A Flooded Imagination

Yeah, the mind of a poet can get flooded, from time to time, with things to write about. Key words... random phrases... whole concepts, even. But most of the time they just stay up there in the brew, and thankfully, God sorts it out for me and tells me exactly what to write and how, even when.

This week's been kinda busy... but it's been pretty good. Bunch of good news that I would tell ya if you walked up to me on the street and asked how I was doing, but I think it's insignificant for this post. Here's the "weekly" poem...

"Talkin' With My God"
by Neil Mullins

When I talk with people-
With my friends-
The speech seems feeble,
Talking about means, but not ends.

Don't get me wrong now-
My friends are great-
But talkin' with my God, wow,
It fills me so much as of late.

Because when I talk with my God,
His name gets the fame
And when I share Him with others
I'm never put to shame.

Constant Vigil of Grace

Well, today marks my 25th post on this blog. Actually I didn't know that until I looked at my post count today. Now, if I had known, maybe I could have written some celebratory poem or something. But, especially in light of Monday's tragedy, I think something a bit more sober (and somber) comes to mind... but it is not all blackened and bruised...

"The Face Factory"
by Neil Mullins

I came into the factory today
To put smiles on some faces
But my boss told me, to my dismay
Those smiles wouldn't have cases.

"We're making frowns today," says he,
And when pressed for a reason, he replied,
"Because this week, tragedy struck:
Someone went out and made a killing spree."

This I just could not believe,
All I did in shock was stare
And tears rolled as I grieved
To kneel down humbly in prayer...

"Oh Lord, how can this be?
That so many innocents
Were taken so violently?

Where will the colors run now?
And the frowns coming off the line
How will they stop, Lord? How?"

And as I knelt in patience and despair
I felt my soul lifted in His loving care
God said to me, "Fear not for the orange and maroon;
As for the smiles, get ready...
Demand will be heavy for them soon."

(Dedicated in memory of the lives lost
at Virginia Tech on April 16, 2007)

A Pendant of Love?...

Well, I am 21 years old now... though that doesn't seem to change much, aside from the fact that I can now drink alcoholic beverages (I like Chardonnay as far as wines go, and beer is OK). In other news...

I have been accepted to Santa Monica Summer Project 2007, and am now raising support for it

Classes are going well

And my job at Staples is just fine too.

Here's this week's poem...

"Heart of Gold"
by Neil Mullins

I saw a girl once
With a chain around her neck
And the pendant
At the bottom of it
Begged me to check...

She had this heart of gold, you see
One I thought was pure and true
But the funny thing about it was,
When you looked in her eyes,
You could see right through (...her)

And it made me wonder
Where my own heart was
If it wasn't tarnished
If it had lost its shine
Even though it's been washed
In Holy wine

I have this heart of gold, you see
One I think is pure and true
But the funny thing about it is,
When You look in my eyes
You can see right through (...me)

Light and Steam Through the Tunnel

So, this poem is actually a song, meaning that when I wrote the words last week (during Spring Break), a tune came along with them. That's never happened before. Anyhoo, here is my first song. Naturally, it's about trains, my lifelong interest.

"Hear That Whistle Blow"
by Neil Mullins

Now back in the day
We didn't have any horns.
And the rift that they caused
Hadn't yet been torn.

And we knew back then
Who was king of the rails.
And we never did think
That he ever would fail.

Chorus:
Oh won't you hear that whistle blow?
Won't you hear that whistle blow?
Oh, the pistons are achin'
And the pressure is makin'
So won't you hear that whistle blow?

Now every time at the crossin'
That whistle would blow
And you knew just to stay there
Or to heaven you'd go.

And someone would ask you,
"Why'd the king have to die?"
And then you'd say to them,
(Pre-chorus) "Well boy, here's why but first won't you tell me...

Chorus

Now the whistle's long gone
Been replaced by the horn.
And the steam by the diesel
With the last too forlorn.

And many a man do cry
At the railroader's loss
But don't you wor-rie
'Cuz it's still an iron horse.

Chorus

...and won't you hear that whistle... blow?