Poetry flows from the heart, and The Image is so thankful that SAGU lions chose to share their hearts with us. This collection of poetry is filled with different forms and topics, but each one was crafted with care. Please enjoy these poems.
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"Journey of Hair" by Stephanie Van Wyk
"Journey of Hair" by Stephanie Van Wyk
Frizzy folds draped my staccato heart.
Silver scissors grinned widely from behind.
The lady casually questioned if I was sure.
My nod closed the shushing blades.
I was eleven when my hair began its downward journey.
It sheepishly shuffled past my chin, the border guard
Who had been on duty for several years.
It was bouncing on my neck when I put my bag
In the overhead compartment before take off
And looked out the window at my country
For what felt like the last time.
My new school, with disapproving eyes,
Declared the flighty wisps perched on my shoulders
Must be caged in red elastic.
Red to match the scratchy gingham dress.
Red to match the broad stiff hat that
Blocked the relentless African sun.
Red to match the eyes I smothered in my pillow.
On holidays my locks swung free against my back.
Despite the perpetual prison of summer,
It whipped around my head during safaris,
Was moist against my neck in church,
Got snagged in thorny branches,
And was plaited, pet, and pulled by
Enamored village children whose dark tight curls
Travelled up instead of down.
Squashed under a cap to hide the grease,
Is how my hair stepped off the plane seven years later.
“Fried,” was the adjective my aunt used before
Dousing my head in mayonnaise.
Maybe I should have cut it then, But a lot of living grows hair that long.
So I took the tired locks to college
And tried the styles of real Americans,
With little success.
My hair limped against my scalp,
Dangling dismally day-to-day.
I tried to perk it up, but it always wanted down.
I rolled it into messy buns
Put it high in a ponytail
Braided it down my back
Those techniques worked
But they never felt like me.
Finally, eying me from the mirror,
My hair dared me to be bold and start anew.
Together we had done much
And true, it had taken a lot of living.
But the past must eventually be left behind.
New journeys must begin.
So I let the lady cut away the
Tears, sweat, and sun.
And when those 10 costly years
Looked up at me from the floor
We smiled at each other
Each thanking the other
For our release.
"A Paradox God" By Nathan Goodrich
"A Paradox God" By Nathan Goodrich
Vague aesthetic ideas
Wrapped in the majesty of a God
I will never comprehend
Lend themselves to the
Awe-struck stance
Of a prostrate worshiper.
I am but a servant of Mystery,
Spreading the love of a
Paradox God.
"Sleep Your Gentle Soul" By Nathan Goodrich
"Sleep Your Gentle Soul" By Nathan Goodrich
Soft, my dear, and rest.
Sleep your gentle soul
In the comfort of heaven's bed.
Unclench your heart's fist;
Call a ceasefire in your chest.
Be still, my dear, and know.
I see into your heart,
And the storm clouds in your head.
Cast off your inner war;
I'll call a treaty in your chest.
"Waiting for Lunch" by Julie Campbell
"Waiting for Lunch" by Julie Campbell
In spite of the ache in my belly, I wait,
Peering out the screen door, topsy-turvy.
Blossom-scented breezes whirr through the mesh,
And stir an owl-shaped chime on the wall.
Occasionally, a car swooshes by.
Across the room, Grandma rocks in her recliner,
Humming a hymn I’ve heard her sing in church.
Her faded blue canvas slip-ons slap-slap the floor,
Keeping time with the creaking of the rocking chair.
The rhythm makes me happy.
Earlier, she’d placed a pot on the stove,
Set the timer, and untied her soft apron.
“Sit over there, quietly, and we’ll wait a while.”
A wrinkled hand guided me to the couch.
But I’m hungry now.
She rests her eyes, to ease the ache in her head.
Thick fabric dress covers knees,
Above calves and ankles working together
Push-push-pushing one moment to the next.
It’s almost time, I can sense it.
My stomach grumbles loud and
I struggle to stay still.
The vinyl sofa sticks to my legs.
That’s it, I can’t sit anymore.
“Grandma, is lunch ready yet?”
