on here other than poetry. Sorry... Just busy/lazy, I guess. For the past two days, I was up in Provo visiting one of my best friends ever: Mr. Trent Nathaniel Taylor. He's such an awesome guy. Girls: Date him. Guys: Get to know him.
I traveled up with Nikki Monnett(my best girl friend)and we all had a ball together. Nikki's such an amazing girl... I have so much respect for her. She's only 16, but you'd never guess it. She's brilliant, beautiful, funny, mature, and just... wonderful, overall. I hope she knows that about herself.
Today I gave a talk in church... I hope it went well. Other than that, I got called in to work today and have decided that I would like a new job. I love Aero, but I hate working on Sunday. More hours would be nice, too.

What do you see when you look in the mirror?
For surely, it’s not what the world sees.
We who know you, see you for who and what you are.
We who love you wish to see more and more of you.
But you hide your face and are ashamed of
The things that you oh-so-frequently do—
The very things we see and love about you.
What do you see when you look in the mirror?

—C.R.E.

Home Now... But Busy. I'll Tell You About It All Tomorrow

Come to me, darling,
For I am waiting with
Open arms and open heart
To accept your beautiful
Eyes into mine.
I can wait, dear one,
For time is nothing
To the love I have for you.
And though, for now,
You see me as naught more
Than a simple friend...
Friends make the best
Companions.

—C.R.E.

Up At Byu... But More On That Tomorrow

You ask what you mean to me
But I know not the words to say--
For what does the Sky tell the Sun?
Indeed, how does a hive thank its Queen
Or a pen its ink and ballpoint?
Without you, there is no use for me.
To me, you see, you are life--
Or, at least, the sweeter things therein.

--C.R.E.

A VERY quick one

We now part ways—
Never again to meet—
I feel a certain sadness
As I watch your sure retreat.
Why wasn’t it hard for you—
The way it was for me?
How can you leave so easily,
Like we were never to be?
I’ll move past this feeling
At some point further on...
But I hope that you mean it
And that you’re truly gone.

—C.R.E.

A Poem

I met a wandering soul—
A man with an air of hunger,
Who gazed at me with ill-intent.
As he pulled his blade and held it to me
I knew what he wanted,
And I gave him all I had.
Curiosity won me over as he
Started on his way. I asked,
“What happened, dear friend,
To bring you to this state?”
He laughed aloud and turned to me,
A dead look in his dull eyes.
“I am the problem with my life,”
He announced sadly,
“And the master of my state.”

—C.R.E.

Something Different

I have fond memories
Of that place—
A graveyard
In a far-off land.
The wind
Would blow there
All the time,
Lightly touching
Upon the lives
That visit and don’t stay.
It seemed to call
To those long past,
Saying,
“Onward, meek souls.
Onward to rest.”
But telling the visitors
To sit awhile and
Enjoy the beauty of the
House—
The home of those
Who would never
Be able
To enjoy it.

—C.R.E.

...Written After Work. It's My Only Excuse.

I humbly kneel before your grace
And ask a simple favor:
Grant to me thy warm embrace
Let me thy presence savor.
I find myself here—a stranger to
This land called Love and Joy,
But there’s not a thing I wouldn’t do
To be thought a man—not a boy.
So again I ask, likely in vain,
To stay with you forever.
I need you to cure life’s sick bane—
Indeed, you are my only endeavor.

—C.R.E.

A Quick Poem

Okay... It's short. And simple. I blame it on being a holiday weekend that I celebrate all too well.

Off to blow something else up. =)

In life, I’ve found,
Love abounds.
It leaps and runs
And overcomes.
It says “I do”,
Then stays true.
It finds, loses,
Bleeds, bruises,
Smiles, and frowns.
Love simply goes around.

—C.R.E.

Another Sonnet

As I stand on the precipice of woe,
Agony, death, and fates much more painful,
I can find no blame in any that I know—
But in myself I see the truth in full...
I am the master of my misery.
It was my devices that sent me here,
My own hands that sewed this dread livery.
Now I stand far from grace’s joyous cheer
With a choice to make for myself: destroy
Sin’s sick hold or suffer hell’s damnation?
A simple choice but harder to employ—
After done, it’s hard to change station.
Yet try I must to change my darker ways
And come fully to heaven’s hopeful light.
No longer do I wish to spend dark days
Wasting away and waiting on the night.
I will come unto my eternal life
And show the world how to rise above strife.

—C.R.E.

Yet Another Poem

I started out on a journey
To find myself a peaceful place.
I needed to gather my thoughts,
To love the world, to be away from it,
And to wonder at the beauty of things.
In all my many searchings,
I never found such a place—
That is, until I met you, my beloved.
I found that peace in you.

—C.R.E.

A Stab at a Shakespearean Sonnet

It has been such a very long time since
Your beautiful smile graced my eyes’ channel.
But, though time may pass, I cannot convince
Myself to forget you through time’s annals.
I found it quite joyous to think back on—
Those times we spent in sweet, humble embrace
Holding solely to each other and none
Else, finding peace in one another’s grace.
But now I see things diff’rently, and cry
Out against thoughts of you and your bold ways.
No matter the method or way I tried...
I was alone at the end of our days.
You were poison, beloved, fast poison
That caused my very soul to shake with ill.
Addictive liquor, to me, and reason
To leave it all behind through pow’r of will.
But now I am longing for just a taste
Of you again— though 'way I’ll surely waste.

—C.R.E.