Poetry and Short Stories

Do good deeds get us into heaven? God certainly smiles down on us when we do something wonderful, but He also smiles down on us when we make mistakes. He is a forgiving God who loves us no matter what. Does this mean we should embrace poor behavior and choices, knowing that God will love us unconditionally? I can only think of my own parents and how, throughout my entire life, I have never wanted to disappoint them. My own children cherish what their dad and I think. They seek our approval. I believe this is similar to the way we must consider our relationship with God. He is the Father who we want to please, and like our own children who we love through both good and bad choices, so too the Father loves us through our successes and failures. The poem below, “Human Me” is my attempt at showing how God the Father is always with us, loving us through every choice; while He is pleased with our good deeds, He loves us no less when we make mistakes.

 

Human Me

 

Could it be my Master’s clothes

come disguised as poor man’s woes?

If ignored my Lord does weep,

but if adored

my soul He keeps?

The answer: Surely, no.

I, the sinner, often seeking,

receive pardon for my sins

gaining entry through the gates

despite ego and mistakes.

When I do something well

He, instead of keeping track,

says, “Well done—though good or bad

I will never turn my back.”

He says He’s ever watchful

knowing before my every choice

what I will think and say and do,

if I will cause Him pain or joy.

No matter error or good deed,

a pure heart is what will please

my God who promises to keep

loving oh so human me.

 

Missi Magalis

October 2017

 

You, Lord

At first I didn’t miss You.

I simply closed and locked the door.

Each time You rang the bell,

it was easy to ignore.

I was filled with anger,

and I had a lot to do.

I could not forgive

the hurt I blamed on You.

I walked alone unbroken

till the burden weighed me down.

That’s when I knelt and prayed,

asked You to lift me off the ground.

I opened up my Bible,

read that You are close to me.

I knew then You’d kept silent

waiting patiently to see

if I’d unlock the door, and

allow in Your mercy.

When I finally surrendered,

You gathered up my tears,

flung them at the sun,

and took away my fear.

I smiled up at You, Lord,

and You smiled down at me,

said, “Now, go and show the world

the great work I’ve done in thee.”

Missi Magalis

18 September 2017

 

Running is . . .

relationship-

It is

strength, courage,

power.

It is forgiveness . . .

a letting go-

Running is intelligent.

It is health,

life,

friend and foe.

Running is

the means by which

fear and worry

exit the soul-

Running is a break from sad,

mad, hurt, despair-

It is healing,

hope, faith, peace,

happiness.

Running is love.

Missi Magalis
Written 7/6/13 9:02 pm

 

 

 

Time

Touch Time

pricks the skin

bleeds the soul

second by second–

 

Feel Fine

at nine

tired by ten

up in the morning

begin again–

 

Leave Time Behind–

peace from the sun

joy in the wind

love from minuteless

clouds–

 

No Seconds No Hours

no hearts devoured

good eve to the sun

goodnight to the moon–

no time means

we’ve won.

Missi Magalis 1/31/13

 

Writer’s Haiku

 

Why words spill on page

Cleanse the spirit, renew soul

Must find my pencil.

 

Missi Magalis

March 8, 2013

 

My 10,000 Hours

The story is as follows:

 

In front of the typewriter

ribbon busted broken,

I was five years old

invisible stories I was writin.

 

Fast forward ten years

broken heart sheddin tears

writin poetry from my pain

all those words soothe like rain-

washin away all the sin-

back in the game, do it again.

 

Vicious circle till

I settled down-

my best friend, he’s

still with me now-

three kids, degree

good payin job

all is well,

still, I feel robbed.

 

Cause the words

rattle in my brain-

I reached out,

picked up the pen again-

scribbled lines onto the page-

felt meaning seepin through my veins.

 

Wrote a few stories,

jotted down poems,

character sketches,

first book unknown-

second one too,

on and on-

but the dream demands.

My soul is torn.

 

Keep on or give up?

I must persist-

reach for what

I know exists.

 

Another book-

new idea, feels right-

Best seller, maybe?

I must be crazy,

no agent in sight.

Ignored the shame-

started book two last night.

 

Don’t know why or how

can’t stop now-

my blood pumps words,

I make the vow.

No matter how long-

10,000 hours or more,

I’ll never stop knockin

on my dream’s door.

