Excerpt for The Sword and Pen: The Poetry of Holy Worlds by Holy Worlds, available in its entirety at Smashwords

The Sword and Pen:


The Poetry of Holy Worlds


foreword by Jay Lauser




Cover, Foreword, Introduction, and “About Us” Copyright 2012 Holy Worlds.


All poetry, drabbles, and six-word-stories Copyright 2012 by their respective authors. Used with permission.


All rights reserved. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.


Smashwords edition, published January 2012



Production Team

Katie Lynn Daniels – Kaitlyn Emery – Elsa Gustafsson – Caleb R. Joyce – R. S. Sharkey – Aubrey Hansen


Contributors

Sienna North – Ophelia M. Shaye – Kaitlyn Emery – Arias Myles – Jasmine Ruigrok – Caleb R. Joyce – Bethany Faith – Carissa Mann – Kimberly Lewis – Jay Lauser – David J. Hartung – Taylor E. Morgan – A. Andrew Joyce – Jonathan Garner – Luke Alistar – Aubrey Hansen – Zoe M. Scrivener – Elizabeth Kirkwood – L. Mark C. – Katie Lynn Daniels – R. S. Sharkey – Hannah Brock – Elsa Gustafsson – Josiah Mann


Editors

Elsa Gustafsson – Kaitlyn Emery – Aubrey Hansen – Caleb R. Joyce – Taylor E. Morgan – Jonathan Garner – Kitra Skene – L. Mark C. – R. S. Sharkey


Foreword

Jay Lauser


Introduction

Katie Lynn Daniels


Interior Formatting

Aubrey Hansen


Cover Design

A. Andrew Joyce




Foreword


Poetry is the stuff of legends.


Quite literally. All of the great legends and epics of times past were written in meter, with rhyme and rhythm, with alliteration and eloquence wrapped in metronomed cadences. It was the language of the bards, the communication of myths, the stuff of legends.


Unfortunately, modern literate culture has drifted from the grandeur and glory of the ancient poets around fires in great halls, and has degraded on the one hand to an esoteric and enigmatic hodgepodge of vague, bitter essences, or on the other to an insipid and shallow plashing pool of meaningless, trite inanity. And as such, it is common for denizens of our modern age to laugh off all sorts of poetry as either pointless or beneath them, never venturing into the great potential which lies in the halls of poetry.


The Holy Worlds community has transcended both these expectations. These wonderful folks have compiled a beautiful anthology of poetic pieces as diverse and rich as they themselves are. This is what they are all about; this is who they are inside – their passion. Holy Worlds is all about breaking expectations in genres and going for the gold in quality, and doing it all for the glory of God without being preachy.


And so, I am proud to present to you a collaborative creation the like of which you have never seen before. Enjoy!


Sincerely,

Jay Lauser

Founder and Head of Holy Worlds




Introduction


The idea of a compilation of poetry was first conceived by Caleb Joyce on March 5, 2011. The idea received Council ratification within a matter of days, and a panel of organizers was formed. Over the next six months members of Holy Worlds compiled and edited 136 entries, finally turning over the project to formatters and designers who made it ready for publication.


The Sword and Pen: The Poetry of Holy Worlds is a labor of love. Poetry was entered in three categories by 23 contributors and polished by 9 editors. The categories were traditional form poetry, drabbles, and six-word-stories, or Hemingways.


A drabble is a story told in 100 words. Because of the short length of a drabble, each word must be carefully chosen and placed exactly. It is a much stricter form of art than your typical short story; thus, these stories tend to capture the essence of a tale rather than the actual facts, much in the form of a poem.


A Hemingway is a story told in exactly six words. They are so-named because the idea was first conceived by Ernest Hemingway, who considered his best story to be the following: “For sale: baby shoes. Never used.” A thread on Holy Worlds challenged members to create their own poignant and meaningful six-word stories, using the art of brevity. Out of 57 pages of conversation on the subject, 38 Hemingways were submitted and accepted into the poetry book to demonstrate the power of simplicity.


