In Your Embrace

The following was originally posted on Renderosity.com on September 19, 2005:

In Your Embrace

Warm hands.

Soft skin.

Tender heart.

I lose myself

(and find myself)

deep in your embrace.

You’ve captured

my thoughts,

and made them

your own.

So much alike,

in love and ideas.

A mirror image

that’s a window to the soul.

If I be asleep,

and you just a dream,

smother my life,

that the dream might not end.

Be this the guidance

of simple fantasy,

or the loving hand

of the Lord above,

I pursue you with vigor.

To surrender my heart,

place them as one.

So one may nourish

the other

(So the other may nourish

the one).

That the two will blossom

on a single stem.

Let me hold you in my arms,

to feel the beat of your heart.

For mine grows faster;

enquickened with love.

When you look into my eyes,

press your lips softly to mine,

and hold me deep

in your embrace.

J.P. Wiegand

© Emittravel 1989

The words you have just read describe the woman I'm about to spend the rest of my life with. She is truly an answer to my prayers. For years now, I have prayed, "Lord, prepare me for my mate, as you prepare her for me." I've (jokingly) thought that she MUST need a lot of work - it was taking so long! (The truth of the matter? It was I who needed the work.) At our 20 year reunion, Lisa and I connected. We knew OF each other in high school, but didn't KNOW each other. Since our reunion, we have definitely gotten to each know one another. So close we have become, that on Friday, September 16th, I proposed marriage - and she (I'm humbled to say) accepted my proposal and has agreed to honor me as my wife.

This one is for you, my love! I give you my forever - this day and always. With all of my heart I am yours. You are the sweetest poem ever written. I am in awe of you. I love you! -j.p.

© Emittravel 2017

Thanksgiving Day

This day can be considered a dress rehearsal for New Year's Eve, when we look at the year that has passed, and what we want to change in the coming. And yet, unlike the day of streamers and noise makers, with its false hopes of self bootstrap lifting, THIS day is a focus of what we are thankful for, and in light of the joys and in spite of the hardships, we still give thanks.

Below is a poem I wrote a few years ago in preparation of that year's curtain call. May the sentiments expressed grace your own heart, as you pause and give thanks. If you believe in God, by whatever name you know Him/Her by, give thanks. If you don't, than turn to those close to you - or reach out to those not so close - and give thanks. And maybe a little grace. -j.p. © Emittravel 2015

Tidings glad
In midst of sorrows
Comfort given
When all seems lost

Looking forward
Glancing backwards
Bending knee
Before the cross

Seeking mercy
Deserving nothing
Arms outstretched
Towards One who's true

Giving thanks
Deep in hardship
A cry for grace
It comes from You

Joy unspoken
Shouts of praise
Tears of cleansing
Purpose to pray

Peace in remembrance
Hope for the future
A life in renewal
Each Thanksgiving Day

J.P. Wiegand

© Emittravel 2012

Just a Blink of an Eye

A single breath in passing

A moment and it's gone

A thought grasped but slipping

The pain it feels so wrong

We focus on the moment

Each life to us we face

Soon buried in the rubble

Forever be the chase

To hang on one more second

To make each minute count

Find peace in single hour

Last day for each surmount

What drives the inside hunger

The pangs for just one more

To glean the effervescence

Of lives beyond three score

To find the hope and beauty

To cling to love and mate

To live beyond the total

Escape the claws of fate

If I said "goodbye" now

Left the sand and rust

Would tomorrow forget me

In beams of light like dust

I reach for words of meaning

To share with what I've found

But through my tears I'm humbled

My voice has lost its sound

For each life is but passing

Each friendship one day cease

No value found in fighting

In acceptance is found peace

J.P. Wiegand

© Emittravel 2015

I was reading a blog that talked of how fleeting our lives actually are; in the grand scheme of the universe. There was a deep ache that formed in me and I needed to express it.

Have you ever noticed that you exist? Can you remember a time when you didn't? No wonder we can't imagine not existing in the future. We hunger for life after death - or more appropriately, never-ceasing life. We exercise, Botox, pray, and smear things on ourselves, all in order to keep the Not-So-Pleasant Reaper from knocking on our doors.

One who lives a philosophy that all there is is the now of life, is living such a life in misery - in my humble but accurate opinion. -j.p.

© Emittravel 2015

Visions Through Satan's Eyes

As I feel the poison
flowing through my veins,
no tears do I shed.
I have taken the love given me
And have transformed it
into some precarious form
of disillusionment.
I have warped the minds of innocence
and have distorted it
to suit my satisfaction.
I hold the hand
of one in need,
and so carelessly crush it,
until the bones snap
like dead branches.