"Tent Poles" by Elijah Hayes
"Tent Poles" by Elijah Hayes
Like tent poles that hold the sky up
Posts that signal the grandeur of God
More lasting than anything living
Surpassing all of our human achieving
You’d think that they’d be permanent
But even time erodes the towering tips
The snowcone tops licked by the frigid wind
An avalanche of rocks like ice cream globs sliding off
Decay of the old order of things
Making way for the coming of the king
Eventually, the sky’s tent will split free
And the mountains’ duty will cease
God’s revealed glory, overturning the planet
Reformed, purified, and replanted
Renewed monuments unmoved as they were supposed to
An everlasting testament to God’s fullness and truth
Heaven with earth, as all things are made new
God dwelling with man–all tents and veils removed
"Ode to Stories" By Elijah Hayes
"Ode to Stories" By Elijah Hayes
A song of a forgotten and toxic love
A poem of a lost yet delicate dove
A book of those fallen to martyrdom
A film of despair and discovering freedom
They come in many different forms
Sometimes an eight-legged octopus
Sometimes a gray-skinned pachyderm
And sometimes an egg-laying platypus
Each one has its place and purpose
Each method duly delivers its service
Exploring the peeling paint of humanity’s surface
Every dip and dent and why we’re imperfect
The disparate styles, creatures, and aims
Really are just shades of the same thing
All made with the intention to relate
Weaving their way into telling our mistake
How the human race has fallen away from grace
Our stories express our journeys toward faith
A search for peace and an outlet for pain
Our stories speak to our situation and place
From poetic kings with endless creativity
To the illiterate child raised on the city streets
The breath of life has been given to all living things
To use our voice and speak through various means
To give a comedic high and entertaining pastime
To boast a bulimic wife finding God and a new life
To hear a violent cry against oppressive lies
To show a renewed hope as depression declines
If you try, you can always find
A little bit of God at every storytime
From epic exploits to simple nursery rhymes
His pen writes in time beneath every inscribed line
"Ode to Harold" By Samantha Gonzales
"Ode to Harold" By Samantha Gonzales
You little wooden box of mine who plays melodies
taking me back to the symphony.
Your turntable keeps my heart spinning
with a song being played just for me.
Music never seems to age
for the record is a gymnast and never stops to flip from one side to the next.
pop click-click pop click-click is the sound of endless tunes.
You pop more vinyl in your system on a daily than a drug addict does so with their pills.
You take my money and transform my bills into receipts
and the collection of sweet harmonies pile on.
Oh, you lifeless object are somehow capable of bringing memories back
that faded so long ago.
Whenever I’m feeling sad or grey, no words of sympathy are needed, just for you to play.
Your cover is never closed, always open
like my mother's door with embracing arms for her children.
Surely flimsy polycarbonate discs of plastic and instant downloads on a mobile device
do not compare to you.
"A Father's Delight" by Jacinda McElhannon
"A Father's Delight" by Jacinda McElhannon
My child, I delight in you.
I lovingly formed you in your mother’s womb.
From the very start, you had my heart.
I take in your sweet face and I am enraptured.
You have captured my heart.
I loved you first,
Yet I crave the joy of your response.
I paint the sky just to see you smile.
I can't wait for you to draw near;
I eagerly anticipate.
My child, I delight in you.
My heart leaps
When your face lights up
For me to greet.
Dance, my heart does,
When you squeal with pure joy,
And every time you lift your eyes and say My name.
Those eyes. That reach!
They melt my heart.
I relish in your affection
As I lavish My perfect love.
How is it that your adoration is simply divine?
Oh, the lengths I would go to hear that laugh!
Exuberant love threatens to explode;
I want to squeeze you with all My might.
Instead I merely draw you in and hold you tight,
For in you I do delight.
I delight in you, and revealing new wonders.
Watching you grow and discover,
Great joy it uncovers.
Time stands still as I simply watch.
Reveling in your wide eyes,
I wonder at your wonder as you explore and ponder.
My heart nearly bursts at every "first,"
Even the smallest accomplishment.
Pride swells as you conquer the smallest step.
I long for you to succeed.
Though I'm saddened by any misstep,
I cheer the loudest at the smallest good deed.
Unwrap My gifts;
They’re yours to take.
I prepared them just for you.
With them, you unwrap My smile.
Your joy and wholeness is my pleasure.
I know the plans and purpose I have for you,
And I smile.
I can’t wait for them to unfold.
Take my hand; let Me be your Guide.
My child, I delight in you.
"Passageway" By Alyssa Sumner
"Passageway" By Alyssa Sumner
Two more minutes
In my second shower of today.
Two more pills
That help the night,
Turn into day.
I don’t want to live this way,
where sadness stays;
I'm trying to find a passageway.
I choose to live today,
But it’s not the same
as it was before.
I try to hide the pain,
To strip away
All my broken doors.
But no matter the valley,
The height of the mountain;
I choose to live today,
Though it’s not the same as it was before.
Through the rain
I’ll choose each day
To mend broken doors.
I don’t want to live this way
Where sadness stays;
I'm trying to find a passageway.
Cause no matter my mountain
Or the depth of my valley
I choose to live today.
Two more minutes
In my second shower of today.
Two more pills
That help the night
Turn into day.
I don’t want to live this way,
But I choose today;
I will find a passageway.
I don’t wanna live this way,
But I choose today.
"A Night Light Sestina" By Rachel Eubanks
"A Night Light Sestina" By Rachel Eubanks
Once
upon a time, there was a suit
of
armor, owned by a knight.
