Feature Poet

I decided this month to dedicate a post to one of my best friends, who is an amazing poet. She finally started up a blog. Her writings can be found at http://wovenhumanity.blogspot.com/
I hope you all enjoy this poem!


Davi
by Mackenzie Evans

You were a breath of fresh air
Bursting through
The stagnant oxygen
My lungs were used to breathing in
As our eyes met
For the first time
In a long time
And my eyes
Filled with light
For the second time
In a long time
As your eyes
Kissed my soul
For the first time
Ever

And it made me feel so alive

Alive as in
Crazy
Stupid
Heart racing
Brain-blanking
Passion
Coursing through my veins
Feeling insane
This feeling of life

And you hugged me
Tightly
Squeezing every attempt
To pretend
From my lungs and
Breathing life
Right back into me
Right where it used to be
Unsteady
Unpredictable yet
Unchanging
Faithfully erasing
My every attempt at creating
A sense of contentment
Amidst the mediocrity
That I called life
Then you called bullshit
Exposing my hypocrisy
And as your lips spoke
Words that meant nothing
Began to mean something
And it wasn't to long
Before
Those somethings
Became everything
And everything
Was an addicting
Exchange of desire

And honestly
The best synonym
For desire is fire
Because
Of its all-consuming
Powerfully engulfing
Intoxicating nature
Along with the
All to real risk
Of getting burned
But
It comes with the promise
That you'll never
Feel the cold

So I inhaled the smoke
Billowing around me
Tasting ashes laced with
Wishful thinking
Knowing I had only dreamt
To feel the way I felt
When our fingertips touched
Dancing
Twisting around each other
Lightly
As if feeling for a foundation
To fall in love from

But as I exhaled the smoke
From with in me
I tasted decay laced with
Guilty feelings
Reminding me
I cant talk your hand
Because someone else
Is holding mine
And I cant give you my love
Because someone else
Has a claim on mine

And that I've lived
Every day
Holding my breath
Waiting
Simply for a moment
To take it away
And that you took it

And I cant take it back
Even if I really wanted to
And I really wanted you
And still want you
Want you to hear
What I've written here

But they're just words
Words to some
Meaning absolutely nothing
Words to others
Holding an intriguing something and
Words to me
That mean everything
They are just words
Words that hold the power
To leave me with
Nothing.

The end

Currency
By Brianna Anderson

Three stories, one family, unable to escape that ever-living demon we call “debt.”
The kind of black hole that sucks away the life of every soul.
The overwhelming load of bills piled too high to ignore or forget.

43 years old, father and head of the household.
He’s awake again in the middle of the night.
The tenants above him are fighting again, their drunken insults piercing through the thin walls of low income apartments.
He changes the TV channels a dozen times, too tired to care if he’ll find something worth watching.
The neighbors are enough entertainment for one night; he just wants to get some sleep.
Sleep needed for a 10 hour shift that starts at 6 AM, earning a paycheck that only brings him closer to bankruptcy.

45 years old, mother and educator of her children.
She can’t fall asleep because the pain in her back is so unbearable,
so she just lies there, praying the pain will go away soon.
Soon enough for her to start her day cleaning other people’s houses while putting away a few dollars she’ll never spend on herself because her children’s needs are more important.

20 years old, sister, student and oldest child.
The neon colored postcard in her hand practically screams “not good enough,” reminding her that tuition payments are late again.
Taking the semester off is not an option; she’ll have to work two jobs.
She refreshes the webpage of her online bank account, making a wish after every click,
waiting for a miracle to happen at the stroke of midnight.
But its 12 AM Thursday morning and payday is still another 24 hours away.

Three stories, one family, all part of a greater plan,
one that started long ago, starting with the fall of man.
Their souls were bought at the highest price; the blood of God’s son used as currency,
paying off their debts in full.

Father, mother and daughter alike have atonement for life.
The transaction of transferred holiness already made;
a kind of bond never to be repaid.

Happy is just an emotion
by Brianna Anderson

Joy. There’s nothing else like it.
It’s something we fight for
and never completely loose.
When your feelings are in an uproar,
joy sometimes gets caught on the emotional rollercoaster
and rides alongside depression and anger.
But when it gets off at its destination,
you find it again, in a higher sphere far above.

Happy is just an emotion,
that changes color quicker than a moodring’s touch can sensor.
Joy is an attitude pursued;
coming from something outside of this inward feud.
I am filled with joy when I am nearest to Him,
just as I feel the heat of the sun the closer I stand next to its rays.

Although troubles surround them, birds sing best in their cages.
giving praises to the glory of our brightest days;
the comfort of our nights.
We too can do the same.
Our souls will rise to see the light.

*I was inspired to write this after reading Charles Spurgeon's "Morning and Evening" devotions
http://www.crosswalk.com/devotionals/morningandevening/morning-and-evening-7-or-2-am-551320.html

Learning to Forget

by Brianna Anderson

Your presence still lingers, a lost limb,
the scar scratches.
You killed what meant most to me.
Didn't know you'd change your mind,
that's now how it’s supposed to be.
You’re my missing puzzle piece.
Now you’ve left me here alone
picking up the pieces, scattered on the floor.
We don’t fit together anymore.

I’m learning to forget, everything you said.
Something greater than you or I
has to put the pieces back together.

He must be your all
before you give a piece of yourself away,
for those you love.
But don’t lose sight of what is true.

Eyes fixed on heaven, all I desire.
Fills my heart with joy
Lord make me whole!

This poem was inspired by various conversations I’ve had with friends about breakups and my friend with the crying heart tattoo ;)

Whitworth's tuition increase

After nearly 7 hours of video editing, our final project for our Interactive Journalism class is done!!



Video story final group project:
Brianna Anderson
Melissa Ross
Cherise Marron

Smoking at Whitworth-Podcast

Podcast project 1:
Brianna Anderson
Melissa Ross
Cherise Marron

Thank you Andy Schwartzmeyer for helping us convert the audio files!

Words Unspoken
by Brianna Anderson

He doesn’t say a word as he takes a seat in the pew in front of hers,
That pretty woman that goes to his same church each week.
He’s looking out into the whole world looking for “the one,”
When all this time she’s sitting right there!
My, that is some technique.

But wait, he’s afraid of affection,
He finally notices her, but is too proud to face objection.
Come on now, don’t be shy, modesty accounts for nothing
If it’s only pretense while the mind runs wild,
Just ask her out and be beguiled.

Women are not mind readers,
A wink or flirtatious glance is not enough.
Speak your mind and be a leader.
Take up your arms men, shoot and fire!
Arm yourselves with words of intent,
Filled with purpose and understandable content.

Words unspoken, hearts never broken.
But where’s the care in that?
How many women must you look at?
Before you decide that she’s “the one”
She’s sitting right there
Behind you in that chair!
Waiting for you to talk to her,
So please…just ask her out!