 

Ah, death.
Tis a sweet gift
I give unto thee
who is so full
of joy.
Pain is just an emotion
which deserves its equal time
with love.
I live by a sadistic law:
Agony be it
for those
who think kindly.

 

As my mind dissipates
with the sweet sickness
that is death,
I laugh
at man’s feeble attempts
to live
by love.
I am not the disease,
just a minor element.
Man shall continue
when I am gone.
Unknowingly,
he shall make my work
that of a saint.
Total devastation
shall be achieved
by man’s love.
My only wish
is that I may live to see it.
Ah,
what a performance it shall be.
One that will require
no encore.

J.P. Wiegand
© Emittravel 1985

A touch of the macabre; written appropriately at midnight; should be read sitting down with a strong cup of coffee.

(Special thanks goes to BladeWolf for use of ~Sinilius~. The image was originally posted on www.renderosity.com. I received permission from BladeWolf to use it back in 1985 when I posted the poem there. Unfortunately, I was unable to locate him on the site to link to him here.)

"On this home by Horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!
- Quothe the Raven 'Nevermore'." - E.A. Poe
(special thanks to the "master")

© Emittravel 2015

No Costume Required

(The below was written and posted to a site long before I started this blog. I am (re)posting it here for your enjoyment. It includes the original description notes at the end. -j.p.)

You said the words:
"Good bye"
and my heart broke.
I could almost hear it shatter.

 

No last kiss.
No last embrace.
I miss your taste;
the feel of you in my arms.
The softness of your hair against my cheek.

 

I ache for you.
Tears have yet to dry.
I long to go into hiding;
run from everyone.
I want to be alone;
yet being without you makes me alone in a crowd.

 

So,
I am disguising myself.
You wouldn't recognize me.
If we meet at a party you would pass me by.
I am going as a "broken heart".
No costume required.

 

J.P. Wiegand

© Emittravel 2003

Originally this started as a concept for a greeting card; sort of an "I Miss You / Halloween" type. The card would have had a picture of a person with a large heart (like those "The world is coming to an end" signs) on the front with the line: "This Halloween I'm going as a broken heart"; on the inside would simply be the words: "No costume required."

The person? Same lady as "Wrapped in Unconditional Love". In this case,
time does NOT heal all wounds. -j.p.

© Emittravel 2014

Wrapped in Unconditional Love

This was the most painful poem I've ever written. Between each phrase I paced the floor and sobbed - not wept; sobbed. It seemed to take forever to express the ache.

It took four months for me to sit and write after that. I just didn't have the courage to put myself through it again.

-j.p.

© Emittravel 2014

Wrapped in Unconditional Love

 

Love

Overwhelming

All consuming

Beyond anything ever known before

Every thought

Every passion

Every breath

Focused on one

One

Beautiful

All encompassing

Beyond anyone ever known before

Every word

Every motion

Every breath

The focus of my existence

Unattainable

I cry out with love

But you are gone

I seek you

I search for you

But you are not there

You stand before me

But you are far away

You long for another

Shutting me out

My heart reaches forth

Grasping the air

Wanting nothing but you

You smile and turn away

Looking for the love

Of one who has shut YOU out

Does your heart cry for him?

Like mine does for you?

Do you know the pain?

Wrapped in unconditional love?

To hold you again

To proclaim my love for you

As I fall into those eyes once more

Time

Moving

All knowing

Beyond the ability to control

Every desire

Every prayer

Every moment

Waiting just for you

J.P. Wiegand

© Emittravel 2003

The Light of the Moon

I’m writing you this

in the light of the moon,

under the stars

and dark of night.

Alone on the sea,

With nothing but the waves

striking my vessel.

The breeze is warm;

that which gently moves my hair.

And the sound of the earth

fills my soul

with solitude.

There is nothing to bother,

nothing to hamper,

the peace of night

on the ocean.

Yet,

in the midst

of all this beauty,

a cloud covers

the light of the moon,

and darkness fills the night.

My vision fades to that

which can be seen

by the sparseness of stars,

that still peer

through the shadow.

And with the darkness

that encompasses all,

comes the knowledge of the breeze,

in its never-ending movement,

that shall remove the cloud

from its path,

and once again fill the void

with that

of the light of the moon.

Oh how much does this,

this vision of mine eyes,

reflect an overpowering likeness,

of that

which envelopes our love.

I sit here

in the light of your love,

under the beauty

of God’s divine power.

Alone with myself,

with nothing but the thoughts of you

striking (oh so gently) my heart.

The time is slow,

that which gently moves our lives,

and the sound of my heart

fills my soul

with loneliness.

There is nothing to disturb,

nothing to hinder,

the peace of love

in my heart.

Yet,

in the midst

of all this love,

a cloud covers

the joy in my heart,

and despair fills my soul.