It
loved
this
knight, and swore to keep him safe,
to
make his burdens light,
and
protect him from all suffering.
Suffering
came
easily to the knight, but the suit
was
cared for and polished by him, 'til it shone with light,
and
the knight
kept
it safe
and
treated it with love.
One
day, the knight fell in love
with
a beautiful star, and the suit sensed his suffering.
It
could not keep him safe,
so
the suit
encased
the knight
with
light.
The
light
of
the suit's love
for
the knight
grew
as the knight's suffering
grew,
and the suit
glowed
brighter, trying to keep him safe.
Eventually,
to keep the lands safe,
a
wizard cast this great light
into
the sky, suiting the knight
well,
as he found himself closer to his love.
Though
his suffering
was
lessened, the knight's
heart
still yearned for the night
star,
upon which he had cast his heart. Safe
from
causing suffering,
the
suit gave out as bright a light
as
it could, to show the knight he was loved.
The
star came to visit the knight and his suit,
which
suited the knight
until
the star came close enough to burn. The suit's love kept him safe,
casting
the star away, and its light did not cause him suffering.
"Free" By Rachel Eubanks
"Free" By Rachel Eubanks
Poetry
is
dreams incarnate.
Imagination
gone wild.
Anything
you want it to be it can be,
whether
free flowing
thoughts
or
Shakespearean prose, it’s not
too
hard to see, poetry can be what you want it to be.
It
could be about the gurgle of sweet-smelling oils
or
the cold coffee in the bottom of my mug.
It
could be about your favorite book, your favorite food, your favorite anything,
poetry
is here to please.
All
you have to do is be the guest, put your own service to the test.
Just
make sure it’s original, don’t plagiarize like I just did.
That
may have been a comma splice.
But
it doesn’t matter, because this is a poem, the Neverland of writing, or Never Land, whichever you prefer.
Potayto,
potahto.
Boil
it, mash it, stick it in a stew,
poetry
means its own thing to you
and
to me.
Look
at that, I’m rhyming now.
Nope.
It stopped. No more rhyming.
I’m
drifting.
Which
I guess means this is
The End
Your
turn?
"Hard Work" By Donald Jordy
"Hard Work" By Donald Jordy
I
look down
at all my
textbooks and wonder if it
was worth all the
time and energy that it took.
I do believe that it was
worth all the tears, stress, and heartache.
I will look back and thank myself for
never giving up on my dreams.
"Writing is My Portal" By Donald Jordy
"Writing is My Portal" By Donald Jordy
Writing is my portal.
It gives me an escape.
Writing is my portal.
It allows me to take shape.
Writing is my portal.
It does not leave me with a scrape.
Writing is my portal.
It always allows me to escape.
"The Merry-Go-Round" By Frankie Panzanella
"The Merry-Go-Round" By Frankie Panzanella
I feel like I’m stuck on a merry-go-round.
For every step forward there’s two steps back till I’m all spun around and I’m right back where I started.
There’s no moving onwards or even turning around. I’m just spun round and round.
There’s no getting off because it won’t stop. No time to breathe or even think.
I feel like I’m stuck on a merry-go-round.
"Temptation" By Justine Howe
"Temptation" By Justine Howe
The pain of desolation:
nary a soul in any direction.
Weeds, dirt, and sun
are my only companions.
Like an earthquake
my stomach cries out;
forty days without food
tempts to sour my mood.
The glue of dryness makes
my tongue stick to my mouth,
warring against my lips, which
want to declare Your praise.
The serpent slides alongside
and whispers suggestions of care,
like a friend who promises to help
but only desires to arouse my pride.
“Man does not live on bread alone,
but by every word that comes from the Lord,”
my voice rasps out, strengthened by
my identity - God in human form.
“Hah! You think you're all that, especially in that body!?”
the tempter scoffs. “Every pathetic human on this planet
belongs to me alone. You want them? Worship me!”
And so his true nature rears its ten ugly heads.
“Worship the Lord, and serve Him only”
is my whispered reply. The very words I
passed on to my own people years ago
are my sword against this wayward angel.
Satan snorts. “You think the Lord cares about you?
Show it! Throw yourself from the temple roof!
You said it yourself, after all – he'll send his angels
to keep you safe, down to your own feet!”
My gaze settles on the ancient dragon,
my eyes expressing both pity and anger,
and I growl past a parched tongue,
“You shall not put the Lord to the test!”
As if having the last word was victory,
the accuser leaves with a parting shot:
“We'll see how committed you are
to these foolish flesh-bags...”
Alone, and yet no longer,
as servants climb down
the steps that Jacob saw,
and so I am restored.
"Identity" By Esther Green
"Identity" By Esther Green
Ugly
Fat
Stupid
Worthless
Broken
Hated
Hopeless
I
Am
Am
I
Hopeful
Loved
Mended
Priceless
Clever
Perfect
Beautiful
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