Category Archives: Poetry

Adrift- A Poem

Adrift by Locopelli at deviantart.com

Cut loose from the moorings we drift into the vast unknown
Moving with the unseen current we feel we are exploring a new path
No bonds to hold us to the past, no ties to the relationships that made us
Adrift in an ocean of possibilities, liberated from the archaic maps
No compass to guide, no homeland to call home
Vagabonds on the currents of the endless horizon

Yet, the thrill of the journey fades as the sameness of the sea sets in
Surrounded by water that we cannot drink and food we cannot catch
We left behind the old tools that enabled survival and navigation
Confident in our own ability to create a way in the unending meaninglessness
In our sought freedom we find ourselves enslaved to the currents of time
Adrift with countless other voyagers trapped in our disconnection
Searching for a new port.

Neil White, 2013

Words and Will

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Creation by Selfish Eden (deviantart.com)

There are no magic words, no secret sounds that bend the world
And yet words have power in the hearers mind
They can create and destroy, build up or tear down
Yet the speaker can only have an imagined result
The secret lies in the will of the audience

The hearer grants the power to the spoken and written word
Accepts the compliment, absorbs the dagger or simply chooses to ignore
Words may fall on ears that hear or on deaf ears, yet they are the same words
In one setting they may invoke desire or love, in another rejection
Some may invite into an adventure into another world, yet they can only invite
Even when they shame, cajole, and ridicule they may strike their mark
Or they may fall as useless barbs to the floor before the will that deems them unworthy

Yet without the words, the good and the bad the will remains at rest
Caught within its own world, not knowing the possibilities and dangers that rest beyond
The will grants one person’s words powers and deems another’s powerless
And yet with the magic of words and will are worlds inhabited
Love and hatred, fear and hope, science and magic all reside
In words and will

Neil White, 2013

Weighed Down: A Poem

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The weight of two worlds resting on the shoulders
As Atlas tried to bear not only his own burdens
But relieve the fears and burdens of others
Knowing that the titan’s constitution would bear the one
But bearing them both would crush body and spirit
Does he dare consider the freedom of letting go
Or does he continue to bear the soul crushing weight?

Neil White, 2013

The Illusion of Control: A Poem

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Clocks by Azoz7 on Deviantart.com

Control is a grand illusion that we cast
Within its shroud we dispel the shadows of doubt
But there are moments when its veil is pierced
And we realize our own powerlessness
Caught in the thrall of things beyond our control
Yet as we seek to reestablish the illusion
We are thrust into the quagmire
Of our insecurities and inadequacies
And we flounder for a foothold
To free ourselves from our fears
And the awareness our lives are not our own

Neil White, 2013

The Transplanted Rose-A Poem and an Update

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As I continue to follow the path laid before me
Blown by the Spirit’s movement to once again pull up roots
To be transplanted in some new place, some new soil
One would think that after so many places, so many gardens
That leaving would be easier, but rather it grows harder
For the rose’s roots became intertwined with the other roots
From the garden where I have grown and healed for three cycles
And I will miss the beauty of the other flowers

I grieve any pain my dislocation causes the garden
And yet, such is the cost of love and connection
Somedays I see only the trail of broken hearts left behind
And not the gift of their friendship and companionship in my sojourn
Each garden, each place, each climate, each connection
Have nourished my growth, fed my spirit and allowed me to bloom
And within my memory I carry the care and compassion of so many
And I long for the day when my roots are again planted.

Update: I am moving to take the call as the pastor of Rejoice Lutheran in Frisco, Texas which means leaving behind the many connections I have formed at Trinity Lutheran in Papillion, Nebraska and the broader Papillion and Omaha areas. The actual transition will take place in the second half of September, but as my current congregation now is aware of this move it begins the grieving process for both me and them. Several of my earlier poems like Tension and Waiting were also written while contemplating this decision. I’m not sure how this transition will affect my postings on SignoftheRose, I plan to keep up with the blog but if my posting slows down it will be due to the requirements of the move or the new position.