The poetry is of a wide variety: love poems nestle next to three page epics, and upon turning the leaf you may be confronted by an example of hilarity or a deep reflection into the love of God. It is our hope that this volume will bring as much entertainment and meaning to you as we put into making it.


Katie Lynn Daniels

Council Member on Holy Worlds




Contents


Section I: Poetry


Section II: Drabbles


Section III: Six-Word Stories




Part I:


POEMS




Blind

by Sienna North


She sat, the girl, in darkness bound,

With flames beside her on the ground.

Her face was grim, her hair tied back;

Her hands clenched tight, her shoulders slack.

She sat as still as graven stone;

Beside the flames she sat alone.


For long and deep the silence stretched,

Till flames died down and slowly slept.

To ashes grey did fire fall;

Came cold and black, consuming all.


The girl arose in fear and doubt

And placed her hands on ashes dim

To search for strength and will within.

She felt a spark that faded out,

But called again, till in her hands

Came living flames from many lands.

A smile graced her solemn face

As fire and flames her fears erased.


Yet, even now, with warmth before

The girl’s own heart, it longed for more:

For larger flames and brighter light;

For strong and whole and steady sight.


Her face grew grim as, once again,

The griefs of life consumed within.

For how could flames defeat the night—

So dark, so still, so full of might?


And yet, the hope held in her heart

Of love and sight would not depart.

So while the night did still remain,

Her hopes were pictured in the flames,

And she who sat with face so grim

Could wait in peace for light to win.




Drifting

by Taylor E. Morgan


Willow tree watches all

Every thing, big or tall

Drifting downward items fall

Mockingbirds chirp their call




The Mystic Dance

by Kaitlyn Emery


Reality fades as sunlight turns to star bright

I hear the music of chirping things through the sky

Beckoning forth the dwellers of shadowy night

Awaken from deep slumber to dance, sing, and fly


Midst the whispers of twilight they come out to play

Their whispery breath replete with shimmering song

For the mystical breezes of fairyland stray

Summoning stirrings for you to come join along


Suspended through air like a gossamer ghost

Flitting on wings of glistening wonders and grace

Their splendor and majesty no one else can boast

With such wonders I pray I never leave this place


Their enthralling melody has ended, alas

With sunrise awakened their harmony will fade

As first light breaks forth their haunting refrain shall pass

And the tacit memory once more will be laid


Eyes awaken once more to cold reality

The dream world shattered with no more soul-filled enchants

I’ll reenter the world of scenic fantasy

When I close my eyes and reimagine the dance




Wind-Child

by Katie Lynn Daniels


Wind-child

Standing lonely

Staring at the distant shore

Longs for freedom

Longs for beauty

Longs for what she had before


Wind-child

Lift your face up

Watch the clouds go sailing past

Weep for freedom

Weep for beauty

Weep for what can never last


Wind-child

In the darkness

Watch the rain fall at your feet

Dream of freedom

Dream of beauty

Dream of ending your defeat


Wind-child

Keep your promise

Keep your feet here on the ground

Remember freedom

Remember beauty

Remember all the things you’ve found


Wind-child

Storms pass over

Thickly comes the falling rain

Strive for freedom

Strive for beauty

Strive for what won’t be again.


Wind-child…

Freedom…

Beauty…


She is gone.




Cry of Darkness – Song of Light

by Zoe M. Scrivener


Born in darkness,

A child of the night.

A slave to evil,

No hope in sight.


Ruled by wickedness,

Told it was good.

Unable to change,

Even if I would.


But by sacrifice,

Unblemished and pure,

The true King provided

The perfect cure.


I cried from darkness.

He set me free.

A child of light,

Called to be.


His righteousness mine,

Forgiven of wrong.

Forever to praise Him

In joyful song.