My hope fades to that

which can be hoped

with what love

that could survive,

through this cloud

which is separation.

And with the loneliness

that envelopes my being,

comes the knowledge of time,

in its never-ending movement,

that shall bring us together,

and once again fill the void

with that

of the light of the moon.

J.P. Wiegand

© Emittravel 1985

This one is kind of long, but it was written in two stages. The first portion was written while sitting on the deck, off the port side, of the USS Elrod (FFG-55) - you'll notice in the picture the "motor-whale boat" in the upper left portion of the shot. This part was actually written EXACTLY the way it took place. I went back in to finish the second portion due to lack of light.

The photo was taken back in 1986 while our ship was in the Caribbean. The USS Elrod has recently finished her last deployment and will be decommissioned. -j.p.

© Emittravel 2014

Christmas Morn

A gift to my readers, and especially to my biggest fan - my darling wife Lisa. Merry Christmas!

Early morning whispers of snow touched trees
Gentle breezes make soft blankets dance
Ghosts in sunlight twirling through branches
The quiet lingering

Inside you lay sleeping still floating in dream
Curled under covers of flannel and fleece
Gone is the hurried preparedness brings
The silence enveloping

The moment too perfect to shatter with speech
The rays through the window gracing your cheek
Moving ever closer the embrace to extend
The stillness breathing

Christmas morn


J.P. Wiegand
© Emittravel 2013

Through These Doors

An exit?

Or an entrance?

The end?

Or the beginning?

Perspective determines attitude.

Or is it the other way around?

Where are you going?

Have you given it thought?

Or are you walking through these doors

into the hands of chance?

The footsteps of the righteous

are ordained of the Lord.

 

As you pass through these doors,

they will close behind you;

forever separating these portions of your life.

Memories that fade in time.

Good.

Bad.

Gone.

Your future lays before you.

Your past behind you.

Through these doors.

J.P. Wiegand

©Emittravel 2000

Written initially in a blank graduation card with a picture of a set of doors on the card’s face. Posting this today in honor of my niece's graduation from high school. -j.p.

©Emittravel 2013

The Wall

For me, one of the difficult aspects of writing a blog is finishing what was started. Creative writing has been my shtick for a good many years. I've posted a few poems to this blog to share some of that with you. When I've written poetry, I find that I have to complete the poem in one session. I can't start it and come back to it later. The mood has changed. The muse has taken me in a different direction.

Writing a blog seems to have the same process for me. I've got a "stack" of blog topics in the queue. I've got some as titles only. Others have a list of concepts to hopefully jog my memory. And others have been started but, due to extenuating circumstances, have been left to finish later. This means the queue is getting bigger - the fear of running out of blog topics is hardly an issue.

So now I'm trying to capture the mood, the frame of mind, the energy, of a particular topic. And it is difficult. It has a great start, but is dying on the vine. And I want to finish it. I really do. The working title is "Cliché Christianity", and I stopped writing with a single reminder note: "God Moments". What the heck does THAT mean? What was the approximately three pounds of computer above my shoulders wanting to share? How do I recapture that?

What about you? I'd like to think that I'm not alone here. For those of you writing the "Great American Novel" - how do you write over a period of YEARS? And more importantly, what do you do to get that muse?

© Emittravel 2012

As Hope Burns

Prior to my meeting, falling in love, and marrying my lovely wife Lisa, I was a mess. I was still trying to get over someone and was refusing to allow myself to get close to any other woman. This poem came out during a non-numb moment - if you know what I mean. -j.p.

The seasons have come and gone

Time drifts slowly past

People come and go

Impacting in ways small and great

But some memories remain

Peaceful yet haunting

I told you once

(Seems so long ago)

That there will be others in my life

Mere shadows compared to you

Words of prophecy

Falling into fruition

Why can’t I forget you

Stop caring each and every day

Wondering where you are

Missing you so much

Recounting the moments

Immersed in my failures

Where do these tears come from

How can they continue to fall

Haven’t I cried enough

Shouldn’t my heart be dry

And yet I wonder

How many tears have you shed

Do I ever touch your thoughts

Speak to you in the quiet

Alone in your bed

Can you feel my arms around you

Does my name cross your lips

In the sorrow of prayer

I wait for you

After all this time

I reach out

Try to touch you in my musings

And love you

As hope burns

J.P. Wiegand
© Emittravel 2004

No Christmas In My Stocking

The following is the second of two Christmas poems I wrote when in the Navy. See here for the first. 

No Christmas In My Stocking

As I look out

and see the blue sky,

with its hot desert sun,

the thought of Christmas

is difficult to envision.

Outside the world

is water and sand.

For the water is the sea

and the sand is the far lands

that exist beyond the horizon.

Snow drifts are memories only.

Scenes of childhood

to reminisce the time away.

