Sarcasm: The Voice of the Injured Coward

Proverbs 12:18 The words of the reckless pierce like swords, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.


Visible
cowardice in thick yellow skin
pinhole craters filled with zest
until lost;
sunken into the white pithe of bitterness
as sour words flood your mouth
like liquid metal
at first intriguing
as if to awaken
instead bitterness resonates
like a mouth full of pennies
the after taste of blood
sits on your forked-tongue
cutting deep like a sword
leaving the heart to bleed
without even a slice
the scars form
raised flesh
invisible

© Copyright 2011 Christine Maxwell

Some Assembly Required

I'm not a puzzle you can solve
or a problem you can resolve
just because I come in pieces doesn't mean I'm broken
each piece of me is still a whole
I'm just me and there is some assembly required


Dedicated to all my peeps that fall within the spectrum . . . you know who you are ; )

© Copyright 2011 Christine Maxwell

The Eyes of a Mother's Heart

(4 Thursday Poets Rally Week 38)

When I look at his pictures
I wonder what others see
do they see the beauty in him
that truly captured me?

Do they see his lips the way I do
pink and tender folds
wet tongue behind their softness
seeking my nipple to take hold

Do they imagine all the smiles
that would have twisted and turned those lips
the kisses from wet puckers
and laughter derived from quips


Do they see his nose the way I do
his nostrils a bit a flare
the kisses I imagine
I would have placed on the bridge right there?

Its turned up dainty tip
reminiscent of his mother's
would have grown into its ruggedness
just as it did his brothers'

Do they see his ears the way I do?
Those large elongated lobes
A Maxwell trait for sure
stretching the length of his globe

Do they imagine all the nibbles & kisses
I would have placed there on those flaps
his fingers softly stroking them
as he'd drift off for noontime naps?


Do they see the crux of his neck
longing for my soft nuzzles
his beating pulse beneath the skin
life's rhythm; full of puzzles

Do they imagine his squealing belly laughs
and gurgles . . . spilling drool
derived from my tickling kisses there
as I love him up, like a smothering fool


Do they see the man
I imagine he would've become
the deep voice & broad shoulders
all the things he would've done

created memories
from a heart with but a few
not in order to hold on
but to let go and true love shew

for I know he's in a better place
his body all brand new
waiting for his family there
to show us how he grew

We love you Isaiah Michael Maxwell and we'll see you soon!
03.08.2010-03.18.2010



© Copyright 2011 Christine Maxwell

A Seasoned Word

Let your speech be always with grace , seasoned with salt , that ye may know how ye ought to answer every man .
- - Colossians 4 : 6


sprinkled salt
enhances flavor
dissipating quick
but does its job
to leave behind a plate to savor and lick

unearths the subtle
tempers the bitter
challenges the bold,
balances out the sweetness
marries flavors to behold

and so our words
we hope to be
truth so sprinkled with salt
unifying . . . spreading peace
but surely not to a fault

all in moderation
for too much salt
can spoil
repulsive to the pallet
burning like a coil


© Copyright 2011 Christine Maxwell

School Yard Rules

Ignore the bully and it will go away
snow-topped steps unmarred by children
in protest of winter's stay

no snowmen standing proud and tall
no boots all clumped with snow
no angels painted on the lawn
from tiny bodies on the go

inside; blanket forts
beyond painted brick and lumber,
children settle down
to take their noon-time slumber

tomato soup and warm grilled cheese
story time and books
laughter over silly jokes
give heed to warning looks

coloring and playing checkers
outside; cold's redundant treasure
no attention is paid to that,
which once held so much pleasure

yet still a hopeful bird
calls for spring's release
and across the river
the church bells echo
as if timing winter's fleece

upon it's 1st arrival
we beg winter for it's best
but then in dreary slumber
it stretches past welcomed guest

taking over all our lives
it becomes rude and overbearing
we beg for it to leave
yet it just doesn't seem to be hearing

so we do what we've been taught
ignore the bully and it will go
but what's that outside I see?
MORE freshly fallen snow?!

© Copyright 2011 Christine Maxwell

BRICK by BRICK

Sshh...listen freedom's calling
Give way to grace
bricks are falling
my walls are coming down

the corners break, the mortar crumbles
laws writ in stone
the heavens rumble
once stone cold, now beating flesh
grace carves my heart
blood pours out fresh
my walls are coming down

brick by brick I built my wall
he chiseled through
my name, His call
once captive behind my sin and fears
He shook the earth
He wiped my tears
my walls are coming down

A prisoner; I step beyond the walls
my chains are loosed
my Savior calls
I reach for Him, hungry, thirsty and tired
He lifts me up
out of rubble and fire
my walls are coming down

He carries me; I'm heaven bound
once trapped and lost
now forever found
my walls they all came down

© Copyright 2011 Christine Maxwell