 

I love my husband

I love my kids,

my life is blessed-

I have no regrets-

but I must prove who I am,

professionally make a stand-

do

what I’ve been called to do-

write these words

on paper

for me and you.

 

Missi Magalis

2/10/13

8:45 pm

 

Let us play

I pick up my guitar,

He his–

Fingers find

melody–

foot tapping foreplay.

Eye contact…

nod of assent.

Then…

lost in

Music.

Song’sover

one-night-stand

Lovers of music.

Practice would

only have served

to ruin

the intimacy of

our short-lived

Affair.

 

Missi Magalis

September 12, 2011

 

 

Seek Not Approval

I want to know…

if cornered, cracked,

B

r o

K

en

I will survive.

I want to learn…

If I fail,

there really

is no failure

and I will

understand this

concept and celebrate

this wisdom.

I want to believe…

in myself and seek

NOT the approval of others

but the

Acceptance

of Self.

I want to share…

The whole of myself

unfettered, untamed,

with no apologies

for the who of my

Spirit…

In my own time,

In my own way,

In front of an

audience of my

choosing–

Maybe one million

or my own reflection

In a

M

I

R

R

O

R

I want to share the energy

of my being–

Unashamed

Unafraid

With no Regrets.

Missi Magalis

September 6, 2011

 

 

Trickle Tear drop, dear–
Wonder
Woman crystal clear
hourglass~
Trickle Time…
Tick Tock
sand sifts, life’s clock–
Woman/Wonder
dear drop dead
Time Sifts–
drips,
Silent tearS.

Missi Magalis
January 16, 2012

 

’A little’ grammar lesson…
Apostrophe’s
tricky mister’s
placed here’ and
There’
irritating’ possessors–
Even when’
possess they not’,
those’ idiot suckers
sneak in’ and dot
the page’–leave
Embarrassing’ errors.
Poor writers find’
them’ holy terrors!

Missi Magalis

February 15, 2012

 

Cabin in the Woods

Quiet please.
Our stay is peace.
We watch with ease
the face of each.
No words need said.
The silence speaks
our love out loud.
A touch, a kiss
A soft caress–
Our love moves mountains
thaws brilliant ice fountains–
Builds bridges, connections
unbreakable affections.
Forever together.
Cabin in the woods.

Missi Magalis
February 14, 2012

 

Flawless Love

My feet are forever in a state of crusty disrepair,
but he loves me.
I have these purple veiny webs in the bend of my knee and just inside my left thigh,
but he loves me.
Faded stretch marks at my hips from carrying our three daughters are invisible to him because
He loves me.
The scars on my stomach, one slightly askew from the others–reminders of the beautiful children we share…
He loves me.
That extra three to five pounds I’m always trying to lose…he doesn’t see it!
He loves me.
I have this annoying habit of peeling the skin from around my nails,
but he still loves me.
My voice is loud, shrill, high-pitched–at times rather piercing,
yet he loves me.
I have this little chip in my front tooth–
He loves me!
I lose my glasses and my keys every single day,
and, you guessed it,
He loves me!
I never ever put the lid on the toothpaste,
but he loves me.
I can be moody as hell,
but he still loves me.
All these flaws I see, you see, he doesn’t see because
He loves me!

Missi Magalis
February 11, 2012

 

Friday Evening
Two men talk over
truck bed
Sigh
Leave workweek
Behind
Saturday’s
half-day
Laidback
Church is
Fish-on-Sunday
Monday Morning
Dream…
Friday Evening

Missi Magalis

February 10, 2012

 

Show Me

I know it isn’t flattering
to ask too many questions,
make demands or assumptions,
knock on wood or lose my temper,
but I’m lost…
All I do is wonder,
is my life just a blunder?
mixed up mess to ponder?

Not supposed to ask when–
to demand is a sin,
so I’ll pray once again,

Please God show me…

Show me the path for my feet,
give me the words I’m to speak,
take my hand and lead me
to my true destiny.
Show me please.

My patience are thin.
I must thicken my skin.
Take each day as it comes,
find the blessings within.
I don’t know when or if
my dreams will come true.
I’m told to be thankful
if they don’t or they do.

God’s plan is best
though what it is I don’t know.
Just have this feeling  inside…
On faith do I ride.

Please God show me…

Show me the path for my feet,
give me the words I’m to speak,
take my hand and lead me
to my true destiny.
Show me please.