Snowball fights and ice skates,

homemade igloos and sleds,

and hot cocoa to warm

when the evening sets too soon.

As Christmas day approaches,

and even as it pass,

my prayers, dreams, and memories,

send my love homeward.

Though may gift not I unwrap,

nor holiday meal I share,

I give to you that love,

in the hopes that when home I do come,

it too will be Christmas day.

J.P. Wiegand

©Emittravel 1987



©Emittravel 2011


 

God in a Box

I've received quite a few comments concerning the talk I gave at the last Faith Fellowship Church's Men's Breakfast this month (see "I Grasp It, But It Keeps Slippin' Outta My Hands!"). One of the points was that we, as finite beings, have a heck of a time trying to grasp God's "infinite". Below is a poem I wrote several years ago that touches on our arrogance to assume that we know all about God, and have no need to learn and grow. And you know what happens when you break down "assume" . . . 

God don't do that.

Not like that.

Not my God.

That's not Him.

I've figured Him out.

I know how He moves.

Just like this.

Not like that.

Don't shake me.

You'll break me.

Don't flip my ship.

Cease the wind.

Calm the waves.

I believe what I believe.

And that don't fit.

Picking and choosing.

A little this.

A little that.

God in a box.

He just fits nice.

Open it when I want to.

Close the lid when I'm done.

Go ahead.

Capture the wind.

Keep it in your box.

Try it.

Tell the Potter - you clay.

Tell the Painter - you canvas.

Go ahead.

Tell Him.

Lift the lid.

Look inside that box.

Religion...Empty...Formulas...Rules.

Where do you store Him who encompasses the heavens?

Your vision of God is as only big as the box you place Him in.

Out of the box.

Into your heart.

J.P. Wiegand

©Emittravel 1997

One More Voice in the Cacophony

In memory of September 11, 2001. -j.p.

Overwhelmed by history

The tragedy that shook us

The memories that flood us

The broken hearts yet to heal

Songs have been written

Adding music to the ache

Pulling emotion into deeper canyons

Searching for hope in the middle of despair

One more voice in the cacophony

Trying to make sense of that day

Looking for comfort in shared memories

A prayer spoken to a God seemingly absent

Where were you when the towers fell

When life forever changed direction

When the cocoon was ripped open

When the skyline of our vision was forever altered

We reach for one another

Looking for warmth when our hearts were chilled

To pull some idea of sense from the horror

To tell each other we are not alone

We fly the flag of our freedom

Sometimes at half staff

To honor those who died

To give meaning to the senselessness

How can one forget

How can one not remember

How can we ever go back to the "good old days"

When the only thing to fear was fear itself

One more voice in the cacophony

One more song

One more prayer

One more day

J.P. Wiegand

©Emittravel 2011



Forgotten Dolls

My oldest niece turned sixteen this past month. Couldn't believe it. I remember her at her first birthday taking her first steps from Grandpa to me and back. As part of her birthday gifts I gave her a copy of a poem that I wrote for her mother at HER sixteenth birthday while I was away in the Navy. Enjoy.

P.S. - Picture at the bottom is of my sister's original Raggedy Ann doll. -j.p.

They sit in the corner of the room,

collecting dust.

No longer do small hands caress and hold them.

Clothes and tea parties,

houses and carriages,

forgotten memories worn deep in parting seems.

The cradle is covered,

no longer in use,

sitting in the attic;

just waiting for love and someone to hold.

In passing days and endless ways,

tiny feet and tear stained pillow;

generation lost and gained.

Child grown.

Too old for dolls.

Companionship and love,

be new toys for growing mind and heart.

Pretty dresses turn faded jeans.

Shoes with heels replace booties of pink.

Talcum set aside for rouge and eye shadow.

Growing pains and loving gains,

with goals of heart and challenges of spirit,

come day by day,

and each birthday past.

Through the layers of dust,

that has settled since then,

a single tear falls down worn cheek.

Cutting a path through the grime

of memories long gone.

Moments lost for eternity’s sake.

A single tear.

On a timeless,

smiling face.

Shed for a girl who has grown up and on.


J.P. Wiegand
© Emittravel 1986

 

© Emittravel 2011

Through These Doors

An exit?

Or an entrance?

The end?

Or the beginning?

Perspective determines attitude.

Or is it the other way around?

Where are you going?

Have you given it thought?

Or are you walking through these doors

into the hands of chance?

The footsteps of the righteous

are ordained of the Lord.

As you pass through these doors,

they will close behind you;

forever separating these portions of your life.

Memories that fade in time.

Good.

Bad.

Gone.

Your future lays before you.

Your past behind you.

Through these doors.

J.P. Wiegand

©Emittravel 2000

A gift for the graduates. -j.p.

© Emittravel 2011