Tension- A Poem

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A life stretched between two different worlds
Trying to hold onto both until the tension becomes too great
And one must be grieved, lost and held in a memory
While another springs to life full of new possibilities
Straining in that moment of tension and potential energy
Praying the spring does not snap and emotions can remain steady
As the world convulses and changes around me

Bandera- A Poem

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Every blade of grass comes armed with some spear, barb or spike
And the soil is only a thin blanket covering a bed of limestone
Where the dry winds and the burning heat
Bake the fields like bread in an oven
Roadrunners dart among the cedar trees searching for snakes
While scorpions patrol the dust vigilantly with their tales held high
The clouds rumble and complain as they float through the sky
As if some angry god refused to shed a tear for the parched earth beneath
Yet through the burning summer life continues to persevere
Birds sing their songs while flies and bees buzz through the air
The deer seek out the few remaining pools in the dried creek bed
And for all its arid heat there is a beauty that draws me back home
Through most of the year I dwell where the soil is dark and deep
Where the rains fall and the corn grows tall
And the land is green and the grass is soft
But this dusty land is in my blood and draws me back as one of its own

Neil White, 2013

Icarus

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Herbert James Draper, Mourning for Icarus (1898)

There are days when I push carelessly beyond the bounds of my own mortality
Brushing against the edge of the heavens in the frantic flight of my own fancy
And I try to capture the moon and stars while ascending to the seat of the sun
In the valiant pursuit of my own vainglory; trespassing of the limits of body and soul
Yet, for the moment I soar within the vision of my mind’s imagination
But it is not long before my cramping muscles and my throbbing head remind me
I am indeed mortal and not a god, that my limits are painfully real
That my wings are only a clever construct of wood and leather and stolen feathers
Held together with pins and hinges and melted wax
And that as I approach the fire in the sky they evaporate in the heat
While my body finds itself unable to sustain its efforts on the thin air of the heavens
So I plummet again to my home in the dust, collapsing into the hard embrace of earth
Wounded in body and spirit and yet the deepest blow is to the pride
Yet, my body heals and the spirit forgets and the ego yearns
As I once again tan the leather and steal the feathers and build the wings
For the next time I try to make the impossible ascent into the heavens

Neil White, 2013

The Scars of the Past

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We all bear the marks of
Mistakes made that cannot be undone
Hearts broken by betrayal
Regrets of roads not taken
Days when dreams are dashed
False hopes that proved to be illusions
And the wear and tear of life
That left scar tissue in the places
Where we knit ourselves back together

Most days the scars blend into the background
Blending in with the rest of us that is good and whole
Yet, sometimes the scars burn red hot
As old wounds are reopened
As an instant takes us back to the mistakes of yesterday
When our hearts are broken anew
When doors close
When our dreams seem to slip through our fingers
And the wear and tear of life
Tears at the skin still trying to make itself whole again

We all have scars and wounds
We all are in the process of healing
In this journey we call life
Sometimes we are able to bind another’s wounds
Othertimes we can only sit by holding a hand
Praying they will stop wounding themselves
Sometimes all we can see are the scars of the past
Unable to see the living tissue that moves towards tomorrow
But our scars, though they mark us
They do not make us

We walk towards the day when mistakes are forgiven
When hearts are healed by love
When we can choose the road of our destiny
When we dare to chase our dreams again
Where hope does not disappoint
And where the laughter and love of life
Allow us to accept ourselves as we are
As whole, even able to accept the beauty
Of the scars of the past

Neil White, 2013

Looking Back

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Looking back through the photos of another lifetime ago
Looking at this young man with the belief that he will go out and conquer the world
That the struggles of the moments are merely obstacles to be overcome
And the conflicts that will arise in the future are merely opportunities to test one’s mettle
If he knew the pain and the heartaches that lie ahead
The ways in which everything he knew would be shaken to the core
Would he change course or would he stay the path?

As I look into the eyes of my twenty year old self, captured in pictures two decades old
In the midst of the steely idealism and implacable optimism
With his awkward quietness and fiery intensity
When I look I see both myself then and the person I would become
As I walk through the pictures that mark the years and wonder at each point
Would I make the same decisions again or would I change them

I can see the ways in which each step was less a choice
And more an unfolding of the person I was becoming
For the young man I see in the past is the man I see in the mirror
Minus the experience and knowledge that can only come through the journey
And even the parts of my life I wouldn’t wish on an enemy
I wouldn’t trade for myself for they made me who I am

And without changing who I am and who I was
I would still make the same choices, or at least all the important ones
And still within there is that same steely idealism and implacable optimism
Sometimes the awkward quietness still comes out
Most of the time the fiery intensity remains
Yet the twenty years were not in vain as they stretched and challenged me
Learning love and loss, trust and betrayal
And even when good guys finish last they are still themselves
And so I go to sleep, looking back not seeking a better past
Still hopeful enough to look for a better future

Neil White, 2013

Sign of the Rose

Searchings: Sacred and Secular

Category Archives: Poetry

Adrift- A Poem

Words and Will

Weighed Down: A Poem

The Illusion of Control: A Poem

The Transplanted Rose-A Poem and an Update

Tension- A Poem

Bandera- A Poem

Icarus

The Scars of the Past

Looking Back