The Testimony

by Aubrey Hansen


I had it all in order

My defense was sure to stand

My rights, my life, my worthiness

Recorded all by hand

I had a list of all my deeds

The times I’d saved a life

The laws I’d kept, the truths I’d bore

My testimony clothed in white

It was quite the showcase

An offering bound to please

Surely He would not refuse

My sugar-coated pleas


I finished my presentation

And waited for His smile

But before a verdict could be laid

Someone else walked up the aisle

The Adversary, clothed in black

Took the prosecutor’s stand

And with a sneer, he procured a stack

Of bloodied papers in his hand

He had a list of all my lies

The times I’d hurt a friend

The laws I’d broke, the truths I’d scorned

Then he dared me to defend

He took my lists of merit

And tore them all to shreds

Then with a laugh he vanished

Leaving bloodguilt on my head


With the verdict given

He called me to the throne

Kneeling at the Judge’s feet

Through bleeding lips I groaned

I faintly heard Him say it

That I deserved to die

I begged with tears for mercy

Believing He would scorn my cry


And then

Before the gavel fell

He spoke

One word, I live to tell –


Pardoned

Behold the open door

Go thy way

And sin no more




Dream Beyond the Lullabye

by Elizabeth Kirkwood


Gaze into the cool deep sky,

Wonder the fresh predawn glow,

Dream beyond the lullabye.


Dream the burning stars' dance;

Dream the shining hope afar;

Dream the radiant dawn's light;

Dream beyond the lullabye.


Watch the dawn flood the night,

Run the wide, feel hard cold earth,

Dream beyond the lullabye.


Dream the burning stars' dance;

Dream the shining hope afar;

Dream the radiant dawn's light;

Dream beyond the lullabye.


Feel the rhythmic beat inside,

Fight for good and evil despise,

Never give into the fear at night,

Dream beyond the lullabye.




Carving Out the Stone

by David J. Hartung


While I was through some hills wandering

I chanced upon a field of tombs

The graves were open wide and yawning

Awaiting their future tenants' doom


I came upon one just my height

And of nearly perfect breadth

And in the shaking light

I heard a chant of death


A dirge that bore my name

A list of all my crimes

The sins that would become my bane

To the tune of mournful chimes


But that time was not yet here

So I went forth my sins to kill

I went forth to war without fear

I went out armed with an iron will


But when at last they were found

I found temptation was too strong

In sin I was quickly, tightly bound

And toward the grave I dragged along


I then called to the King of War

I called out for the only Yahweh

Asking Him to help me more

Asking Him inside my heart to stay


I cannot fight the war I'm in

I cannot win a battle or campaign

I cannot fight this war with sin

I cannot skirmish through this pain


So the plan of Jesus I must use

To kill my sin, it will take submission

And if His way I go then sin will lose

And I'll be free of my dead condition


He will fight my wars for me

He will take my wounds

He will always find the victory

Gladly he takes my wounds


He will take my beatings

He will take my pain

Like a lamb I hear his bleatings

And know I was His bane


He has promised my soul to save

He will my deepest insides change

He will drag my sin into my grave

And give my death then in exchange


So if my grave my sin is to receive

And if I am to see temptation wane

And if I am to see my pain recede

Only one change doth yet remain


Change the stone we surely must

It can no longer bear my name

Let us break it, beat it to dust

Let us hew one wherewith sin to tame


I say let it read thus:

HEREIN LIES SIN

HEREIN FOOLS DO TRUST

BORN IN EDEN

LIVED ALONG FOR MANY YEARS

'TIL IT DIED UPON A CROSS

ALONG WITH DEATH AND ALL MY FEARS

NOW NONE SHALL MOURN HER LOSS


In saying this my heart is seared

So since He must fight my sin alone

And He'll destroy what I have feared

I'll be carving out the stone.




Protection

by Katie Lynn Daniels


I have carried you on eagles’ wings and brought you here to me

I have rescued you from certain death and then I set you free

I have given you my precious love; I’ve given you my song

I have made of you a precious stone; you are where you belong


I have led you through the shadow and I’ve lifted you from mire

I have saved you from disaster and I’ve brought you through the fire

I have carried you through sorrow and the force of Satan’s might

I have been your hope and mainstay; I have been your only light.




My Faith is More than Words

by Ophelia M. Shaye


My faith is more than words; it's so much more than feelings.

Part of it is trusting, no matter what life's dealing.


My faith is more than saying, "I feel safe, so I believe."

It's knowing in the hard times, that God will never leave.