I seek stars that are mine,
cry out for a sign–
I can’t make it alone.
Desire aches in my bones.

I tuck my chin to my chest,
give my voice a rest,
that’s when I hear clear as day
words I’d been keeping at bay.

“Here’s the path for your feet.
Each step you take is with Me.
The words that you speak,
I formed them last week.
Your pulse beating its demand
is my encouraging hand.
Your destiny is clear.
It’s in your heart, soul, and tears.

Your faith is worthwhile,
the end result is you, Child,
with every dream met and more
wings spread wide, yes, you’ll soar.
To new heights where you’ll see
you’ve been given the chance
to show Me…”

Missi Magalis
December 2011

 

Generations

My mother is called Lost–
She named me Broken.
She was left for dead,
beaten and used,
the responsibility of me
left in her womb.
She died on a cold winter night
snow circling, swirling,
catching on her lashes.
Her final words
were especially for me.
“Broken.
This world is
Broken.”
I sat with her
in that alley
and swore I would
make a difference.
My chapped lips cracked, bled
as I vowed,
“I will make you proud.”
*
My mother’s name is Broken.
I am called Whole.
She broke the cycle.
She was
beaten–abused.
But she left.
Walked out,  head held high
shoulders squared
against the bitterness
of life.
She escaped her prison,
left with nothing but
the responsibility of
Me
in her womb.
“I’m doin you a favor,”
she whispered as she
left Me on the doorstep.
She’d watched the family
all these months.
I know because my
mother wouldn’t leave
Me just anywhere.
I’m sure she loved Me,
but I can’t help
after all these years of a
good life…
I can’t help
Wondering.
I whisper to the child
growing in
my wife’s womb,
“You are my responsibility.
I will make an even better life
for you. You will never have to ask the
yearning, burning question
left unanswered in my soul.
You’ll never feel this
Hole
inside your heart.
We will call you Freedom.”
*
My father answers to Whole.
When I hear him call
Freedom,
I respond.
My mother left
when I was two.
My father hunched
his shoulders
against the pain–
erected an impenetrable
Wall
that I could not climb.
I am educated,
independent.
What I desire
I receive.
No question.
I have money, success,
Homecarclothesfood.
I have every thing.
When my father lay dying,
the cancer thickening
so that his voice
sputtered and choked,
He said,
“I’m  proud of you.”
But he never said the words
I knew he meant instead.
The words he could not
bring himself to speak.
*
My mother is
Freedom.
I Am
Love.
Every day
she calls my name,
the lilt of her voice
a treasure.
We walk
hand in hand
best friends
waiting for my father’s
return…
He is
Lost
in a land that is
Broken,
yet he believes–
He picks up the pieces,
helps others become
Whole.
My father is
far away,
fighting for our
Freedom
so that we may
Love
without worry.
When he returns,
he’ll meet
the responsibility
that was growing
in my mother’s
womb when he
was called to duty.
When he returns,
he’ll meet
Peace.

Missi Magalis
December 20, 2011

 

Fall Leaves
on
Windy Day

Playing Chase
In a Race.

Somersaults.
Merry-Go-Round

upsıpǝ poʍu.

Swirling through Air
Birds in  Flight!

Landing Planes
taking aim Airstrip called Fame.

Missi Magalis
November 11, 2011

 

Prayer

Amen.
the End.
isn’t Prayer
constant?

Missi Magalis
October 20, 2011

 

My Dearest

I want a tonight that lasts forever,
a tomorrow that never ends,
all of which are minutes spent
with
you.

Missi Magalis

September 8, 2011

 

What is a Limerick?

A limerick is a five line humorous poem that rhymes a, a, b, b, a.  If you are unfamiliar with rhyme scheme, see the definition that follows my example of a limerick.

There was a man named Ted, (a)

who liked to stay in bed. (a)

When I asked him why, (b)

he spit in my eye (b)

and said, “I think I have rocks in my head!” (a)

MdM

This is my very own original work!  I wrote it in eighth grade English class (I’ll be forty in September. :))

Now, for rhyme scheme

Take a look at the letters I’ve put in parentheses at the end of each line of poetry.  Each letter refers to the last word of the line.  Ted is the last word in line one.  Since Ted is the first last word of a line, he gets the first letter of the alphabet (a).  The last word in line two is bed.  Since bed rhymes with Ted, it gets the same letter as Ted (a).  The last word in line three is why.  It doesn’t rhyme with Ted and bed, so it gets the next letter in the alphabet (b)Eye is the last word in line fourEye rhymes with why, so it’s getting a (b) as well.  Finally, head is the last word in line five.  It doesn’t rhyme with eye or why, but it does rhyme with Ted and bed, so it receives an (a).