My faith is more than saying, "I believe, so I am fine."

My faith is surrendering everything I once called mine.


My faith is more than actions, when I choose right from wrong.

Faith is always knowing, to Jesus I belong.


My faith is not trusting in my own simple thought.

My faith is truly knowing, by Jesus I am bought.


My faith's not always sturdy. I get scared, confused; there's strife.

But I know that I am safe, 'cause Jesus holds my very life.




Emmanuel’s Blood

by Aubrey Hansen


Emmanuel's Blood

Surpasses the fairest gold

Precious, was this blood spilt

For the sins of mankind untold

That high hill of Calvary

Received this priceless drip

A man

Yet not just a man

Whose blood was spilt

“What’s so special?” you may say

“About this blood

“That stained those rocks that day?”

Yea, this blood is special, precious

Worth the lives of man

Taken from the Father’s hand


Emmanuel’s Blood

Flows clearer than the mountain springs

Washes clean the stains of guilt

Makes men worthy to be kings

Though man may try

To wipe this stain

Of sin

And Hell’s death call

All their work shall be in vain

For only one can heal the wound

That mankind carries from the womb

This the blood of Jesus, Christ

Worth the lives of man

Taken from the Father’s hand


Emmanuel’s Blood

Yea, now it cries

For the lives of you and I

Sinners meant to die

Come, child, take this gift

Receive your ransom free

Will you refuse this diamond flow?

And droplet stain of rubies?

The gift is here

Yea, come near

Touch the blood of God’s one son

Worth the lives of man

Taken from the Father’s hand




Ode to Moon

by Jasmine Ruigrok


Oh moon, where do you go all day?

Where is the place you hide away?

The wistful words you make me say,

As you so brightly shine.


So many times I talk to you,

When feeling down or feeling blue,

Seldom are my friends so true,

I wish that you were mine.


I wonder on what you have seen;

Where you are going, where you've been.

The fields you've washed with light so clean,

Filling the nighttime sky.


Are there others who gaze on thee?

Feeling lonely and small like me?

How many people do you see

As nighttime passes by?


I think of those who watch your face,

Ones invisible from my place,

Praying across the time and space

That to them, God is near.


Although I talk to you at night,

And smile at your cleansing light,

It's really God who's my delight

And Him I hold most dear.


For God is near when I'm alone,

The seed of faith in me He's sown.

And through your light, His works are known

As you sail up above.


Slowly, softly, I fall asleep;

You watch on from the sky so deep.

God and the moon my vigil keep,

How awesome is God's love.




In the Mid-Night

by R. S. Sharkey


Sing, O Nightingale

Of the love of those two in meeting

In the mid-night

On the endless sands

Where time stands still


Sing, O Harvant

Of the bond that grew

Like a flower

That blossoms at long last

To shower beauty and wonder upon the world


Their love was long

Their patience great

To lie both night and day in eternal wait

And proclaim their passion for the world to see

Though awoke it an aged hate


Sing, O Nightingale

Of the anger of her people

Upon the knowledge

Of the deeds she’d done

The man she’d won


Sing, O Harvant

Of the words that flew

Like the spears of the Ashtains old

Caught in air and hurled away

The danger that words can say


The words were fast

The tempers hot

Long into the night they fought

To divert her if they could

From the love she sought


Sing, O Nightingale

Of the girl who fled

In the mid-night

Over the endless sands

Where time stands still


Sing, O Harvant

Of the love that grew

Like a white birch tree

That stands tall and majestic

For years to come


She loved the one

She found the one

The search was won

For him who would be with her forever

Until the world was done


Sing, O Nightingale

Of the anger of a people

Who were proud and brave

Who loved her more than life

Her that caused eternal strife


Sing, O Harvant

Of the resistance of a people

Who conquered fear

Who rose to the fight

To save her that was a light


The wars were fought

The battles waged

And many of the older grew aged

While still the two in fury fought

Likened to an animal caged


Sing, O Nightingale

Of the troubles that followed

In the mid-night

On the endless sands

Where time stands still


Sing, O Harvant

Of the pain that grew

Like a weed

That destroys the a garden


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