What if you have a  poem that happens to be fifty-six lines and you use up all the letters in the alphabet?  Go to double letters (aa, bb, cc, and so on).

Missi Magalis

Posted April 29, 2013

 

What is a Couplet?

A couplet is two consecutive lines of poetry that rhyme.

The woman who lived in the downtrodden house,  (a)

spent every day chasing a mouse.  (a)

One line right after the other and they rhyme–Couplet

 

If an entire poem consists of every two lines rhyming, it is a poem of rhyming couplets.

A woman who lived in a one room house, (a)

spent every day chasing a mouse. (a)

The mouse jumped and ran (b)

when the woman yelled, “Scram!” (b)

but returned every day (c)

for a warm place to stay. (c)

The woman gave up (d)

named the mouse Pup. (d)

Made him a bed in the rafters– (e)
Both lived happily ever after. (e)

MdM

The rhyme scheme (a, a, b, b, c, c, d, d, e, e) shows the poem is constructed of rhyming couplets.

Missi Magalis

Posted May 1, 2013

Evil Dentist

Today, I have an appointment with the devil, I mean, the dentist.  I have to have my teeth cleaned and I’m a wreck.  My insides are quivering, my nerves are ending, and my teeth would rather jump out of my head into the land of falseys than be picked, poked, and prodded by the hygientist and dentist.

It is obvious, I hate when this visit reminder appears on my calender.  That being said, both my hygientist and dentist are wonderful.  They are gentle and caring, remember my name and my hobbies, and carry on conversation while they work (this is kind of awkward because when they ask questions I always wonder if they understand how difficult it is for me to attempt an answer with a mouth full of their equipment).

I’m not sure where or when I got this loathing, and I have to say, I feel kinda bad about it.  I know I’m not the only one who feels this way, and I worry for the tooth doctors of the world.  How awful it must be to know you are detested by those coming to visit you on any given day.  Maybe the money makes it worth their while, or maybe the patients are really good at being super friendly on the outside while on the inside they are wishing there was some magical on-line solution to dental health (everything else can be purchased online–why not a teeth cleaning kit? Hmmm…)

I don’t know about you, but I’m always extra friendly when it’s all over.  See, my body acts as my enemy–the dentist and her assistant know I’m fearful because my limbs start shaking as soon as I lay back in the chair.  They are constantly telling me to relax.  I feel bad that I can’t, so when the appointment is finished I try really hard to be super nice (I do like them.  The last thing I want to do is leave a bad taste in their mouth! Ha!  I laugh at my own pun here.)

The niceness does, however, fade a bit if the dentist gives me the dreaded news, “You have work that needs to be done.  We’ll need to set up an appointment for a filling.” This is when I grow horns and a tail, the pitchfork appears in my hand as if by magic, and I chase her down the hall and out of her office, ridding the land of the evil dentist forever and ever.

Okay, okay, this part is my little fantasy.  In reality, I smile, take my folder and my flouride painted teeth to the front window and pay money for the torment I’ve suffered.  Then, silly me  makes another appointment for the filling the doctor said I needed.  I do this knowing full well that this appointment will be even worse (There’s numbing involved for goodness sake!)  What am I thinking?

Oh well!  Better to suffer a little to keep the pearly whites safely attached to the gums…I guess?  This I say as I contemplate canceling.  But then there’s that fee for cancellations made within twenty-four hours of the appointment.

This vicious cycle will occur again in six months (if I don’t have any trouble in the cavern from which I speak)!  For today, I suppose I’ll have to meet my opponent with a smile that says, “Of course, I’d love for you to use your wretched instruments to wreak havoc on my nerves as you wrench and scrape at my teeth, the only ones I’ve got, the ones it feels you are ripping from my head as you yank and poke!”

Somehow I thought writing about this would be helpful–seems it’s just worked me up even more.  Oh no!  Off I go…

Missi Magalis

October 6, 2011

 

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